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marvelousstevetony · 3 years

Note

Okay but those ways to say I love you prompts are all so cute 🥺 what about on a post-it note for Steve and tony if you’re feeling inspired? Thank you! 💖

Ahh, they are! Thank you for this prompt, friend, it is so sweet. I hope you enjoy this small thing 💖

~ ~ ~

“Please don’t leave me in this hellhole.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheeks to stop the laughter from bubbling out of him as he lets his eyes wander over to the bed where Tony lies, face smushed into his pillow.

His arm hangs limply over the edge of the bed, the blanket pulled up so it covers most of his naked back, apart from his shoulders. His skin has that sleep-warm glow to it, and judging by the soft, relaxed expression on his face, Tony is only about fifty percent awake as he lets out a small whine.

Now Steve is unable to keep the smile from gliding over his lips. “You’ll do great, Tony. And you know I’d much rather get back into bed,” Steve responds as he zips his bag and places it by the door.

“There’s nobody stopping you…”

“There kinda is, though,” Steve says, walking towards the bed, then sits down after nudging Tony’s leg to make space on the edge of the bed. “Besides, I’ll be back tonight. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

He threads his fingers through the mess of dark curls, softly untangling the knots that always come as a result of Tony nuzzling his head against Steve’s shoulder, chest or back, depending on whose turn it is to be the small spoon. It looks a little like a bird’s nest, Steve notes, all disheveled and mussed, but definitely the most adorable bird’s nest Steve has ever seen.

“’s not true,” Tony mumbles into the pillow. “I always miss you when you’re not here.”

Steve knows the hoarseness to Tony’s voice is probably from sleeping, but he can’t help but feel like it’s from emotion, too, and just the thought of Tony missing him even when they don’t see each other for mere hours makes something in his chest catch. Because Steve feels it, too; the constant want and need to be with Tony, as if Tony’s presence is the oxygen Steve breathes to keep him alive.

Steve clears his throat to prevent an emotional voice crack. “I won’t be away for long, okay? I love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, smiling even though Tony can’t see it with his eyes closed.

Tony hums, leaning into the palm Steve rests on his cheek. It’s only for a quick second though, because then he sighs heavily and feigns a pout. “Apparently not enough, since you’re leaving me to go to a stupid meeting. In D.C.”

Steve chuckles softly as he brushes his thumb over Tony’s cheekbone. “I’ll make it up to,” Steve promises and leans down to press a gentle kiss the corner of Tony’s lips. “You’re going to smash that presentation like you always do, and those investors are going to be every bit as smitten by you as I am.”

“I know,” Tony says, smirking even in his sleep-hazy state. “Still don’t wanna do it, though.”

“You’re gonna be great.” Steve gives his cheek another quick kiss before he stands and heads for the door, grabbing his bag on his way. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Mm, love you too,” Tony mumbles, already falling back into the warmth of the blankets and the comfortable unconsciousness.

***

Tony curses under his breath as he woken up by the ear-splitting sound of his alarm going off, and for a few seconds he wonders who he is going to have to sue for making such a vile, atrocious sound. It doesn’t take much longer for his sleep fogged brain to register that he isn’t woken up by the ticklish feeling of Steve’s breath behind his ear that he’s used to.

Steve usually comes to rouse him from his slumber with that low, fond voice whispering good morning in his ear, and a steaming mug of coffee. Today, he gets neither, and it feels like a bad start to what Tony can only imagine is going to be a bad day overall.

He stretches out on the bed, joints clicking, and gives a jaw-crackling yawn that’s followed by an equally dramatic sigh. He lets himself revel in the softness of the mattress and warmth of the blanket before draping one hand over his eyes and reaching for his phone with the other.

He frowns when his hand identifies a piece of paper on the screen of his phone, then rubs at his tired eyes with a fist to clear away the blurry vision. He has to narrow his eyes to make out the words on the post-it, and god he feels old doing so, but the feeling is quickly replaced by the affection that pools in his chest when he reads the note.

Good morning, my love. Hope you slept well.

- S ♡

Steve might not physically be in the Tower, but Tony knows that he left his heart right here.

His heart is apparently not the only thing Steve has left in New York, because throughout the routine of showering, brushing his teeth and getting dressed, Tony finds another few colorful notes with small, sweet messages and cute little drawings on them.

Wish I could join you, the one on the shower cabinet had said, and, well… Tony definitely agrees.

When Tony had showered, sadly all by himself, and finished up in the bathroom, he’d gone to choose what to wear for the meeting with the investors. What screams genius, billionaire, philanthropist and a damn good businessman? he had thought, staring into a closet full of suits.

That’s when he’d noticed another post-it, a red one that said: You look amazing in all of these. Those investors are so lucky. Love you. Steve had added a small smiley face with hearts as eyes. Tony rolled his eyes fondly before settling on a dark grey suit and the maroon-colored tie Steve had bought him.

Now, as he enters he kitchen, he feels a little better, a little less like this day is pure agony.

Because he is Tony Stark, a caffeine-addict, he heads straight for the coffeemaker, his most treasured item, and he can almost hear the birds chirping and angels singing the closer he gets. His focus quickly switches to the piece of paper that’s stuck to it though, and the fact that he reads the note before starting the machine is truly a testament to how much he loves Steve.

Please drink a glass of water and eat something too. Coffee is not a real breakfast!

Tony laughs out loud. He can imagine the look on Steve’s face and the sound of his voice so clearly in his mind as he reads it. Normally he’d argue this point, just because he can and because coffee deserves to be acknowledged as a necessity in his diet, but he doesn’t have it in himself to disregard Steve’s request, so he fills a glass with water and puts a bagel in the toaster while the coffee brews.

When it’s done, Tony goes to grab his favorite mug from the cupboard and is not surprised to find another post-it stuck on it.

From the day I realized I love you, it says and Steve has drawn a tiny ferris wheel on there, too.

Tony smiles reminiscently, thinking back to the day Steve had gotten him the mug. He had bought it in the gift shop in Coney Island when the team had gone there on a day off. Steve had told him how he and Bucky used to go there, he even told him about the time he had thrown up after Bucky made him ride the Cyclone. Neither of them had been able to stop blushing and smiling that day.

He snaps out of his absorption of memories when the toaster chimes, fills his mug and takes a seat a the breakfast bar, scrolling through his phone as he eats. He contemplates calling Steve but remembers that he and Sam are going to be in and out of meetings all day, so he settles on texting him a single red heart emoji.

For the next hour, as he gets ready for the investor meeting, Tony finds several other post-its. Some are messages saying stuff like I love you more than Nat loves knives, others are small drawings with cute texts like the one of them with grey hair and wrinkles that reads Growing old together. Tony may or may not have teared up at a few of them, and if he does, no one will know.

He imagines this is what it would’ve been like if he had ever been hunting for easter-eggs as a child. However, notes from Steve are a lot more rewarding than those cheap, poor quality chocolates.

With each one he finds, Tony’s chest tightens and his heart squeezes. Most people believe Tony is the one who’s always super over the top when is comes to romantic gestures, which, to be completely honest, is true. He does the grand, romantic gestures because he likes to spoil Steve whenever he gets the chance to. He likes watching Steve’s cheeks turn pink and that shy smile that crosses his face when Tony’s done something outrageously extravagant.

But… Steve has always been good at the small details. Things that seem insignificant but really aren’t, because they’re intimate and heartfelt and the most Steve things to do. Like leaving a million post-its around the penthouse to make up for being away.

As the collection of vibrant-colored paper notes grows, Tony finds a small box to gather the messages and drawings. The last one he finds is inside the elevator as he goes to meet Pepper before the meeting with the investors.

Good luck, baby. I love you.

***

Tony can’t recall when the last time a presentation went this well; everything went smoothly and the investors were immensely impressed.

He’s still tired as he stands in the elevator though, head tipped back against the wall, and he can’t wait to drop himself onto the couch and wait for Steve to come home.

He frowns when the elevator door opens and something seems… different, is the only way to describe it. The light are dimmed and instead, the room it lit up by candles. The Netflix logo is big and bright on the tv screen in front of the couch, which has been turned into a nest of blankets and pillows, and on the coffee table, there are two pizza boxes that give off a comforting smell that Tony can detect all the way across the room. In the middle of the whole affair is Steve, wearing his favorite pair of sweats and his old cable-knit, smiling widely at Tony.

Tears of happiness well up in Tony’s eyes as he walks towards the couch, shedding his shoes, jacket and shirt until he’s just in his undershirt, and drops himself directly onto Steve, burying his face in his neck. Steve holds him closer, chuckling a bit at Tony’s excited welcome home hug.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Tony echoes, the sound muffled into the fabric of Steve’s sweater.

“Did you have a good day? Good. I’m glad,” Steve says, smile growing impossibly wider when Tony hums and gives a small nod.

They lie there for a while, breathing in the scent of each other, feeling their muscles relax the longer their bodies are pressed this close, fitting together like a perfect puzzle. Tony’s head is the perfect size to fit into the crook of Steve’s neck, and Steve arms makes the best embrace around Tony’s smaller frame.

After a few minutes though, Tony catches a whiff of the Italian spices and lifts his head to look into Steve’s sparkling, blue eyes. “Pizza?” he asks hopefully, and Steve’s smile is answer enough.

Tony sits up to open the box and on it, there’s a post-it. It’s short and simple and it might be Tony’s favorite.

I love you, Tony Stark ♡

“You still think I don’t love you enough?”

Tony swallows hard around the lump that has suddenly appeared in his throat. “I never doubted that you do,” he says soberly. The words feel heavy as they leave his mouth, because it’s true; Steve has never given Tony any reason to question his love for him. Tony knows that Steve loves him.

He knows it by the way Steve runs his hand through his bird’s nest of a bedhead even though it’s greasy and it has gotten too long because he doesn’t want to go the the hair dresser. He knows it in the way he makes sure Tony doesn’t kill himself by only consuming coffee. He knows it by the way they can tell each other embarrassing stories about throwing up after riding a rollercoaster and buy ugly mugs from gift shops. He knows it in the way Steve writes hearts above the i’s and j’s, in the small curves of his handwriting and in the drawings and texts that tell Tony that he wants to grow old with him. He knows it by the way Steve looks at him with his blue eyes and long lashes and by the sincere smile that plays on his lips when he says his name.

They’re silent for a moment, but then Steve leans in, his lips ghosting over Tony’s as he whispers, “I love you, Tony.”

“I love you,” Tony says, closing the final gap between them, sealing their lips in a gentle, sweet, perfect kiss.

#am i the only one who feels so special when peach sends a prompt?#like... the queen of fluff is actually interacting with me?#oh well #I hope you enjoy this friend!!#this is a mess of typos I’m sorry #I’ll fix it later #my fic #ask box #omg-just-peachy #pls they love each other okay?#🥺🥺🥺#stevetony

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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hereisleo · 3 years

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NEON JUNCTION

w/ k.ys & j.wy

g/ cyberpunk!au, friendship, mild angst

w.c/ 3.8k

a.n/ @moonchildsaurora, here it is finally. from your birthday through christmas, new years and now our one year of friendshipvery, this is long overdue and thank you so much for you patience. ah, time flown hasn’t it. i will forever be grateful of your friendship and reaching out to me first, my lovely 🌹 anon. the incredible talent you have in creativity, you have me absolutely smitten over world building (multiples now) in our convos. you’re such a vibrant person, Sunray, and i adore you dearly from the bottom of my heart. seeing your messages first thing in the morning and at the end of the night is a good way to start and end the day. cheers to more years to come and who knows our dynamics might shift akin to woosang. i love you to pluto and back! here’s to friendship and to our first pieces of the year! (excuse the mistakes you find here pretend they don’t exists).

t.w/ expletives, character death (not the mains)

playlists/ cyberworld | k.ys skates & drones

An illegal virtual world. A damaged psyche.

How far is Yeosang willing to go to find the answers to his questions? Will he put his friendship on the line? Just as how his life is beginning to near its end. The DarkNet is not a place for weaklings and its the only place where he perhaps will get his answers.

A treacherous journey is afoot.

Yeosang knows the DarkNet better than he knows his world, the real world where his body is still on the chair in the attic of his friend’s humble abode. In the net, it’s only his mind and light particles forming his appearance. Dangerous but thrilling. He has come to love the rushing adrenaline, an outlet for him to rid of his pent up frustration. Is he properly armed? Is his supply stocked well? In the old world, this is all a video game played on television. In the current world, the world he lives in, the post-apocalyptic environment, this is his reality. The DarkNet, everything illegal happens here. Credit, fame, information, it doesn’t matter what or who you are in the real world but the DarkNet requires you to build a name for yourself. It has taken so much from him. He’s sore, tired, most definitely overworked although the last is self-imposed for many reasons. He can’t rest until he has answers and the credits needed.

A virus slams his wall of codes, dragging him into a fight, vision blurring slightly from the impact and red lights of warning. His monitor reads a huge output of energy from the wild AI that strikes him. The resounding sound of ‘FIGHT’ reverberates in his ears and his light particle fingers flew across the screen, mind racing and the heartbeat bar on the top right corner shines yellow in warning with how fast his heart is hammering in this ribcage. Not being able to code is akin to a death sentence in his line of work. Talons slam on to his screen, vicious orange lines of codes burning into his memory, a phoenix avatar. He hasn’t seen one in so long after- No, now is not the time, Yeosang. A little character waving a sign appears, the nervous bouncing and worried expression have him refocusing. ‘STAY ALIVE.’ He will and with it comes forth his avatar, roaring at the wild phoenix AI. A sophisticated dragon in black codes emerges, wrestling the phoenix on to the virtual dirt ground. If there’s one thing Yeosang has that is his own, it’ll be willpower. His friend calls it being stubborn but he’ll take stubborn too.

The virtual cheering falls deaf to his ears, the colosseum is a mere replica of past time, almost real, he could almost touch it. Almost. Alas, what’s long gone can never be rebuilt the same way. Yeosang simply doesn’t have the clearance or importance to enter the colosseum in the real world. No, those are for the governmental scums. The reason why he resorts to the DarkNet. Another swipe recalibrates his mind that he’s still in the middle of a deathmatch. He hates phoenix, they’re hard to kill. His neon green French nails dance under the black light of his screen, the pads of his fingers typing codes after codes. ‘TERMINATE’ and his dragon glows from within, orange light peeking between the scales, rumbling with brewing fire. The dragon pins the phoenix to the ground by its neck, the angry screeching of the bird makes Yeosang ground his teeth. Too close to home, the similarity of the screams of survival from that night comes crashing to the forefront of his mind. “End it, Mars!” He yells and his dragon obeys, jaws unhinging and relentless waterfall of flames burn the phoenix to its ashes. ‘VICTORY’ flashes on his screen. He doesn’t stick around for long, his vitals are yellow, caution. It’s time to log out, he taps the green box of ‘EXIT’ on the corner. The tugging sensation of his mind being dragged back into reality has him closing his eyes to diminish the dull ache. Yeosang doesn’t see the ashes trembling as his light apparition disappears from the illegal virtual world.

Disengaging from the DarkNet is proving to be difficult for Yeosang, his consciousness ebbs and flows, brainwaves tangled up in what’s real and what’s not. Wooyoung stands stiffly next to the Meta, feeling sick in his stomach, chest constricting with worry. He’s not averse to the virtual world but it doesn’t mean he likes it the same. He watches the Meta shut down, Yeosang’s vitals and brain activity updated on the glass screen mounted on the wall. The little character Yeosang crafted into the AI system jumps up and down with happy chirps, ‘STABLE.’ Hehetmon, it’s called, a moniker after the old TV show from the gone world. He and Yeosang would binge-watch together occasionally when he’s not swamped from juggling two jobs. Three. Watching over Yeosang is a job in itself. A job he’s willing to sacrifice everything else for.

A groan has Wooyoung almost throwing himself to his friend but he digs his heels and instead he kneels beside the blasted chair and hands reaching to disconnect all the wires attached to Yeosang’s body. He doesn’t know all the names of the cables but he does know the two most important, the EKG and the digital implant. Hehetmon on the screen highlights the different wires that need to be detached first. The cables slither itself back to its ports within the chair. He gingerly touches the base of Yeosang’s neck, the wire attached to the neural digital implant gives into his fingers without a fight. He thinks it’s muscle memory, he does this often enough Hehetmon keeps a record on how fast he could bring Yeosang out of the Meta. (Less than a minute when push comes to shove but usually under two.) They have come so far.

14-year-old Wooyoung was putting his younger brother to sleep, a worn-out storybook clutched between his hand as his brother rested against his chest, the strong thumping of his heart and his voice lulling the younger. He could have used the tablet, everything was in it but they only had one and he didn’t want to take it from his parents. They needed it more and they couldn’t afford another one, they couldn’t afford many things. His parents splurged on a book when they first had him, a treasure for their little treasure. He had read the compiled fairytales from cover to cover, the make-believe of the olden freedom, a taste he can only experience between the pages and in his mind when the house was still. A dream far from reality.

The door creaked open and Wooyoung stiffened. It was the newcomer. “How’s Kyungmin?” Timid. The new addition- Yeosang, his parents scolded him for being impolite by not referring to the other boy by his name. Exhausted, malnourished and was most definitely ill. His parents were apprehensive about Yeosang's sudden appearance but took him in regardless. Wooyoung was reluctant to have a new addition in the place. As if they need another mouth to feed. They were struggling to meet ends. He glanced at the barely one-year-old sleeping on his chest, the high temperature took a toll on the small body. “The fever broke.” He left it at that and Yeosang was understanding enough to let the matter rest. He put the book aside and cradled Kyungmin securely before standing up. Yeosang was shifting from foot to foot by the door, Wooyoung sighed exasperatedly, he was tired enough, “Just lie down somewhere already.” The blonde let out an awkward thanks and shuffled to the bottom bunk bed on the other side of the room. Wooyoung didn’t have the energy to tell him the bed Yeosang occupied was his. He left the room and laid Kyungmin back in his crib in his parents' room.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung didn’t expect Yeosang to flinch at the question nor did he expect to find the other boy to be curled up on the floor and reading the fairy tales book. Yeosang stood up, the book slipping from his hands and both of them winced when it hit the ground. He picked it up hastily and hung his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Wooyoung waved him off, “It’s fine.” Thick silence blanketed the room and neither moved to ease it. Yeosang opened his mouth before closing it again. He managed to string out a sentence after a while, “There were never any books back there.” Back there? Did he mean home? “Do your parents never read you to sleep?” Wooyoung almost apologised, Yeosang flinched at the mention of parents. The blonde shook his head and Wooyoung felt his stomach twist. “Mum used to sing me to sleep.” His chest tightened.

“How did you end up out here, Yeosang?” Wooyoung thought he was a bastard for not calling Yeosang by his name sooner. He never witnessed someone look so surprised by hearing their name. He walked up to his bed and sat down, patting the space next to him. Yeosang hesitated before giving in and sat next to him, posture tense and ready to bolt. “I ran away.”

Yeosang rouses from his ‘sleep’, the warm dark yellow light welcoming him into reality and so does the familiar voice next to him. Wooyoung is reading to him and he recognises the old story immediately. The Ugly Duckling. “It’s getting worse lately.” The pages flutter and Wooyoung keeps reading line after line in soft tandem. The book closes inaudibly. “You slept through dinner.” Yeosang steps into the Meta in the afternoon and for him to wake up at night, it’s getting worse indeed. He’s grateful that he hasn’t started hallucinating though he knows it wouldn’t be far if he keeps going at the pace he’s been putting his psyche through.

“Woo-”

“I know.”

“Wooyoung, I-”

“I know, Yeosang!”

“I know you can’t stop going into the Meta. I know I can’t stop you from fighting in the DarkNet. I know you need answers. But would you please take care of yourself for once!” Wooyoung runs an aggravated hand through his hair, he slumps forward in his seat, elbows digging to his knees and face hidden in his palms. Yeosang falls silent, letting his best friend, who is as close as a brother, gather his bearing. He stands up and his legs give out under him, muscles convulsing, sending him tumbling back to the Meta chair. He feels like puking yet his throat is also closing up, his head spinning and there is ringing in his ears, Wooyoung’s voice sounds so distant even though he is being held against the ravenette. He could make out flashing blue lights through his blurry vision, the health scanner kept handy beeps but he could barely hear it.

It could have been a minute or ten or an hour before Yeosang takes a hold of reality. His heart slams furiously within his ribcage and he’s once again reminded of the sped-up mortality rate of a DarkNet gladiator. The effects the Meta has on a person is damaging and he started to show the symptoms of what they called the bleeding effect. He currently renders more physical than mental and it won’t be long until the latter catches up. For how long he’s been exposed to the Meta, it’ll be sooner than he expects.

He blindly searches for Wooyoung’s hand, grasping it in a vice-like grip. He’s not the only one who’s scared. Yeosang doesn’t want to lose his sanity. He’s exhausted enough but there’s no rest for the wicked. He can’t rest, he can’t sleep with both eyes closed knowing there are answers for him out there and he needs to find it. He’s quite willing to put his psyche on the line even if it means him being thrown into the loony bin. Wooyoung loops his arms around Yeosang, tight enough for the blonde to feel how fast Wooyoung’s heart is racing. There’s a hole of emptiness in his stomach. “Can you stay with me tonight?” His voice is too raspy for either’s liking. There’s not a peep of sound coming from Wooyoung. Action speaks louder than words, especially when it’s Wooyoung. Wooyoung has a lot of words to use and yet he chooses not to, Yeosang knows better than to question it. He trusts the other with his life, his psyche and all that he is. There’s nothing that would err Yeosang to turn his back against Wooyoung. He owes Wooyoung way too much. All the credits in his account couldn’t repay what the other has done for him. It’s never enough and never will be. The seven years that they have known each other and the experiences they go through, Yeosang thinks he could never not trust Wooyoung. His life in reality and the Meta is in Wooyoung’s hands. Others would say their relationship isn’t healthy, that they are too dependent on one another and maybe that’s true. He knows he can’t function in the real world without the other.

“Promise me one thing, Yeosang. Don’t go into the Meta without me.”

Yeosang nuzzles his head into the space between Wooyoung’s shoulder and neck, his hands bunching the fabric of his friend’s shirt. The emptiness settles deeper. It’s not an answer because he knows he can’t keep such a promise. Wooyoung knows it too.

The DarkNet has shifted again. No two places look the same after each login. It changes constantly to avoid detection from the government’s pesky security. The lines of codes forming his apparition in the Net walk on the edge of a skyscraper. Mars languidly flew around the building ready to catch him if he slips. He won’t die necessarily, forcibly exited from the Net with some repercussions but not dead or just as good as dead. He has heard of those who were in comatose or worse. Mars huffs out a flaming breath, a rumbling growl thickening in its throat and Yeosang halts on his track. A stray orange feather twirls into his vision and his hands involuntarily shake, mind racing hundreds of miles an hour and he almost could feel the phantom cold sweat. He sees Mars’s wing slides between him and the feather, the thick lines of codes that formed the dragon burst into a pixelated mess and his ears ring from the explosion and the angry roar of his avatar. In the distance, Yeosang sights a phoenix emerging amongst the skyscrapers.

He sinks to his knees, hands covering his ears trying to block the screaming in his head or maybe he’s the one who is screaming. Mars knocks him into safety, away from the ledge and under its wing. No! No! No! His nails dig into his scalp.

The screeching of a phoenix avatar was the last warning he heard. The last sound to be ingrained to his memory with his mentor, with his brother, with his only friend in the blasted tech conglomerate. Yeosang could make out the silent words of the man across from him, trapped under locking codes and rubbles. Damages sustained in the Meta transferred over to the real world. The red warning signs ‘LOW HEALTH’ flashed before his eyes. His screen lit up with white words and Hehetmon skipped across the coded lines in loading.

- AVATAR TRANSFER IN PROGRESS -

URL: ORTECH://psh.MARS.980403

PREDECESSOR: [loading…]

Yeosang reached out futilely. The orange feathers fluttered around them, singing with heat as they glowed and sparked. Through his heavily cracked screen, he saw a small content yet the regretful smile of his friend. His eyes prickled with tears, dread, no, acceptance of the inevitable sank into him. Why is it always the best one to go first? One of the feathers zinged, a chain reaction of explosions rained upon them and Yeosang couldn’t hear his scream.

“Seonghwa!”

Take care of him, Mars.

- AVATAR TRANSFER COMPLETED -

“Kang Yeosang, get a grip of yourself!”

Yeosang stills at the call of his name. His battle screen is already up and the rectangular box of the communication line is open. Since when? Hehetmon spins in cheers when his eyes locked onto the pair of brown eyes he’s never tired of seeing. The beauty mark under the right eye puts a soothing balm into his mind. Wooyoung. His nails ease from its abuse against his scalp. Fuck, he must look so pathetic right now.

“You little bastard, I told you not to go into the Meta without me!” Guilt tinges in his chest. Yeosang opens his mouth, apology ready at the tip of his tongue. “Keep your ‘sorry’, we got a bird to cook.” Wooyoung never fails to reassure him but he knows it’s merely the calm before the storm. He’ll get his scolding later. Mummy never forgets.

He does what he does best even in trouble, “I’m still taller than you.” There’s still a quiver in his voice but the incredulous look on Wooyoung’s face makes him feel better. “Strip it off its feathers already, dammit! There’s milk on fire here!” Yeosang exhales and rises to his feet, his screen following his movement. The French manicure is chipped but the neon green is still vibrant in contrast to the black light emitting in front of him. He types in a series of battle commands, Mars flies higher and higher into the virtual light blue sky. Blades like armour materialise over the avatar’s claws and thick orange light peeks through between its scales. The phoenix is still far but his screen picks up the avatar’s image, the damages from their previous encounter aren’t fully repaired. What kind of a gladiator does that? Even Wooyoung can do better.

From Yeosang’s view, Mars appears to be a crow, so small up so high. Of course, he never sees the real bird, far extinct in the old world but there’s nothing that couldn’t be found on the Net. His avatar reaches right below the height barrier and takes a sharp nosedive, its weight falling at terminal velocity. Mars jaws unhinged and the fire stokes in the depths of its belly slowly rise to its throat. The screech emitting from the bird is as irritating as he remembers and his fingers tremble. He can’t tell if it’s fear or physical exertion but his head is in the game and mind is surprisingly clear despite the fireballs of feathers that are about to burst. Mars is partly hidden from his eyes with the myriad of singing explosives surrounding the dragon. Yeosang learns the hard way and he’s a learned man as Wooyoung puts it. He activates the defence codes just as the first fireball of many rains upon the black scales. He smirks from his perch, he didn’t spend many sleepless nights perfecting the codes for nothing, the tautness in his shoulders and back are good reminders too. The enraged squawk from the phoenix AI lifts his mood. The crosshair locks into place and the ‘TERMINATE’ sign appears. “Give it a good roast, Mars.” His finger taps the sign and an eruption of fire falls on the ugly big bird. His avatars claws sink into the phoenix broken pixels and glitches are visible around the broken codes. The storm of fire doesn’t relent, damages blooming across the sky and buildings. Surely the surge of energy catches the attention of fellow DarkNet users and government security. Mars doesn’t let up until each code is destroyed beyond repair, its claws tearing the wings apart by the joints. Yeosang slams his fists against the screen and yells when ‘VICTORY’ pops up in vibrant gold. Wooyoung’s cheers fall deaf to his ears over Mars roaring.

He slumps against the ledge, laughing like tomorrow won't come. He can’t believe it. He’s still alive and he supposes revenge is exacted. It feels empty somehow, he doesn’t know how to process the emotions in him at the moment. The event hasn’t hit him yet. “You’re so melodramatic, Yeosang,” Wooyoung chirps from the corner of his screen, “Give it a good roast, Mars!” His friend mimics his words earlier and Yeosang rolls his eyes but he can’t help the smile creeping on his face. Mars lets out a proud huff beside him, the dragon gives him an affectionate nudge and its ember eyes shine with much familiarity. His breath hitches but the avatar disappear with a sharp toothy grin. “Yeosang?” He makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He might have, “I’m alright, Woo. I’m going back now.” Even now you still look after me. Messages and clips of the fight start to spread in the forum. Data from the scrimmage is filed away, he’ll deal with them later. Hehetmon is skipping over the green box of ‘EXIT’ and he lets the mini AI jump on the button. He closes his eyes as the pull on the base of his neck erases his condensed light form from the DarkNet.

“Six months?!”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue as he inspects the nonexistent dirt under his fingernails, “Do you want one year instead? Okay. I’m completely fine with it.” Yeosang frantically refuses the added length, “Six months! Six months! Deal!” He never wants to wipe the shit-eating smirk off his friend's face so much. “Get scrubbing then.” Mummy never forgets indeed. Wooyoung not only scolds him but also gives his ear a good pinch and twist as soon as he is fit to walk around. Now he’s stuck on dishwashing duty under ‘consider it your retribution for breaking your promise.’ Yeosang sighs, he picks up a dirty dish and squirts the washing liquid on the plate. He’ll count himself lucky Wooyoung didn’t put him out there as hall staff.

“Did you process the data from last time?” His hand stops moving at the inquiry. Hell, he didn’t like what he saw on the files and Wooyoung most certainly wouldn’t either. God, he hates this so much. He doesn’t like it when the past comes biting back. “The phoenix URL traces back to ORBIT Tech.” A utensil clatters to the floor and Wooyoung curses like his seventeen-year-old self. “ORBIT Tech? Please tell me it’s a different conglomerate and not the piece of ‘the future is virtual science’ shit of your lunatic father’s!”

Yeosang nods, lips thinning, “Unfortunately, it is. That’s not the worst.” Wooyoung sucks in a breath, the come hither motion gestures him to go on. “I thought the phoenix was a wild AI or someone from the DarkNet was bribed,” he pauses, eyes searching for the dark browns of his friend’s, “It was under Seonghwa’s name.”

“Seonghwa’s dead! He couldn’t possibly-” Wooyoung halts his rant when he notices the unflinching gaze of his seven years companion. It clicks in his mind the inevitable of many other inevitables are descending rapidly on them. At some point, there will be a time where he couldn’t protect Yeosang. There will be a time where his friend has to return from where he comes from. He would be lying if he didn’t lose sleep thinking of this day. The twinkling skyscraper at the centre of the city mocks him. Yeosang doesn’t belong in the nest infested with lies. He’ll be damned, he much rather have Yeosang fights in the DarkNet instead. He’ll take the repercussions. But the chills running down his spine, the pressure in his chest and the unnerving hollowness in his stomach douse him in the harsh reality they live in. The finality of it grips his marrows.

“It’s time for me to stop running.”

39 notes · View notes

fairytsuk1 · 4 years

Text

falling back to peace (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, angst

warnings: suicide, blood

words: 2.2k

summary: i miss our warm bed and the cuddles in the morning.

prompt: apocalypse

Blood splashed noisily on the wall. The drips and the sound of the initial slap were absolutely disgusting; you'd grown used to it. Todoroki yanked the dagger out swiftly and shoved it into its casing before turning to you.

"How's your ankle? Can you keep going, or do you need to rest?" His eyes flitted down to the foot hovering just above the ground and frowned.

"It's tender. But I can keep going!"

Your boyfriend crouched down and took hold of the tip of your shoe. He flexed your foot back towards your shin and shushed you when you gasped. The back rooms of the mall you'd been wandering were mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. Obviously, you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves if you could avoid it.

"It's warm. You're working too hard. I told you to tell me if it got worse."

His tone is sharp and has a slight edge to the natural baritone. He's stressed, you're both hungry and haven't found a single crumb. He didn't want to return back to your newly found group empty-handed. They were already wary of you two. Plus, the streets were not safe to be walking out and about like before.

He sighed and looked up at you, heterochromatic eyes boring into yours to guess how he was feeling. You looked at the cracks on the ceiling and counted how many stains littered the beige roof.

"Please look at me," Todoroki felt like he'd go insane if he didn't see your eyes. They were so warm and carried so much humanity, he thought he might seriously lose it if he didn't look at something alive within the next minute, "please."

Guiltily, you look down at your lover. There's a glassy film that clouds the orbs, and it just barely shines under the light. He offers a small smile before kissing your bruised bone, mindful of the dirt and grime before standing up. You're so little. When you blink, fat tears roll down your cheeks. Quickly, he tugs you into his shirt; he smells so clean.

Todoroki had made a decision at the very beginning of this nightmare that no matter what, he'd smell the same. It was hard to carry so many bottles of the comforting scent of amber cologne, but he did it for you. You liked the smell of autumn, he figured he would try to be a pillar for you.

"You smell good."

"I know. Please don't cry anymore."

You sniffled once, then two times more before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes. He cringed and pulled a tissue out of his bag before patting the sensitive skin. A smile tugged your lips, and he swore his heart jumped.

"You baby me, you know that? The girls at the camp gave me a hard time for it."

Snickering, he pecks your nose and turns around, "you are my baby. They must be really jealous if that's what they want to talk about."

You covered your laugh with your hand and grabbed his own with your free one. You let out a loud final giggle before quieting down and beginning to walk side by side.

He slowed his pace down for your sake, and you were immensely grateful. Your ankle really did hurt quite a bit. You two were connected though, the same thoughts circling each other like a schoolyard game. The group you two had found was okay, not too small and not too big, but it was harsh. They expected a lot from you two, and you felt sorry watching your Shoto do so much labor while you washed clothes.

The fact that they wanted you two to prove yourselves was irritating too. Naturally, both of you were hardened and healthy survivors. You didn't need to prove yourselves to anyone! That wasn't how things were dealt with, though; the constant scrutinization was almost as bad as the lack of rations you received.

Things just weren't fair nowadays, watching all your hard-earned canned goods get used for a stew that you only got a cup of. The anger inside you bubbled once again. You were stuck doing the womanly activities but then expected to pick up the slack and then be told to deal with the unjustness of it all?

"It's bullshit."

"Huh?"

"The group's shit. I hate it." You spoke with the voice of someone who had felt indignation to the highest degree with a splash of sadness. You were so tired.

Todoroki sighed and nodded. He felt the same. He was keeping you safe, but that didn't mean it was easy to wake up at five in the morning. He barely saw you as well. Some days, you were stuck inside till the sun went down. Other times, the strain they put on you was too much, and he begged them to ease up. This group had a lot of expectations.

He missed Midoriya. He just wanted to sleep.

Your ankle...that was another story. He'd been stealing medicine for you. He'd used to be a good person, to know right from wrong and that stealing was bad. When it came to his girlfriend, he'd kill for her. He knew this, and she knew this. So when he saw the painkillers sitting so openly on the shelves, he took them. He was relieved to see how much better you felt, but he knew that they'd be onto him soon. Naturally, he'd deal with that situation when you two got to it. For now, he needed a map of the mall so he could figure out how to get the fuck out of here--

"Is this a coffee shop!?" Todoroki hadn't even realized he'd spaced out till he saw you peeking your head through a door.

"What? Hey, be careful!" he grunted and grabbed your waist to support you before opening the door fully.

"Look, it is! There's coffee machines and tons of cups!"

The simple things nowadays were the best. Forgoing the pleadings of rest from your ankle, you ambled forward and picked up a bag of beans.

"They even have the ones I used to use for coffee nearly every day! You were more of a tea guy, maybe they have a few spare packets…" trailing off, you began to open cabinets like second nature to find food, "I'll try and look for stuff that might have lasted!"

"If they have black tea, grab me some, please."

Todoroki let his hand rest on the small of your back before walking past the counter. It seems these people had used their common sense and closed the security gates, effectively locking out the dead. He frowned when the smell of rotting bodies permeated through the air when he passed by the bathroom.

"Bathroom's out of order, so if you want to go…"

"Hah, you sure that's all you wanted to do in a bathroom?"

He smirked and winked before turning to the counter of creams and sugars. Nothing useful.

You, on the other hand, swear that opening the cabinet of boxed mixes might have been like discovering America. Without the genocide, of course. There were tons of mixes for sweets and different types of bread. Pushing them aside, cold metal shocked you as if it was burning hot. You reached in and pulled out the can, a grin taking over your face and your stomach grumbling the loudest it's ever had.

"Shoto, have you ever had cherry pie?"

"...Like once or twice, I think. Why?"

"Well, it'll be my job to make it for you then!" you turned and held the can out, the bright red packaging matching his dual-toned hair, "cherry pie filling!"

For the first time in a minute, his smile matched yours as he quickly rounded the corner. He took the can, and for a second, you saw the boyish grin he used to sport in high school. So genuine, there weren't many happy moments in this life anymore. That's why you treasured every time one showed up. You drank in this moment and seared it into your brain. You didn't name it then. Only later.

You decided that moment was called, "The last time you were happy."

Getting out of the mall was easy when you had a seasoned fighter by your side. You swear that your boyfriend could've been an actual samurai with the way he swung zombies out of the way with ease. You had taken brief looks at him as you did your best to run alongside him, the cherry tin bouncing around in your bag.

His hair bounced with every step, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Why did you want to cry so bad? He looked at you and gave you a confused look.

"Why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

Perhaps it was the preparation for what would come when you arrived back at the safe zone. There was no warm welcome or claps on the back. It was silent. Though their eyes did the talking for them. The tension in the air was overpowering.

"You're back," Ryuji stalked forward and crossed his arms, "I'll let you tell us first. If you're honest, I might be lenient on you."

Shoto stared and narrowed his eyes before using his forearm to prevent you from standing next to him. He was in protection mode. He didn't break the soul-sucking stare with the leader, but his trembling hand let you understand all you needed to know. This was bad.

It happened in a flash. Ryuji's arm swung up, and guns were aimed from every direction. His yelling was garbled, and you knew Shoto was panicked from the way he kept spinning and spinning. There was no way to escape. The pain in your ankle throbbed. You could practically hear the pulsing in your skull.

"We can compromise this, Ryuji! We got food too! Just stop it with the guns!" You broke through the disassociation and cried out towards the enemy. Didn’t he have any sympathy?

The gunshot that dug into the ground just next to your feet made you scream and back up into Todoroki's hold. If they kick you out, what about your picture of your class? That's yours in your room. You brought it everywhere. The promise ring that you didn't want to get dirty too. The pressed leaves in your old journal and--!

"Get the fuck out!"

You two had slowly begun to back up since the very beginning of the confrontation. You hadn't even realized how much you’d retreated until your back hit the entrance door, causing you to stumble. Your anxiety was through the roof as the guns came closer, you swore you could see down the barrel.

The doors had opened, and you turned to see...so many. It was like all the zombies in the world had been waiting for a feast. There had to be at least one hundred of them. Shoto squeezed your shoulder, and you flinched when your bag was thrown beside you. They weren't really human, were they? These people were monsters.

This was cruel and mean. There was no way you'd be able to survive this. Shoto beat down on the doors and screamed for mercy, but you could only focus on one thing. The photo of your classmates smiling and cherry pie. The zombies grew closer. You felt so bare and empty. You knew you didn’t have the strength to keep going. Not like this.

You also knew that Shoto had aimed a gun at your head whilst you sunk to the ground. He couldn't, wouldn't, watch you turn. Never in a million years did he want to see those dead eyes. For the first time in a while, the tears started to flow. He'd cried so many times, but he always kept it to himself.

"I love you, Shoto,"

"...I love you too."

Acceptance is the first step. Then you don't feel anything after that. Shoto doesn't feel anything once the shot rings out. The tears drip onto the ground but his head is blank. He supposes he should feel something. Anything. He's done this a few times and always felt awful before. Though he can't find the energy. Motivation. He'd worked so hard in his life, he just wanted to rest. How badly he wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

Besides, a part of him had died with you at that moment. He supposes that at least he didn't have to see your eyes. He turns the gun on himself.

Acceptance is the first step. Then, he doesn't feel anything after that. He's had a long life even if it didn't seem that way to those who thought of age as linear. But he'd lived for a long while. Now, he'd have a long rest.

When Ryuji came outside later that night, the two bloodstains remained, but the bodies were gone. Burning somewhere, he assumed. The photo stuck out at him. He crouched down and picked it up. You two looked so in love.

"Too bad. Could've been really helpful."

The picture falls into the dirt, overtaken by nature. Utterly forgotten.

"Shoto... I'm so glad we can rest."

"Me too."

#todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #bnha shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki angst #shoto todoroki angst #bnha #bnha angst #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia angst

108 notes · View notes

lutbys · 3 years

Text

Christmas Party

Day 1 of Christmas at Hogwarts:

1st – You and Draco are sworn enemies. Always have, always will. But an evening spent decorating the Slytherin common room has got you both rethinking your choices.

a/n: MY DUMB ASS! I woke up this morning to no notifications for day one and i was lowkey sad bc I thought no one like it but when I checked again, I POSTED IT PRIVATELY UGHHGUGG *biggest facepalm of the century. No, at this point I've smashed my head against the wall* So I guess its on the 2nd of December then hHHHH I’m truly sorry for my dumbmity.

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin reader

“You want me to do this all by myself!” you gawked at the boxes upon boxes of Christmas decorations Pansy dug up for tonight. “And how do you expect this to look good?”

“That’s where you come in silly! I’ve seen your decorating skills back home and its impressive. That’s why you’re our party decorator” Pansy replied, gleaming at the shiny tinsel and the mountain of fairy lights. Who knew there was enough space in this dungeon to store such cheerful items?

“But I didn’t agree to this stupid party in the first place!”

“Typical of y/n to back out at the last minute. What next? You didn’t plan on getting married so why host a wedding?” you hear Draco scoff as he descended down the stairs that lead to the dorms, his arms tucked into each other and his face disgruntled just like how he would every time he caught sight of you.

“Shut it Malfoy. I don’t see you being of much help either.” To that he only scoffed and turned his back to join in on a conversation with Blaise.

It wasn’t rocket science for anybody to realize you and Draco were never on the same page. Its been like this since the first year, from the awful hair pulling to sabotaging each other’s cauldrons during potions class. You never knew why but when you first caught sight of the boy, you’d knew you’d hate him.

“Now that the venue is all settled, Nott, Zabini and I are going to Hogsmeade for the snacks. Draco you coming?” Pansy ticked off errands from her endless to do list, her eyes racking through the list multiple times like the perfectionist she is.

“Waste my time walking around? No thank you.”

“Then its settled, Draco you can help y/n doll this place up. The faster, the better.” Before he could utter an excuse, the busy girl had pushed the two other boys away and exited the common room.

You stood in awe at the situation your best friend put you in. The two of you stood dumbfoundedly among the boxes as you raked your brain on how you were going to turn this musty dungeon into a welcoming hall.

“I suggest we throw all this shit out and call it a day.” Draco grunted, kicking a box of ornaments till it toppled and you watched as three glittery green globes fall and break into little pieces. “Unlike you, I actually have important things to do.”

“Like what? Being a git? Who do you think is going to clean that up Draco?” You bit back, pointing to the scatter of broken glass that once used to be delicate trinkets.

“you know what? I’ve had enough of you for today. I’m going to decorate this part of the room” You gestured your hands around the fireplace “And you can decorate all the way over there”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Draco agreed and moved over to the tables along with his pick of decorative items.

You’ve been staring at the fireplace for longer than you wished but your mind is blank. Completely blank. And you dreaded to turn and see how much Draco has done because all you’ve been hearing for the past half hour are the crinkles of the tinsel and his frustrated moans whenever the wrapping paper didn’t fold the way he wanted it to.

Your eyes shifted from box to box as you tried to come up with something creative. Sure, your living room back at home would look extravagant to guests but that was all mom’s doing, all you had to do was help put them up.

It was the absence of the gold chain that once perched itself on top of the dodgy Santa stuffy that caught your attention.

I swear I saw it a moment ago

You were also wondering why the gold star for the tree was missing too! After rummaging through the countless number of boxes, there was only one other person you could think of to have stolen it.

“Oi Malfoy! Next time you take something from my side, ask!” You rolled your eyes at his obliviousness.

“Why would I want things from your side? Mine looks better to begin with.” “Then where did the star for the Christmas tree go?” your confusion grew as he mirrored your expression. What is happening?

Just then, you caught sight of a little dark grey blob running across the room, its little feet making little to no noise against the carpeted floors. You and Draco turned to each other with wide eyes, Care of Magical Creatures taught you well enough to identify it as a Niffler, the little rodent who steals.

“What the hell are we going to do?” you whisper-shouted, eyeing the single seated sofa you last saw it run by.

“Its your problem y/l/n. I’m not touching that thing.”

“Don’t be daft Malfoy, if we don’t catch it, your stupid watch will be next!” Draco scoffed at your exaggeration, but his reaction quickly dimmed as he fingered his wrist at where his fathers watch used to be.

“My watch! You jinxed it you little minx.”

“See! If we don’t catch it now who knows what will be nex- Hey!” you watched the sly critter reach out for the string of tinsel on the floor, barely grabbing hold before going back into hiding.

Your feet worked faster than your brain as you lurched towards the sofa, trying to grab hold of its little tail but to no avail, it was faster. “Draco look out! He’s coming your way!”

Before it could dodge the white-haired boy, Draco had caught it swiftly. The poor creature tried to wriggle himself to escape, but Draco’s grip was stronger. “Hagrid’s right. It does feel funny.” His face grimaced at the sight of the thing, its flat beak and teeny arms was not sitting right for him.

“From what I remember, all you have to do is hold it by its hind legs and shake it.” You watched him follow your instructions and everything instantly fell out of its pocket. From coins to a small piece of confetti, it rained gold. You laughed in bewilderment at the sight in front of you. Sure, you’ve learned anything and everything about these magical creatures but having the opportunity to see one in real life was quite a scene to remember. It seemed Draco too was amused with the sight.

“What a cheeky little rat! Look at all he’s stolen.” Draco said after trapping the Niffler in a nearby crate. “I don’t think this is the only house he visited.” He held out a gold Gryffindor badge that once belonged to a prefect.

“That was pretty impressive. Never seen one in my life!” your hand raked through the lost knick-knacks like it was a treasure chest. “I’m going to put this back, Pansy should be back anytime now and I know she’d freak if she came back to this mess.”

Draco too took the liberty of scooping from the pile and just then, your hands touched. You couldn’t tell if it was the adrenaline of having seen a Niffler or never have had contact with Draco, but it felt different. Almost, nice.

It was when you looked up when you realized how close you both were to each other, close enough that your breaths mingled, close enough that if your lips were to touch-

“We’re back and we’re ready for the biggest party yet!” Pansy excitement boomed from the picture frame they entered through; her hands filled with bags from Honeydukes.

Like acid being poured over, you both pulled away instantaneously. “What the hell happened in here!” The once happy girl’s smile went agape when she saw the mess beyond her. The chairs were toppled, the lights that were supposed to be on the walls were scattered on the floor, and a suspicious looking crate was moving on its own.

“We had a bit of a Niffler situation” you scratched the back of your neck guiltily, you had failed the one task you were given, and miserably at that. “But it’s okay! I promise you I will fix all of it.” Your words seemed to encourage her, knowing her trust on you was strong.

“You have an hour and an HOUR only.”

“The most memorable party of the year!”

“This beats Gryffindor’s for sure”

You rolled your eyes at the cocky compliments thrown around, knowing well enough it all came from your group of friends. You didn’t know how, but you miraculously made this place lively with the time given. Having your friends entertain you whilst at it added bonus points. Now, you awed at how the lights made the room glow and the green, black and white banners hung proudly by the fireplace.

But one thing kept running through your mind as the party went on in full swing.

Draco.

You couldn’t get this afternoons incident out of your head. You never noticed how his eyes were so mesmerizing and his scent so intoxicating that you would have all your clothes doused to smell like it.

And he couldn’t get you out of his head too.

Draco stood lonely near the staircases, having no mood to mingle as he was knackered from the days events. But it was also an excuse to think over things when it came to you. He rewinded the scene over and over again, wondering what would happen it the moment never stopped, if Pansy wouldn’t have opened her loud mouth and disturbed them.

You both parted -quickly at that- as soon as the group came back, not daring to look into each others eyes for the rest of the evening.

But here you were, searching through the crowds for the one pair of eyes that had made your heart stop.

And you found them.

Staring straight back.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco x reader #prompt #hogwarts #christmas #draco x you #draco x oc #draco smut #draco

32 notes · View notes

johobi · 5 years

Text

When You Least Expect It | 12

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: angst, angsty-angst, dramaTIC ANGST, anxiety, depression, fear of going mad. i swear it’s not all that bad though!!!!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: thanks, as ever, for all your encouragement, love and patience. i truly treasure you.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

"Need to get my⁠—mmm⁠—keys."

Taehyung's argument was solid, but your lip-lock took precedence. "Nuh-uh," you murmured to his saliva-slick lips, eager to taste from them again. "Do it blind."

Your lover fished futilely for his keys, eyes closed for kissing. His body angled away when you only wanted it flush. Selfishly you clung to him, arms fast around his neck, compelling him closer. Oh, but you needed more. Needed his touch. It was painfully absent. Taehyung’s long-fingered hands trawled the depths of his pockets when they should have been defiling you.

He snorted through the meagre space between your faces. "I can't find⁠—mmgh⁠—find them."

"Here," you offered in devilish whisper, plunging a hand into the pocket of his jeans. Shamelessly grasping a little too close to his left-leaning dick.

"Ah⁠—"

Your fingertips grazed metal. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It will be."

It was your turn to scoff. Right into his hot, nasty mouth.

Despite Taehyung's ineptitude at locating his own keys, it was spellcraft how easily he unlocked the door, with his back to it and his tongue thrust far past your lips. As the lock gave way, you threw yourself into his freshly-freed arms, urging he embrace your touch-starved body. But Taehyung was already around you, on you, fondling the breadth of your thinly-clothed ass. He broke away to whine: “God, you drive me crazy.”

“You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

You stumbled into his apartment as a mass of roving hands. "You’re gonna get it again, noona," Taehyung hummed around your earlobe. Tugged it between his teeth. Whispered obscenities while his hard cock pressed close. “You feel that, babe? You want it?”

Breath tumbled out. “Y-Ye⁠s—”

"It certainly sounds like she does," a wicked voice sang. It was high-pitched and heavy on the dialect and its source unmistakeable. You wished you were mistaken. "Whatever it is. I'm gonna hazard a guess that it's⁠—"

The two of you repelled like magnets.

"Oh, fuck. Jimin, why are you still here?" Taehyung made no attempt to smother his exasperation. His erection, on the other hand, he smothered actively, obscuring it with the hem of his shirt..

"Good night without me?" the redhead side-stepped. Consistent with his character, the conversation became depraved, and all about him. You found yourself on the receiving end of an unwelcome eyebrow waggle. "I was only one phone call away."

Taehyung's hand flew to his face. Dragged down his features. "I told you I didn't know when I'd be back. If at all. Couldn't you have gone home, dude? What did you even do all night?"

As Jimin dithered and whined, you surveyed the damage the bachelor had inflicted upon Taehyung's usually immaculate apartment. Takeout trays, beer bottles and indiscernible spills surrounded the little imp. Insult to injury was his occupation of your beloved red slanket. It coupled his hair so garishly he resembled something of an angry pimple. You glared at Jimin from behind his 5'11" handler.

"I thought you were coming back!" Jimin finally exasperated. His wrists emerged from the slanket-holes when he gestured to his nest of trash. "I had to eat twice the amount of food. And I got drunk alone. You know how sad that is?"

"Got a glimpse of your future, did you, Jimin?" The snicker that shot from you almost took the contents of your nostrils with it. To say you were a little sniffly this morning was to minimise it. It took all your nasal strength to prevent a flood. Probably all that rain yesterday.

No, don't think about yesterday.

Luckily, your dignity remained intact for discard another day. Jimin's however, had long been abandoned. Tact, too. "So—" He watched, beady-eyed, as you busied yourself in the undoing of his mess. When you reached for a pizza box: "You guys having an affair? Or is this some kinda friends-with-benefits deal?" The slanket rode up his offensively nude thighs as he leaned toward your stooping form. "Any chance of making this a three-person thing? Or four, if that Jungkook guy is still in the picture."

It was like an icicle through your poor, hollowed heart. You froze, bent at the hinges, pizza grease becoming palm sweat. "W-What?"

“Actually, was he even real? I never saw him.”

Was he even real?

Taehyung was quick. Was there in a second, striding to your side, affixing a hand to your lower back. His fingertips, too, were quick. Quick to find that sliver of exposed skin where your jeans and shirt met. To give you the warmth of reassurance that came only with his touch. "Jesus, Jimin. I know this is your shtick, but no-one's in the mood for your bullshit today. Just go home dude, I'll text you later."

An expression you'd never encountered warped Jimin's delicate features. Hurt. "What the fuck?" he grumbled, complying despite his injured feelings. Coming to a stand, he stuffed himself into his night-before skinny jeans, plump lips pursed. "What got into you? She peg you or something?" Jimin’s hmphs continued, punctuating his impromptu Get Ready With Me throughout. Without the care it warranted, he slung off the slanket and began turning out the couch.

“Very funny. What are you looking for? I’ll help.” Taehyung offered, placidity masking his vexation incredibly well. Antagonising Jimin would only prolong his being there, after all, and the scenario was already unbearably awkward. Especially now, when he was flaunting a good inch of his ass-crack in the hunt for some misplaced possession.

"My wallet. Y’know, the pot leaf one. Where did I put the damn thing?"

In that gaping crevice, maybe? It wasn’t aloud.

"Okay, look⁠—" Taehyung, too, looked to have had his fill of his friend's butt-cleft. "I'll bring your wallet 'round your place later. You got your phone and keys, yeah?" The outline in the redhead's jeans confirmed it. "Go home, sleep off the rest of the booze, we'll talk this evening."

Despite his grievances, Jimin suddenly brightened. He never was one to hold a grudge. He was a Pisces, after all. "You're gonna come over? Cool! I'll get more beer in." The fact he'd consumed a dozen only two hours prior didn’t appear to deter him. "You coming, ____? We gonna have another game of Never Have I Ever?"

The sincere sparkle of his eyes threw you a little. "Uh, I don't think so. Not today. Sorry, Jimin. Next time, okay? I've got some things to sort out later. Plus, I think I’m getting sick." A sniffle for illustration.

"That's cool." He hummed, shrugged on his signature varsity jacket. The world would burn before he conceded college was over. "See you later, Tae. Happy smashing," was his parting comment as he sashayed out the door, mildly uncoordinated. Taehyung was charitable enough to relieve his friend of the quandry of closing it.

And when it was closed, your lover turned back. Had a pensive purse to his lips. "Uh, sorry about that. You okay?"

"Don’t apologise, I’m the one that disrupted your plans in the first place, Tae. But yeah, I’m good."

Taehyung couldn’t see the extent of that untruth. Not when you averted your eyes so swiftly. Pinned them to your busy hands as you continued to collect up Jimin's litter. Why had it been so easy for him to speak his name? Like it was nothing but breath? Just two syllables, plucked from an alphabet of indifference?

When it was sand and salt on open sores?

When it was woe so heavy it rasped the soul?

"Alright." It wasn't, but what mattered was that Taehyung knew it. Knew it, and didn't pursue it. Instead, he fluffed a trashbag for you in which to deposit your greasy collection. "He's always like this. A mangy raccoon." The comparison hit humorously enough to curtail your anguish. Momentarily, at least. A genuine laugh came from you. At that, Taehyung looked up. Caught your smile. "He's always like this. Always leaves me to clean up. His metaphorical and literal messes."

Trash collected, you straightened. Inelegantly, and with a groan. You'd have to scrape together the pennies for some sweet chiropractic adjustment. "Yeah? That doesn't surprise me," you smirk, prodding at the knots in the small of your back. "All I know is he's a gross, unashamed pervert that could be a good guy if he grew up a little. You haven't really told me too much about him. I guess you'll—" the reality of your and Taehyung's changed relationship hit you, then. It had transfigured into something far more intense. Far more beautiful. Potentially volatile. "—you'll have to tell me more. About him. Your other friends I don't see much. And about you, stuff I didn't get to know until we—well. You know."

Taehyung's head came to a tilt. His downy locks strayed into his eyes, softening them into a squint. "It's weird, isn't it? Being like this. Good weird—" he added with haste. Had he been suddenly struck by the revelation, too? Your two combined brain cells continued to surf one wavelength. It was uncanny. "You're standing there, I'm standing here. We look the same. But it's all different. I look at you different." A contemplative pause. The trash-bag knocked noisily at his knees as he rocked. "And all I know is I want to learn about you. Again. Inside and out."

"Yeah. I'd like that very much. I'm hardly a treasure trove of alluring secrets, but I'm sure I have a wild story or two from my college years. Ugh—" The ache that'd been no more than a dull tapping at your skull suddenly came to the fore. Your head throbbed like a blunt force concussion.

"You okay?" The trashbag left Taehyung's hands and crumpled to the floor. You felt them on you shortly after, palpating your oddly sensitive forearms. "What's up?"

"Headache. Think I was bent over for too long, or something." But then came a torrent of sneezing. And it was also then that Taehyung's proximity was suddenly, intolerably stifling. "Ugh. Maybe not. I’m definitely getting sick. Sick-sick."

A satiny palm left your shoulder and found your forehead. Your vantage saw only Taehyung's mouth. It opened into an O. "Oh, shit. Yeah, you're burning up, noona. We should get you into bed."

"No, no. That won't be necessary." You waved away his clammied hand and instead peeled off your - his - jacket. The last thing you wanted, on a day as emotionally strenuous as this one, was to find yourself physically compromised, too. "I'll be okay. I just need to cool down a bit. It's probably just a cold, and I can soldier through those. Uh—I'm a little hungry, though?"

"Aha! Want some French toast or something?" Taehyung leapt at the opportunity to tend to you. Like Yoongi, you shied away from showing weakness and instead showed a reluctance to lean on others. It must’ve been frustrating for Taehyung, an unashamed empath who wanted nothing more than to accompany and comfort you during your times of adversity. But he understood that it could not be the case with you. That less was more. That the key to helping you was when you asked for it. Yes, even when it was something so small as the common cold.

And when it wasn’t just the sniffles, but world-ending woe, Taehyung embraced your diversions from the difficult topics. Didn’t push it. Best friends never pushed. Yes, he was still your best friend. Something more, now, too, but forever your gentlest, most attuned of friends. "Don’t you like French toast? I could make something else?" He prompted, peering into your faraway face with those precious eyes of his.

"You can make French toast?"

"Of course I can. I can make you anything, within reason. I've been practicing. Takeout's giving me a belly." In illustration, Taehyung molded his hands to his mildly rounded flesh. Strained it out further, like an expecting mother.

"I like your little belly." Your hands fell to his, pressing his stomach back to flat.

"Yeah?" An errant quirk of his eyebrow. "It likes you, too."

You smiled so, so wide. And then you became certain:

Last night had been the right decision. One made in a swell of volatile emotion, yes. But this day - this moment - in which it was still possible to smile, proved that. Taehyung conjured it to your face with so little effort. It took so little effort to be with him. To just be.

And that was indeed a feat.

Because inside your mind, there was no reprieve. Barbed words and self-abuse clattered about your brain, painting you unworthy of Jungkook. Worse yet; deserving of his treatment.

Every second since your waking hour you’d been assailed by volleys of it. But your self-loathing didn’t end its assault there. In your darkest seconds, it even dared to suggest that you proclaimed your love for Taehyung too hastily.

That you instead yearned for that other man.

By some mercy, you were already adept in handling intrusive thoughts. Because that was all they were: Intrusive. Unwelcome and unwanted. There could be no truth to the doubt or longing.

Not when your new horizon stood before you, a sunshine smile dawning across his cheeks. Taehyung. The once boy, now man, you'd forever coveted.

He was yours. Your desperate words a night ago sealed it.

Puzzlement mingled adorably with Taehyung's bright features. "Babe?"

Yeah. It was the right choice.

"Sorry, Tae." In spite of your climbing fever, you intertwined your idling fingers. Looked down at the union with a contented smile. "Thanks for letting me stay here for a bit. I didn't want to go back to my apartment yet." The reason why remained unspoken. "I know I can't avoid it forever, but for a little while at least, I just wanna not think."

Soft, familiar lips were on your forehead. Spoke against the skin. "You stay here as long as you need. My apartment and I are at your disposal." It was Taehyung's turn to loose himself from your febrile embrace. Your perspiration lacquered his fingers. "We're getting you some painkillers for that fever, at the very least. You don't have to stay in bed, but I want you on the sofa so I can keep an eye on you while I do some marking."

"Okay, dad."

Taehyung’s tongue danced over the tips of his teeth. "That's daddy to you, noona. Get those damp clothes off and get some of my pyjamas on, there's a set on the bed."

----

Your sentencing to the sofa had initially been met with resistance. Especially when Taehyung hovered, ever-watching, an eye on his papers and the other on your recalcitrant form. Your every attempt at productivity - even a surreptitious attempt to fold his laundry - had been met with soft but stern eyes and an escort back to your cologne-saturated prison. Jimin's stank had ingratiated itself with the fibres of Taehyung's cushions. No amount of deodorizer could reduce its cling. It did nothing but intensify the thudding behind your eyes.

And at first, you attributed your worsening nausea to that silly little redhead. But the lightheadedness followed swiftly after, and then the chills, and then that horrid, off feeling encroached, like your soul lagged behind every of your body's movements.

In the end, you begged for the bed. Taehyung's memory foam mattress and sweet-smelling pillows. Only, the sweet made you sick, and the memory foam only exacerbated all your indistinct aches. By early afternoon, despite his dutiful nursing of you, you tapped out of your brave-facing. Practically begged him to return you to your apartment, where all your remedies resided.

If there was something that united the men of your world, it was their haphazard approach to health crises. Taehyung possessed a pitiful two (2) painkillers. The nasty, round, chalky type that got you gagging. Expiry date: Last year. No hot water bottle, no frozen goods to improvise a cold compress. When questioned about his unreadiness in the face of illness, his reasoning was ridiculous. Sound, but ridiculous. 'I never get sick, so I don't need it.’ The painkillers were Jimin’s.

Hoseok and Yoongi were much the same. The former would simply turn up on your doorstep and check-in to your veritable inpatient clinic and expect private-tier care. For the latter, you'd have to make a house visit, because he never got sick, and he didn't need you fussing over him so. And yet he was the one that fell ill the most. The one that needed the most tender of care.

Sigh.

Today, you required it. And that was how you now found yourself back home, a day earlier than you would have preferred. You tottered out of Taehyung's car in your royal red slanket, pyjama pants dragging on wet asphalt. It took what waning stamina you possessed to gaze upward at the same balconies Jungkook strode yesterday. It was like looking on an untouched crime scene; as gloomily lit and ominous as it had been then.

Taehyung came to your side, and then a little in front, surveying that same sight. "Looks like he's gone, noona."

The relief that surged was medicine in itself. "Thank God. Let's go in, quickly." Your teeth chattered animatedly during the climb, even though you burned like the sun incarnate. Taehyung's arm was fast about your waist, steadying you on each of your Everestian steps. Collapse felt close at times, but when your vision began to fail it was the image of Jungkook's guilt-ridden face that rallied you onward. To fall, here, was to expose yourself to the risk of seeing it again.

And that could not happen.

"Do you have the keys—"

"Got 'em." Taehyung was ahead of you in every sense. With the dexterity he was inhibited from displaying earlier, he had your door open before you could reach him. "In you go, babe."

"Thanks." You loped past, unsteady. Unready to climb the flight of stairs immediately within. "Why do I have a maisonette?" The question was to no-one, or God.

Taehyung answered anyway. “Because you’re a woman of discerning taste.” Large hands found your blanketed backside, lending you their support. “Plus, when the bedroom’s upstairs, the neighbours can’t hear.”

“A valid point,” you ceded, beginning your ascent. Even with Taehyung - quite literally - bringing up the rear, your legs felt like those of an unpractised infant. It was astonishing just how quickly the virus had incapacitated you.

Still. The higher you climbed, the handsier Taehyung became. He stole squeezes of your rump with every step. Said it was incentive to keep going.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

After much of his unscrupulous groping, the laughter finally broke free. "Oh my God, you're being so shameless right now." Another shaky step. "I wish I had a stairmaster."

He wasn't done being outrageous. "Sit back and I'll stairmaster you all the way up, babe."

The giggling became painful. Welcome, but painful. "Stop."

At the top of the staircase, you stopped to compose your failing limbs. It was alarming just how vital you'd been this morning. This afternoon, you felt one laboured breath from death. "One sec."

"I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn't be going anywhere in your condition." His two, warm hands stabilised you from the back, preventing an inevitable tumble. "I coulda just bought more painkillers and whatever else you needed."

"It's alright, Tae. I had to come back at some point soon, anyway. My keys for the cafe are here and I'm opening tomorrow." Blotting the sweat from your brow, you advanced on unstable legs to the sofa and immediately crumpled onto its familiar comfort. "Plus, when I'm sick, I like to be sick at home."

"I don't think you'll be going into work tomorrow." By the time it took you to maneuver yourself onto your stomach, Taehyung was stood over you, hands emphatically on hips. "Look at you. Can't even get comfortable without exhausting yourself."

"I don't wanna let Hoseok down." Nor did you want to enlighten him to your current romantic quandry, though. Ugh. "But I do feel terrible. If I’m no better later, I might text him."

"Wow, I thought for sure it would take far more convincing than that," Taehyung snickered, eyes round with mock shock. He'd accumulated a number of dirty dishes from your coffee table in his hands. "Glad you're prepared to rest. Stay there and let me get whatever it is you need. I'll clean your place up a little as well, so don't stress about it."

"No—Tae—"

"Hush. Get the pyjama bottoms off, too, they're wet on the bottom."

You'd been shouldering so much discomfort that your freezing wet ankles had eluded you. A glance down. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know if I can, though." You flopped your feeble arms. "Too far to reach." Plus, Taehyung could undress you now. To disrobe in any other way was to squander the opportunity.

His mouth curved villainously. "Okay." Clap. "Let's see if I can do this in one swift move. Like a magician pulling a table cloth."

Before his proposition had entirely processed, he pinched the hems of your sodden pyjama bottoms and snatched them from your legs. "Wh—"

"Open sesame!"

Wheezy giggling filled the air. "Oh, it hurts to laugh. Fuck." Being semi-naked and comically incapacitated only heightened the hilarity. Taehyung straddled your legs, twirling the wet pants in triumph— "Oww. Oh my God, stop, I can’t—” More rasping laughter. “What even goes on in your head? Also, magicians don't shout open sesame when they do that shit."

"I do. That's why other magicians suck. They say the wrong words." He spoke it like he believed it, and for a moment he was again the boy from childhood, proclaiming the weirdest - but sincerest - of things. And now he was your loveable oddball. "Daddy's gonna get you some dry ones."

And there was the gross-ass man he'd grown into.

Nevermind.

"Okay, you're taking that in a direction I don't want to go in, Tae," you protested, flimsily, through persistent laughs. With a half-hearted kick, you nudged him toward your bedroom. "Hurry up, my ass is getting cold."

“A cold ass will do you good,” was his nonsensical retort. He wriggled out of his own, damp jeans as he went, gifting you the sight of his luscious ass in curve-hugging cotton.

You were appallingly close to catcalling take the boxers off too!, but in your current state you could barely lift a pinky, let alone give him the vigorous fucking he deserved.

---

A little channel-hopping later, Taehyung returned. Armed, coincidentally, with your favourite flannel bottoms. Yes, it was likely just coincidence, but the romantic in you posited destiny. "Legs up," he commanded. You did try, but the attempt was laughable. Taehyung's sigh hit the back of your thighs. "Listen here, lazy," he crooned, turning your body with the care one would an undercooked omelette. Pyjama pants in hand, he glowered down at your defiant face, brandishing them like a threat. "You gonna co-operate?"

"Nope." You turned your attention to the TV to stifle further laughter. Why you were hindering his attempts to help with your misbehaviour was anyone's guess. There was something irresistible about making trouble for him, though. Probably because Taehyung, too, was an unrepenting rascal.

"Okay then," was his equivocal response. You scrutinised him through narrowed eyes, waiting on his next, underhanded move.

Which was to tickle your feet. Underhanded indeed.

"Oh, God, no!" you yelped, cried, rasped for breath. Flailed your legs like a fawn on skates.

"Thought you couldn't move, huh? Huh?" Taehyung caught your ankles amidst their thrashing and pulled them through freshly-laundered flannel.

Once the pyjamas reached your knees, you relented in your nonsense and shot him a buoyant smile. "Thanks."

"Hips up."

This time, you were obedient.

And Taehyung was thankful. A fine smile shone back at you as he settled the waistband around your hips. Your smile, however, drifted. Awe replaced it as you stole glances at his beautifully-hewn features. He truly was sublime. The bridge of his nose was high and strong, its tip hosting the most precious of moles. Beneath his bottom lip there was another. These little details, of course, hadn’t escaped you before, but it was something to see them so close now. With time, you would kiss each and every of his chaotically placed moles.

When you recalled your gaze upward, Taehyung was watching you. The chocolate of his eyes was molten with feeling. Love and warmth irradiated him. "Can't believe you're mine now."

It was crucial that you kiss him.

You moved to do so. His lips were only a breath away. But then—

Three, distinct knocks.

You traded looks. Yours, petrified. His, outraged.

"Wait—"

But Taehyung's weight had already left you. An intimidating energy lingered in his wake as he strode toward the staircase, fists clenched. "I'll get that."

"Tae, no—"

The difficulty with which it took you to extricate yourself from your slanket was all the more frustrating for the urgency of the situation. You staggered, almost toppled, to catch him, but he'd already descended the steps by the time you reached the top. Damn those lovely, long legs of his. All you could do now was brace yourself on either bannister to prevent a gruesome fall. Because no amount of honeyed pleading was going to stop him. You peered, lightly nauseous, down the expanse of stair as Taehyung slung open the door.

It came as no surprise that it was Jungkook stood there, his doe-eyes wide.

It eviscerated your guts, nonetheless, to see him.

“Noona!”

At first, he lit up in elation. Perhaps he thought the door-answerer to be you. When Taehyung’s identity became clear, however, that elation morphed. First, to shock. Your long-legged lover wasn’t wearing pants, after all. But when Jungkook spied you at the back all shy, sadness again descended upon him. It was a sadistic hope that your sickly appearance intensified that upset. That it fueled his guilt for having decimated you. With every, shredded fibre of your being, you wished Jungkook hurt.

“Thank you for answering the door,” he began with an earnest bow, as though he didn’t know just how much you abhorred him. “H—”

"I answered the door. What do you want?" Taehyung straddled the doorframe, asserting his dominance over the territory. Jungkook's every attempt to look past him was foiled. The lissom man angled himself obstructively, and yet you sought Jungkook's face, too. Wanted to glimpse the heartbreaker for yourself, like he was some loathsome thing of legend. Like it was hard to believe you'd looked into that face just yesterday and seen the world. "Don't you ever give up?" he added, his patience sounding pencil-thin.

After several, weighty seconds of silence, Jungkook eventually acknowledged Taehyung's existence. Addressed him earnestly. "I know I'm not welcome here. I just want a couple of minutes with ____ to explain what she saw—" A derisive snort threatened to cut him off, so he continued hastily, and louder— "—Not for my benefit. For hers. I don't want her to—to—" Choked with frustration, Jungkook thrust himself into your sightline. Implored you with large, gleaming eyes. "I don't want you to blame yourself in any way."

You despised how pregnable you were under his gaze. Like imminent, avoidable death, it became impossible to look away. The void called. There, in his desolate eyes. He wanted you to join him.

No, Jungkook didn’t need you anymore. What he wanted was absolution. At great personal cost to you. But whatever he wished, no matter how detrimental, you would likely grant.

Because as much as you hated him, you loved him.

“I—”

But you loved Taehyung, too.

“____?” And he was there, soft voice enticing you back toward the light. Back toward his pretty face and tender-hearted intentions. There was no hurt to be had with Taehyung.

"I don't,” you spat, clear-minded once more. “I don’t blame myself, Jungkook. Only you.”

But you did blame yourself. Every second since, in fact.

Too fat, too boring, too ugly, too old, too much baggage—

It mustn't have been too convincing an outburst. Jungkook's mouth remained a thin, grim line. And those fucking eyes of his were so fucking ridiculously big and sad and—fuck!

It was all too much.

Mercifully, Taehyung was composed enough to mediate. You, however, were on the brink of emotional - and physical - collapse. "You heard her." Again, he filled out the doorframe. Stood provocatively close to the man in front. "You fucked up majorly. Actually—" Taehyung leaned in. His baritone dived lower. "You're lucky we're not alone right now."

Jungkook did not recoil an inch. Neither did he square up, though. He just stood, toe-to-toe with Taehyung, receiving the vitriol.

"You've imparted your message. You’re too late. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Are you finally going to go?"

At that, something bubbled within Jungkook. It shook his frame, balled his fists. Blinking came more rapidly. And then— "I know all that, dude. Look, I’m not here to fight with you. I appreciate what you’re doing, and that you’re protecting her, but I just—I need to talk to noona—to ___ a little longer. Privately. I just need a little more time. Please. Let me get the words out."

Taehyung bore impossibly close. "You don't need more time."

Jungkook’s mouth opened, combatively downturned. But whatever he meant to launch next was stymied when you took one, noodly step down the stairs. Taehyung turned toward the movement, and Jungkook peered past. It was then that he clocked just how arduous it was for you to move. “Noona? Are you okay?”

Dizzyness crowded your peripheral vision. But Jungkook was front and centre, and so painfully clear, that the influenza quietened. "I don't want to see you, Jungkook. I’m pretty sure I got that across yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone? What if I don’t even want to hear your damn sob story?"

He fell mute when your words reached him. Like he could scarcely believe you'd deigned him worthy of directly addressing. Palms pressed together and with his mouth agape, he looked the picture of a supplicant.

But he was unworthy.

No, I am.

You hung your head again. It was strenuous on your neck; weighing like a cannonball. "I don't want to stand here all day, Jungkook. Fucking say something. Why did you come here if—"

"Because I love you!” he gasped. “I love you, and—"

"Bullshit you do!"

It came from Taehyung, not you. He'd turned back, teeth bared, no longer saying but growling. There he was. Your guard dog. The leash was straining. "You don't love someone and hide a fucking fiancee, you piece of shit." Jungkook flinched at Taehyung's ferocity, but remained stalwart on his spot. Curled his lip instead. "You blew it. Now go."

Jungkook shook his head suddenly, violently. Flung rain from his hair and onto the walls. "This has nothing to do with you!" The bridge of his nose scrunched tight and bared not bunny teeth, but fangs.

Taehyung swatted away the finger poised aggressively at his chest. Stepped closer, but didn't stop. No, he bumped him back toward the threshold with his chest. "It does now. Read between the lines, dumbass."

Jungkook was ineffably innocent. “What do you mean?” He stared into Taehyung’s narrowed eyes to glean more meaning.

And then he gulped.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered to Taehyung’s immodestly nude legs, and clarity began to dawn. It astounded you how little reaction Taehyung’s state of undress had initially garnered from Jungkook. But now he was giving the situation its due attention.

A few, unmoving moments later, he gulped again. Harder this time, like something tangibly obstructed his speech. “N-Noona?” It was a mere rasp.

When Jungkook looked back, eyes glossy with devastation, your heart tore again. Right along its freshly-stitched seams. You tried desperately to avert your gaze, but the void shimmering back at you was dense. His voice reached for you again. "____?"

Your name, alien in tone, was what finally closed your eyes. Fresh tears ran down established tracks. You turned away, grip on the bannisters dubious.

"You and—him?" Jungkook gasped, so quietly, so pained, it was like agonal breath.

You crumpled as if stomped on. Your chest was ablaze, and you wanted so desperately to clutch at it. To smother it. To cradle your torso as it caved once more. But you were too impaired to move. Instead, you stood there, frozen and hunched, crying uglier than you could remember ever letting anyone see. Staring at your toes as the carpet caught your tears.

But why? You should be overjoyed to shatter him as he had you.

"Get it? Now go." Taehyung sighed, all the fight siphoning from him. He backed up from Jungkook and went monotone. "You've upset ___. Again. This is your last warning. Get going."

Predictably, Jungkook didn't budge. In the ensuing silence, however, he didn't plead his case as he once would have done. No, something about him was changed. An aggrieved aura hugged him, expanded, until— "Last warning? Fuck you, Kim Taehyung." His eyes, once brimming with tears, now seared with a fury. Even Taehyung looked taken aback. The outburst came sharp despite its gentle source. Again, Jungkook thrust forward an accusing finger. "Don't pretend you're better than me. You're selfish. I knew you couldn't wait to get your dick in her. I knew it ever since we saw you at the movies and you looked so fucking jealous—"

The gasp that exited you was so heavy with outrage it almost took you with it. You gripped the bannisters tighter, wobbled down two further steps. You had to de-escalate this. Somehow. "Jungkook!"

He granted you a brief, guilt-ridden side-glance before once again affixing his target with a glare. "You were just waiting for your moment, weren't you? Didn't want her 'til I had her. Couldn't bear the thought of your closest friend not being one of your conquests."

“Shut the fuck up!”

You didn't make it in time. Not before Taehyung wound back his elbow and snapped it forward, a hard, coiled fist on its end. It landed, brutal and blunt, on Jungkook's jaw. A dull, fleshy thud resounded, but to you it was like a gunshot. And so was the way his head and body whipped away, spiralling until his knees buffered his fall.

"Oh my G—Jungkook!"

The younger man, crouched away as he was, breathed deep, coppery air. Smeared his mouth along his sleeve, leaving red where it touched. And then, standing, he glared hatred at Taehyung. His shoulders shuddered with untethered anger. "You—"

"It's more than that for me. I can't say the same for you," Taehyung cut in, surveying his reddened knuckles. He flexed his fingers for feeling. "Fucking cheater."

Distracted, Taehyung was unprepared for the solid hunk of human that caught him around his midsection. Jungkook tackled him without caution, throwing his entire, intimidating mass into Taehyung's lankier frame. The two surged into the ground, clawing and grappling at the other's limbs, eyes wild, lips stretched back from teeth.

"Stop!"

"Oh my God, stop it!"

Neither listened. They were feral. Both heard only the rush of blood.

Knowing you must intervene, you manipulated your ragdollish limbs into descending the last half dozen steps. It was then, after an elongated struggle, Jungkook clambered atop Taehyung and fisted the collar of his shirt, glaring daggers enough to maim him.

“You’re so fucking smug—”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who fucked up!” Taehyung crowed from beneath, maniacal. He taunted Jungkook with an angular grin, like he wasn’t the one at disadvantage.

“Shut up!”

Once your feet met ground, you crumbled to your knees, Taehyung's head of hair between them. The sneer he brandished fell when he caught sight of your sweat-soaked face. Pitifully you pressed against Jungkook's shoulders, dissuading him from further violence. You felt like a toreador pushing on 1800lbs of charging bull. Jungkook didn't even so much as register your attempts until you wheezed out, "P-Please stop."

He did. He went rigid, in fact. Trembled, when he became aware of your touch. His rage evaporated and the boy that sat there was no longer a bull but a meek little kit. Trepidation rolled from Jungkook in waves, and he would not meet your eyes.

Why?

Was he now repulsed by you?

How could he judge you for your indiscretion when he—he—!

No. It wasn't an indiscretion. What you did with Taehyung held no moral ambiguity.

It occurred to you, then, that the pair of you hadn't been so close since the last time you were intimate. And happy. Though damp, Jungkook's familiar, and once comforting scent, brushed your nostrils. Perhaps your proximity was what flustered him.

When he finally met your gaze, you knew it to be true. He didn't look upon you with the anger nor revulsion you expected. Not anything obvious, anyway. Instead it was the wide-eyed wonder from your first date. The shyness. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to revisit it.

But then his brows drooped low in remorse. "Noona," he called to you like you were far away. Pined for you. Taehyung's shirt fell from his clutches, and you found his hands on your elbows instead, propping up your drooping form.

Feverish before, you were positively boiling now. To have his gentle palms on you again, no matter the circumstance, was a threat to your hastily-cobbled retreat. His fingertips told you, as they caressed your inner elbow, that any other man's hands would never do. And yet - you squirmed feebly, recalling it - those hands had been on, been in some other woman's body. And that would never do. "Don't touch me, J-Jungkook. Not with those hands."

But it was his hands that stirred your heart into uproar.

No. It was simply the flu. Nothing more. It influenced your body in the oddest ways.

And there was someone that had pumped your blood for far longer.

You cast your eyes to where Taehyung lay, honey hair a halo about his head and eyes only for you. Love bloomed fiercely in the bowels of your heart. “You really don’t look very good.” He made to push Jungkook off, but the younger man was already up on his knees, scanning your wan complexion.

"Are you burning up?" Jungkook murmured, his lips a line of concern. "You feel hot." Again he clasped your elbows, testing along their length for temperature. When he reached your upper arms, he was bold enough to advance on your neck, thumbs either side the line of your jaw. To your great shame, though you attributed it in most part to the fever, you enjoyed Jungkook's handling. "Your glands are out. And—" he pressed a cool, clammy palm to your clammier forehead. Spellbound, your eyes closed. "Yeah, you're even hotter up here, noona."

"No shit, dumbass," Taehyung growled from above. When you opened your eyes, he was no longer supine but towering over the two of you, fingers twitching by his sides. You foresaw Jungkook's imminent scalping if you weren't quick to intervene. "You chased her into torrential rain. She's sick, asshole, and it's your fault."

But there was no need to intervene. Jungkook didn't anger again. Nor did he stare down the man spitting insults. His focus remained fixed on you. On the damage he'd done. The deadened, bloodshot eyes, the pallid skin, the absence of joy. Of understanding. "I-I'm sorry," was all he could think to say? Again?

Desperate, you implored him for more with forlorn eyes. Begged him for sense. Practically mouthed the word please. It would be nothing you wanted to hear, but perhaps hearing it could bring closure. Some semblance of peace, eventually, in some far-off year.

Jungkook stared back, ruminating, and you knew there was no sense to be found. None that you wanted, anyway. Jungkook was a liar, an adulterer, a manipulator—

"Alright, you said sorry again. Time to go." Taehyung hauled him up by his underarms and, hopefully, away from you forever. It was a credit to him for tolerating Jungkook’s presence for so long. Especially when all he did was regurgitate the same, tired shit. "Don't come here again, or I'll call the cops," he snarled to Jungkook's ear, spittle flying. With a grip on the scruff of Jungkook's jacket, he whirled him toward the door.

"She's not my fiancee!"

Taehyung paused. As did you, in your agonised ascent into standing.

"She's not my fiancee," Jungkook repeated over his shoulder, looking for you over his gathering jacket. "I wanted to talk to you about it calmly, and in private. It's not simple, and it’s hard to believe."

"Don't lie to me n-now, Jungkook." The finger with which you jabbed at him, trembled. "I asked you that. You said she was."

Taehyung's expression darkened by the second. It would devolve into another brawl at this rate, and you didn't want that. Not because you didn't want to see Jungkook get served, but because you didn't want him in your presence another gut-wrenching moment.

Brazenly, Jungkook yanked himself from Taehyung's grip and turned, palms up and pacifying. He inched back toward the door; a gesture of his intent to finally leave. "Look. It's because technically she is, but it's not real—I'm going, asshole!—" Jungkook waved his arms demonstratively at the nearing door. Having appeased Taehyung, he pinned you again with fervent eyes. "What you saw wasn't the truth. If you won't hear me out entirely, at least hear that.”

“No-one believes you. Everything you say is a fucking contradiction.” Taehyung was red and riled again.

Jungkook ignored him, his time short. “I won't text you anymore, I won't come here anymore. What I’ve done to you is unforgivable. I know that. I should never have lied. But—" The lamp outside illuminated his bedraggled hair. The tip of his nose when he turned. "You know my number if you do want to hear me out. I'll be around for a bit longer.”

A bit longer?

You granted him the minutest of nods.

It was enough. Nodding back, Jungkook turned on his heel and flew around the corner. And though he was gone, his silhouette stayed seared into your retinas, haunting your every blink. It was only when Taehyung replaced him in the doorway that Jungkook faded. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you back on the sofa.”

Wow, he was tall.

Oh.

Somehow, you were on the floor again. You squinted up at him with sore, watering eyes, overwhelmed by it all. You reached for him like an infant would its parent, too vulnerable to move, and too stupid to know better. “Okay.”

"It’s been a shitty day, but I’m gonna try and make it better. Why don’t we have a Netflix nostalgiafest?" Taehyung cooed into your sodden hair, no minding the sweat. He wound your arms around his neck, legs about his waist and chauffered you up the stairs, grunting by the step. Exaggerating the effort by comedic amounts in order to provoke you.

“Sure.”

But you were far, far away. Hidden behind your glazed eyes, the encounter replayed on loop. Lingered on Jungkook's Disney eyes and big buck teeth. The ones you loved back when he deserved to be loved. The nonsense he spouted toward the end was of particular interest in your mental re-runs, even though it should have immediately been dismissed.

'What you saw wasn't the truth.'

But neither was his relationship with you. Not when he kept such weighty secrets as sport.

'I'll be around for a bit longer.'

And that? Another of his manipulative tactics? Was he really leaving, or merely dangling the threat of it?

But why would it be a threat? You wanted nothing more than him to be gone.

Oh, it was all so bad. Everything was bad. Everything was too much, and, oh, even being in your body was too much, let alone your mind. You were drowning in affliction. Assailed from all sides with nothing for defense.

"Babe."

All went black, and then you opened your eyes. Taehyung stood over you, mouth downturned. Cotton caressed your naked skin, and you knew these were your sheets. This was your bed. Your lover had stripped you of your oppressive pyjamas. You stared at the mole on his nose, the one under his bottom lip. One, two. You could count to two.

"Are you doing okay? Your fever really spiked there. Should I call a doctor?"

“No, no.”

Perhaps you'd simply hallucinated the entire encounter. Perhaps it was your mind's exercise in catharsis. Or perhaps Jungkook had never existed to begin with, and his betrayal was the product of a detailed fever dream. Taehyung was real, though, and here he was still. Your forever best friend. Your secret love. You had not yet confessed your love to this real Taehyung. But now you were awake, you would seize the chance. Because if there was one thing your prolonged nightmare had taught you, it was that you should have just done it to begin with. On the porch those years ago, when the stars weighed heavy over his head and dared you to kiss him.

"I love you," you rasped, sounding like Death's next call.

And just like it should have happened then, Taehyung lowered his face to yours. "I love you too, noona," he murmured through a joyous smile, brushing together your noses first, lips second. "But it's time for your next dose of painkillers. We gotta get this in you ‘cause your fever’s really mounting. Pretty sure you’ve been hallucinating. It’s worrying me. I’m this close—” he pinched together his fingers— “to calling a doctor. I don't think that asshole turning up did you much good."

Brainless, you repeated. "No doctor. Asshole?"

"Yeah, Jungkook." A tray of painkillers dangled from the corner of Taehyung’s mouth while he poured water. "Lying douchebag. Who, by the way, will not be working at the school anymore. Not if I have something to say about it."

The words went in, but floated right back out. The ceiling swirled.

"Oh." He was real.

Of course, you knew that. Even in the murk of fever it was apparent. Still, it’d been nice to pretend for a while.

The sound of preparation ceased and the mattress dipped. Taehyung extended your next dose and a glass of water to you. His expression was no longer so sunny, but clouded with disquiet. "Talk to me, ____. I know you're sick, but that's not all that's going on in that muddled head of yours. It might help to talk. I know you don’t like it, but you don’t have to be afraid. Just try it."

It was a credit to your weakened state that you were so loose-lipped. You downed the pills and curled around Taehyung's seated position, molding to his lap. "I'm just—I don't know." Your cheek was hot against his thigh. His Calvin Klein waistband stared back at you. "I don't want to be sad anymore. I'm so, so sad. It's unbearable. I can't handle much as it is. It doesn't take a lot to drag me down, but this, this—" Tears welled. Taehyung's slender fingers were there to catch them. "This feels almost too much. Even with you here. It's like I'm locked in a mental prison."

"I know, babe," he whispered, stroking your face free of limpid hair. "It's gonna take a while to feel better, like it does with any big change. What he did to you was villain material. Of course you're going to be devastated." For once, you listened. "You don't owe him forgiveness, though he tried his damned best to get it. For his own selfish satisfaction, I'm sure. And you don't owe him anything else, either, not even the thoughts in your brain. Though I know that's gonna take a while, too. I'm sure it's all you can think about." You nodded, snuffled into your blanket until it was wet. A sob felt ripe for eruption. "The flu won't make things easier, either. You're not losing your mind. You just need rest. And when you're not resting, distraction. I'm on hand for the latter." All that he said was all that you craved to hear. A tremulous smile - of relief, of gratitude - wobbled into place. Taehyung must have seen. "That's it, babe. It won't always be this bad, okay?"

You nodded, marring his exemplary thighs with a variety of unpleasant excretions. "Ugh. Sorry." You’d been intimate just one day with Taehyung and you were already establishing yourself as a repellent bog monster. Usually that happens at least 3 years in.

Taehyung merely chuckled. Kept the tissue box out of reach when you moved for it, thinking himself funny. It was only upon your panicked pleas of oh my god, snot’s gonna go in my mouth, that he finally indulged you. By wiping your nose for you, cooing all the while. "That better, little baby?"

Your face spelt vexation. But inwardly, yes, yes, it was better.

Taehyung made you so.

Next: 13 ASAP! || WYLEI Masterlist

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #taehyung #kim taehyung #jungkook angst #taehyung angst #jungkook scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts angst #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #wylei

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inkykeiji · 3 years

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Hey hi hello so I have spent the past four days just binge reading every single bnha fic (and questions lbr) you have and my brain is officially rotted. Like I’m fully living in the touya-nii universe right now. BMB kills me in every good way and I fully got sucked into it and tbh I’m still processing part 3 because like...Ouchy it hits so close to home. I’m not even a keigo Stan but like....you got me, let’s go you scummy lil man and see what trouble we can get into. Also side note: snowman and me is 100% my comfort fic now sorry I make the rules it’s mine I’m pretty sure I’ve read it like three times now ((Also like this is kinda hard to say but,,,,,thanks for touya-nii apparently that’s a ~thing~ for me (((and fucking natsuo,,,just both of them make me feel whoopsy daisy))))) (´ ▽｀).。ｏ♡

You’re an amazing writer and capture everyone so perfectly. It’s crazy the amount of love and attention you put into both your AUs and just the general answers and comments you write about the canon characters. I know you’ve talked about it a lot but I’m still in awe at how authentically and perfectly you capture drug addiction and mental illness. I can see so much of myself in these situations you’ve created and honestly it’s so wonderful (and strangely comforting/calming?) to see it. so truly thanks for being an amazing writer. I can’t wait to read all the works you have planned!! I’m so excited!! ♡＾▽＾♡

Ahhh I have so many questions and comments and just general conversation but I definitely don’t want to overwhelm you!! I don’t think I’ve ever written to a blog but with the amount of joy yours gives me I just had to share my feelings!!

(୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞ᵗʱᵃᵑᵏઽ*♡

HELLO HEY HI!!!!

oh my GOD anon please let me just say, this message means the absolute WORLD to me, i’ll treasure it forever <33 i’m beyond happy to hear that you enjoy my work so much, and OVERJOYED to hear that some of it even brings you comfort <33333 that is seriously one of the best compliments to receive; to know that my work is bringing you such entertainment or solace is so incredible and i appreciate you sharing this with me more than i can tell you <3

thank you so, so much for such compassionate and beautiful words. i know that this can sound a little cringy when i say it, but writing truly does mean everything to me and it’s all i want to do with my life. so to receive such sweet words, that acknowledge and appreciate the love that goes into my works--that just, again, means the whole world to me. it makes me so happy and warm to hear, so thank you <33 my blog is also incredibly important to me; it’s become a little safe space online for both me AND all of you, and i value that so much—we’ve created such a beautiful little community here together, and i love it!! i always work hard to put in the same amount of effort asking asks as any of you do sending them, because you DESERVE that and because i genuinely want to.

oh gosh anon, hearing you say that you find those aspects of my work comforting/calming literally makes my heart fucking burst. if you’ve been reading through my asks then you probably already know this, but i use writing to cope with my own experiences, so i completely understand the cathartic elements you may also be feeling, and just HEARING that it helps you as well is just !!!!!!!!! i literally don’t even have words for how it makes me feel. happy and thankful don’t even begin to cut it, but knowing that i can bring other people happiness or enjoyment and/or comfort through my work literally has my whole body filling with warmth!!!!! it’s just so amazing <33

omg omg omg please ask away!!!! i love talking to you all so much no matter what it’s about, and my ask box is always open for you!!! (as you’ve probably noticed) it may take me a few days to answer them as i find i’m always about a day or so behind with my asks, but i try very hard to answer nearly everything i get!! so ask away!!!!

god this message is so so so lovely, i’ve read through it a thousand times now just with tears in my eyes (i’m a huge crybaby ehehe <3) and i really will cherish it forever <333 thank you, i love you <3

#literal tears in my eyes #this is such a sweet ask #i love it so much #i love YOU so much!!!!#your words are very very special to me #thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me #i appreciate it a lot!!!#but YES feel free to come chat with me about anything!!!#i hope you're having a splendid weekend bb <33 #please stay safe out there!!#sweet anon 🥺#clari gets mail

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arcanemoody · 4 years

Text

Gotham Secret Santa

Title: Songbook

Author: arcanemoody Tags: Season 5, post-S05E07: Ace Chemicals, Bickering Like an Old Married Couple, Referenced Past Trauma, Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, 78prm, Happy Ending Summary: Whatever Ed needs, he can have. Oswald isn’t sure how he can make that any clearer.

For @ckatattack for the @gotham-secret-santa. I hope you like it!

Oswald sorted bolts at his ally’s behest. He helped push the tables together in the library, cleared the combined space so that his partner could work on the engine of the submarine while maintaining a clear view of each schematic. All while humming to himself and emptying boxes of scrap on the side table designated for his work; filing bolts, screws, and other detritus into separate piles and compartments for easy retrieval.

Contrary to the accusations Edward liked to throw at him, he hadn’t intended for his old friend and enemy to be doing the majority of the work -- conceptualizing, working from schematics, redesigning schematics. Oswald himself found none of this intuitive, and had hoped by making himself scarce, Ed's progress could continue uninterrupted. His 10th-grade shop teacher had said once, with a screwdriver in his hand, Oswald Cobblepot was essentially a gremlin. He couldn’t even wire a lamp from a kit; couldn’t sand or carve the blocks used to make a simple standing clock. And his lack of technical acumen was matched only by his inability to commit to physical labor. A submarine was seriously outside his expertise. Seeing to their cargo and procuring the niceties and basic needs his colleague eschewed in favor of managing his labor was much more his speed. He checked on (and added to) their pile of treasure. He made sure Ed had decent food and untainted water. He sorted bolts. He worked very, very hard to tamp down any indignity he felt in each task.

"Are you humming Dinah Shore?"

It took a moment for him to realize that Ed was addressing him. "What?"

"That song. What are you humming?"

Oswald shook his head, slightly dazed. "I-I don't know. It's just something I remembered… maybe from one of my mother’s records? Put it in a box, tie it with a ribbon—'

“...would surely fill the deep blue sea,” Ed finished in his gentle tenor. “That's Dinah Shore.”

“Is it?” Oswald shrugged. “Huh. Well, if you're that desperate for me to not sing it, I think I must have the actual record somewhere.” Ed’s brow furrowed.

“78RPM? Red label? Columbia logo?”

“I think so.”

“That‘s my record, Oswald!” he shouted, taking a large step forward.

His brain froze up in the way it tended to do nowadays any time Ed leveled an accusation at him, grappling with whether it was warranted and whether the vehemence required a match in tone. This did not. He took a deep breath.

“Technically speaking, it’s my record. I bought it.”

“Yeah, along with the rest of my records, my books and my clothes,” Ed shot back. “Well, excuse me for wanting you to feel at home when you got out of Arkham!”

The lot at the police auction had been purchased through an intermediary -- the same intermediary that made a hefty donation to the policemen's union under the name of the Van Dahl living trust. Oswald had known that if the GCPD had felt free enough to use his name to trap Edward into a confession, they would probably be vindictive enough to refuse his name on a purchase order.

"And anyway, since you left them all at the manor, I'd say that still makes them mine.”

“Technically speaking,” he replied, mimicking Oswald’s earlier tone. “I didn't leave.” “You certainly weren't living there when I got back!” The air in the house had been stale the day he and Fries forced the front door open. Only the kitchen had maintained its normal, spotless, lived-in atmosphere, due to Olga’s continued employment, salary operating on an automatic deposit. The rest had fallen into a cluttered disrepair that illustrated the descent of Riddler’s madness.

“I wasn't not living there.”

“Of course not. You were on the run. Well, you were 'not living there' just enough that I gave Ivy your room.'

“No you didn’t.” Ed’s statement was dismissive rather than outraged. Not an accusation; a fact. Confirming that he had evidence to back up his claim.

“How do you know?” Oswald asked, curious.

“Because when I went there in March, my room was as I left it.”

March.

Two months before Sofia had been taken out for good.

When Riddler had broken him out of Arkham, the purple panel coat with the fur trimmed collar (flattened now and in desperate need of dry cleaning) had been slung across the passenger seat of the truck. The coat he had left in Ed’s apartment after Galavan’s murder, the coat he’d subsequently gotten back after the GCPD delivered the lot from the auction. He had been too preoccupied at the time to question its presence or how Ed might have retrieved it when Oswald himself had changed the locks a year earlier.

“You broke into my house!” “It was hardly breaking in — the windows weren’t even locked,” he paused at Oswald’s shocked expression. “I never did it when you were home. Just after you were arrested and, later, when you were squatting at Falcone’s place.”

“Right, because that makes it better! What were you even doing there?”’

“Looking for my things, mainly. I wore the same suit for months and it wasn’t like I had a lot of loose change to throw around, even with Lee’s help.” “So you turned to house breaking. How clever of you.”

“One house. And I didn’t take anything that wasn’t already mine.”

‘Just as before.’ Oswald flinched at the thought, turned away. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, refrained from upturning the table with all of the bolts he’d sorted. One could afford to pick one’s battles during a long-form escape attempt. .

“Well you can go back for your precious record collection any time you like! If the front door is still on the hinges, I’ll even loan you my key.”

Said key disappeared from his keyring two days later, around the time Oswald found the library work space empty.

-- He did not turn up to sort bolts, shuffle schematics or retrieve provisions for Edward the next day.

Or the next day.

He arranged trades. He drank wine on Barbara’s sofa, listening to her talk through the physical transformations of her second trimester and Lee Thompkins’ warnings about high heels being a fall risk and, therefore, a risk to the fetus.

“As if I would ever fall,” she scoffed.

He refrained from stating the obvious, pouring himself another glass to avoid grinding his teeth.

On the third day, he turned up to an empty room. He sat waiting in the empty library long into the evening. The sun was setting, filling the room with an orange glow when a member of his security team turned up, an anxious expression on their face.

“Boss.”

“Where is he?”

-- First Bank of Gotham. A historic granite and lime building measuring half a city block on the edge of the industrial sector on the north side.

The Court of Owls had done a good job of hiding their centuries-worth of dirty work in plain sight. Post-No Man’s Land “restructuring,“ the alley where he and Edward had made their bloody escape two years earlier was on the edge of Firefly’s territory, frequently disputed by Fries’ minions staking a claim. The odds had been in Firefly’s favor recently and Bridgit, to Oswald’s surprise, allowed him to pass through with barely a nod of encouragement.

“String Bean entered through the southwest staircase. My scouts say he’s been there a while,” she lifted her mask, giving him a pointed stare. “You’ve got an hour, Pengy.”

Oswald nodded, leaving his guards under his former housemate’s watchful eye (and flamethrower). This was Firefly being sentimental. He knew it wouldn’t last long if they overstayed their welcome.

There were more stairs than he remembered. Each floor opened onto a circular hall of doors with the door knobs either broken or missing, papers and files scattered, the mundane facade of an centuries-old evil organization that still needed three floors of pencil pushers to move their assets and occasionally serve as cannon fodder. Oswald remembered their holding cells being on the sixth floor, close to the roof. The trip to the ground level had been a whirlwind of improvised carnage -- guards, personnel, people in uniforms, people in office wear, he and Ed and tore through everyone on their way out, before crashing onto the pavement outside, covered in the blood of violent rebirth.

He found Edward on the fourth floor, door ajar on what had once been a holding area, dilapidated desks and disabled security gates, loose wires where key panel locks had once been. Long legs folded into a too small office chair, eyes downcast, his friend’s visage brought a lump to his throat.

“Reliving old memories?” Oswald asked, annoyed even as the fear and agony he’d been holding in check all day melted from him.

Ed didn’t look up.

“Edward?”

Another long moment passed before he finally spoke.

“I found my overcoat,” he said, gesturing at the pile of green plaid slung over the crook of one arm and draped over his lap. Nearly two years in dark storage, no doubt covered in mildew, dust mites, and other unspeakable things.

“Were you looking for that recently?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought about it, or this place in quite some time. I was looking for scrap steel for the outer panels, maybe some extra supplies... I took a notion once I realized where I was. Have I been gone long?”

“Six hours.” Eight, though Ed didn’t need to know just how early Oswald had turned up to the library.

“I couldn’t find any of your stuff. Or anything that looked like it might be yours. Sorry.”

Oswald did his best to contain his reaction, that Ed had done something thoughtful. For his sake. He winced against the ripple of familiar warmth, butterflies. Things he could not afford in the midst of a long-form escape attempt.

“It doesn’t matter. Are you ready to go now?”

Ed nodded, walking half a step behind as they descended back down the stairs.

“How long were you their prisoner?” He asked, after they had crossed the perimeter, doubling back twice to avoid whatever shadows Ed seemed positive were following them. The sun had long since set and what little light they had was from the security teams flanking them, throwing long shadows on the broken pavement.

“Before you arrived?” Ed shrugged. “A few weeks maybe? I was interrogated before they put me in the cage. It was difficult to keep track but not impossible. It wasn’t like Arkham -- their objectives involved keeping me alive. Though what keeping me alive meant in a city they wanted to destroy is anybody’s guess.”

Probably holding his sage intellect in storage for future endeavors, as Barbara had. Oswald felt angry on his old friend’s behalf as well as himself. He hadn’t been interrogated -- just sedated, stripped, and thrown in a cell. For the formerly missing mayor of the city, it was beyond insulting.

Ed wasn’t finished.

“They gave me haloperidol so they could question me. That was bad. I was still detoxing at first -- that was worse.”

“From what?”

“Amphetamines, mostly. And whatever psychotropics Tabitha gave me. Withdrawal symptoms ideally shouldn’t last as long as those did. I tapered off to avoid complications with my heart muscle, adrenal glands...”

Oswald held his breath.

Following Riddler’s progress after his death had been difficult from the distance of Ivy’s greenhouse hideaway in Bludhaven. Even after returning home, tracking headlines and articles stopped at a certain date, bleeding into coverage of the mayor’s disappearance. One of those articles included a grainy shot of Ed leaving a press conference at city hall, face a mask of composure, but for the downward cast of distressed brown eyes in rubbed gray newsprint.

He knew Ed had tripled his original kill count in less than two months. And that he’d kept the authorities on the run right up until Jim Gordon decided handing him over to a cabal with designs on child abduction and mass murder was a charming notion. That Ed himself had crossed that threshold virtually without a fight.

“...why?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Uppers tends to do that--”

“I didn’t want to sleep,” his tone took on a sharp edge and he was glaring at Oswald again. “I don’t even know why you’re asking me. You know exactly how long I was there. You went to Jim first. You always go to him first.”

That jab… felt oddly personal. Oswald wondered what he was missing in that accusation— the narrowed gaze and the resentful pinch to his mouth. Never mind that Jim Gordon was the one who arrested and subsequently reported the “Riddler’s” escape and Ed, a forensic investigator, should have known the importance of following clues.

“If I could gauge what Jim knew, I had a bead on what the rest of the GCPD knew and I could plan accordingly. So, yes, I went to him. And he lied to me and I knew it -- just like I always know when he lies to me. The man has a terrible poker face.”

“So do you.”

“So stop playing with me,” he said, choking up. Having his own methods questioned was galling. And it wasn’t as though his talent for shallow subterfuge hadn’t fooled him once— back when Ed cared about him and a blind spot was established. Memories that brought a salty weighty to the back of his throat and behind his eyes. “Did you even find out ‘who runs Gotham?’”

The question was flippant, almost cruel. Ed’s answer was not.

“That and more,” he replied, somber, almost pensive; enough to deflate Oswald’s ire.

“Well. Good for you, then.”

“There are things they told me,” he said, serious now, neither chiding nor angry. “...I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

Oswald kept his eyes on the dark path ahead, tried not to think about what could be worse to talk about than his anguish over the deaths at Haven or the almost blissful oblivion of his first murders. A distant part of his brain reminded him that it could be still another play, but he had seen Ed devastated enough over time to recognize truth from fiction.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Things that involve you.”

“I understand. Save it if you want, Ed. You can tell me whenever you want to or hang onto it forever. I don’t care.”

The walk back to the library seemed longer than before. Oswald was surprised that Ed continued to shadow him even as the streets (what had once been streets) diverged and he headed in the direction of city hall.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re not capable of scaring me!” he said. Patently untrue and Ed knew it, too. “Anyway, I thought you might have gone to the manor.”

“I tried that first,” he replied, producing his keyring from the pocket on his boilersuit. “Yesterday.”

“And?”

“I want to say the front door is still on the hinges, but I couldn’t get more than a few yards away to look. Nature seems to have taken back a good portion of your father’’s estate and... some of it was not happy to find me there.”

“Ivy. Well, it’s good to hear that she's kept up her hobbies,” he laughed, breathlessly. Guilt was rare and pulsed dully in the same pained spot in his stomach where heartbreak loved to dwell. The teenage plant maven had kept Oswald company when he had wanted no one near him and he’d rewarded her generosity of spirit with contempt and vitriol. Forgiveness was, as ever, too high a price to ask for. He’d have to settle for just knowing she was alive.

“Hang on to the key, anyway. We may need it eventually.”

If they ever went back (and if Ivy killed him on sight), Ed would still need to get inside the house.

—

After the bolts and the sonar, after Penn’s arrival and subsequent dispatch, aborted departures and new arrivals and scrambling to recover what they could from the bottom of the river, they managed to fight through the vegetation and rehome the manor.

Oswald arrived with lunch one afternoon and found a 78rpm in a battered paper sleeve on the dining room table. He reached out to touch it, wondering briefly if it was a trick of his remaining eye.

“Ed?” he called out.

“I found your record,” Ed said, closer than he’d initially guessed, initially in his blind spot and then moving over to his left side. No longer disputing ownership. “Not here. It turns out the library’s music archives weren’t completely depleted.”

Oswald smiled, turning the record over, noting the red label, the Columbia logo.

“Do we still have a working turntable?”

Ed smiled, amused, offered an arm to guide him.

“Back here.”

It took more than a few breaths to blow the dust off both record and player, more than a few minutes to turn the crank on his father’s old gramophone without overwinding, and finding the appropriate place to drop the needle. The voice that warbled out was familiar in a way that conjured images of his mother’s living room, frying onions in the kitchen, the sharp bite of paprika and heavy salt in the air… none of which echoed Ed’s place in his mind.

“This isn’t Dinah Shore.”

“No, it’s Doris Day,” he replied, a hint of amusement breaking through what, no doubt, had to be a heavy sense of injustice (Ed’s impeccable brain turning on him yet again). “I got the song and the label right but the vocalist wrong. Such an obvious detail to miss.”

Oswald shook his head, reaching out to take his partner’s other arm, squeezing lightly.

“It’s an easy mistake,” he replied, his non-bandaged eye focused on his dearest friend’s shifting expression; dark eyes misty, a hint of a smile. “No worries, my friend.”

Oswald watched Ed swallow, feeling an answering squeeze on his arm. The two of them leaned against each other, swaying, almost in a dance. Oswald hummed. -- A/N: The song Oswald sings is “Put ‘Em in a Box, Tie ‘Em With a Ribbon,” sung by Doris Day. Ed’s thinking of “Love That Boy” sung by Dinah Shore (and actually misremembers it with a lyric from “Mad About Him, Sad Without Him”). Both were released by Columbia in 1947, Doris is singing about taking romance and chucking it in the river, while Dinah is still in the bloom of loving someone from afar, alternately delighted and miserable.

#gotham secret santa #nygmobblepot #my writing #my fic #happy solstice

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tjkiahgb · 5 years

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Episode Recap: 3.15, “Unloading Zone”

Two recaps in two days? The things I do for meaningless internet points.

Bex, Bowie, and Andi sit around the apartment looking at their phones when Bowie suddenly declares it movie night. Everyone’s like, kinda excited about movie night, but not enough to move or do anything about it.

That’s the way we like to movie night.

Bowie says it’s a family night, where they all stare at the same screen. They debate what to see and where to see it but basically realize everything is bad.

Backed into a corner, they realize their only recourse is to take to their phones and the internet to try and find something to watch.

Andi shoots that idea down with a sarcastic “Sounds riveting.”

I take it she’s never seen footage of a swarm of monarch butterflies tearing a cow to shreds in a matter of seconds. I’m talking down to the bone!

They all go back to their phones with the sort of silent resignation that they aren’t going to watch a movie that night and also that they, and frankly all of us, will never stop staring at our phone screens from now until the moment we die. We are prisoners to technology. It is a cage we constructed by mistake and trapped ourselves in permanently by reforming our society around it. It is a karmic form of punishment for our hubris and it will one day be our destruction.

Anyway, please follow me on tumblr dot com, and don’t forget to give my posts likes and reblogs as my self-esteem is built almost entirely upon this.

Speaking of self-esteem: Cyrus.

He and Buffy watch TJ and Kira from afar at the park, where Kira attempts to blind TJ.

Buffy’s trying to figure out if they’re together now, but Cyrus doesn’t know, as they haven’t been hanging out lately. Kira’s been around him almost non-stop and Cyrus is not interested in being around her.

Kira jumps on TJ’s back, providing another stunning metaphor.

My God, she’s got him in a chokehold. She’s attacking him in public! Won’t someone do something?! Basketball boys in the background! Help!

Buffy reassures Cyrus that this won’t last. Kira’s not a nice person, she says, and TJ will figure that out eventually.

At Cloud 10, Andi checks to see if Bex and Celia have made up. Bex doesn’t know, so she checks with Celia to see if they made up.

No.

Bex tells Andi to stop using all the non-sample makeup. Andi’s like, ok, I’ll just take the ones I used. Bex wants to charge her.

Andi, look around! Once again, there are no costumers in the store, just employees and family members. The business cannot afford to bleed money like this!

Andi implores Bex to go talk to Celia, partly because she wants the two to mend their relationship and partly because she probably wants to sneak some more makeup out.

Bex tries to talk to Celia but Celia is cold as ice. Andi makes a joke about it.

That, surprisingly, doesn’t help the situation, so Andi sees herself out.

Bex tells Celia that she knows she’s furious with her for cancelling the wedding, but she would like this whole thing to be over. Celia says it is over. Bex asks her to say something nice to her to prove it.

I dunno, something like, “You are my only daughter and I love you no matter what. I’ve had at least a day to think about it and realized that barn weddings surrounded by alpacas aren’t the most important thing in the world, your happiness is. I would never want to force you into a marriage you weren’t ready for. You have to do what feels right to you. It’s your life, not mine.” I mean, you know, whatever. That’s just a rough draft. I’m open to notes.

But Celia instead sighs and says she’s got nothing.

At the park, TJ sneaks away from Kira long enough to talk to Cyrus alone.

TJ feels like Cyrus has been avoiding him but Cyrus says he hasn’t, TJ’s just been so preoccupied with Kira. TJ’s like, I’ve just been spending some time with her, but Cyrus says it’s the bulk of time. He thinks the two are hitting it off and he’s happy for them.

Don’t put that on me! TJ’s like, we just talk about basketball, the least romantic of the sports! Cyrus asks about the piggyback ride, but TJ says that was because Kira bet him he couldn’t do it and he was like screw you, I have a strong back. I can lift things!

TJ proposes Cyrus hang out with the two of them, but Cyrus isn’t so sure, and to reinforce that point, Kira tracks down TJ using the GPS chip she hid in his pocket and gets real cold, real fast with Cyrus.

TJ’s like, Cyrus should hang out with us, right?

Wouldn’t that be fun if all three of us hung out?

Kira says yes through gritted teeth and TJ’s like, boom! Great! Cool! We can all hang out.

But Cyrus gets the message and decides to scoot.

Do’s to thing.

TJ is sad to see Cyrus go, which Kira notices. She tries to cheer him up by reminding him that she’s still around.

To which TJ is like...

...oh. Yes. Yes, you are.

Later, at The Spoon, Andi comes bursting in and tells her friends to take a look at this!

And they’re like, that’s a phone! And Andi’s like, oh.

The point is not the phone, it’s what was once on the phone: words. And those words tell the story of a clothing store called Mint Chip which burns all the clothes they don’t sell.

The gang enter into a long discussion about capitalism and branding which I don’t understand because I got a C- in my Econ 101 class.

Then Buffy says Mint Chip burned $35 million worth of clothes last year and everyone gets outraged.

Can I just play devil’s advocate here? Maybe they were burning it for warmth?

Buffy says there’s a way to settle this, and they all head to the Rage Cage to smash junk.

No, wait, I mean, they head to a junk cage to... rage smash? Shoot, I feel like I almost had something there.

Point is, the kids get in the dumpster. Buffy tries to but her foot betrays her. Wonder if this has to do with trying to run a marathon on nothing more than moxie.

She plays it off like not a big deal. She says she’s fine but I’m not so sure a-boot that.

Cyrus, now in the dumpster, finally asks if they’re allowed to be doing this.

Ignoring the trespassing charge? The crime is called garbage theft. It’s real. I know that because I got an A- in my Criminology 101 course. Feels like someone should’ve done a quick Google search to make sure they weren’t doing something illegal.

But I guess the time for Googling was before everyone got into the dumpster, because everyone just laughs off Cyrus’s suggestion that maybe they could get in trouble for this.

They find bags and bags of new clothes and wonder what to do with them. They all stare at Andi.

Because this was your thing! You made us care! You’re the reason we’re in the dumpster!

Andi says they all need to figure this out. It’s a group project. Then everyone gets real quiet and stares at one another and a few seconds later, Andi comes up with an entire plan by herself. Go team!

They return that night and steal all the clothes out of the dumpster and ride away with their treasures.

I like how they each got their own special vehicle for the job. Jonah’s got his skateboard. Andi has her quirky wagon. Buffy has a practical cart. Cyrus has an awkward wheelbarrow. Perfect.

Well, okay guys, you’ve committed a crime. A couple, actually. Trespassing and garbage theft, but I think you can still get away with this if you play it cool. I assume the next part of the plan is something low-key. Go around town making anonymous donations to thrift stores and shelters probably. Gets the clothes to people who need it, gives them a new home. Mission accomplished, right?

Oh, no? Not that? Put up a huge, extravagant public display in the middle of the sidewalk on the main street of town instead? Big ol’ gaudy signs saying where you took the clothes from? Large, colorful signs that scream “FREE TO TAKE”? Great idea! Nothing gathers more attention or raises more suspicion than big signs with the word FREE on it.

By the way, where is Mint Chip? Is it nearby? Within walking distance? Within seeing distance?

This is like newlywed bank robbers robbing a bank and their getaway vehicle is their wedding car with all the cans dangling off of it and big writing on the back window that says “JUST MARRIED! DAN AND TIFFANY JOHNSON”

This is like a guy throwing a brick through a department store window but wrapping his photo résumé around the brick. And when you unwrap the résumé it has his name and phone number and email address, and underneath “Special Skills” it says “Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, Doing Crimes”

This is like a kidnapper mailing the finger of the person he kidnapped to the police and putting his home address on the package in the return space.

I assume this is all to prove a point to Mint Chip but the way it’s executed, it just feels like they want to get arrested for doing crime.

This lady comes by and rubs her two brain cells together.

Very good question, lady! Why are these children giving away clothes free to whoever walks by? Why do all these pieces of clothing still have their tags on them, as if they were stolen? Why--

IS THAT A WINTER COAT?! NO MORE QUESTIONS!

Andi assures her she can have the coat and that’s good enough for her.

Andi meets back up with Cyrus and Buffy and they all delight in how nice it is to give people stuff that isn’t yours.

We get a fun montage here of the gang committing crime with smiles on their faces.

Jonah gives answers to three telepaths, who wordlessly asked him questions about the clothing.

Look at these criminals.

Laughing at what they’ve done. Thinking they’ve gotten away with it. Makes me sick.

Bex, meanwhile, arrives home to find Bowie and a package. It’s addressed to both of them and Bex realizes it’s a wedding present. Bowie jumps back like Bex just said the box was full of spiders.

They’re going to have to get one of those bomb disposal robots to come take care of this.

They decide to open it. They’ll return it but have to know who sent it first.

Bowie sees it’s from Celia. She sent it with a beautiful note. They open the box and pull out--

JESUS CHRIST!

An exact recreation of the proposal?! Down to the clothing, hair, and camera angle? How in the world?! I mean, really? Even if they described the scenario to her, HOW?! She even placed the pillows on the couch exactly as they were on the night!

The level of detail on this is haunting.

She even put in the Cat!

This was a really cute idea that’s just unsettling in its execution. This is a supernatural occurrence. This is the kind of thing someone stumbles upon in the attic of spooky house and realizes it contains the trapped the souls of these people inside of it. If you hold your ear to it, you can hear them faintly shouting “Help! Get us out of here!”

Bex and Bowie are far more taken by this display than I am though. Bex gets emotional. She goes to get the Thank You note stationary Celia gave her. Bowie gives her some space to write a message.

Back at the pop-up crime scene, Cyrus approaches Buffy with a shirt. He wants to give it to TJ.

He texts TJ a picture of it. Cyrus hopes TJ will like him it. Buffy asks why not just give it to him, but Cyrus says he’s not sure how much he’d want him it. Buffy’s like, he wouldn’t want a free shirt? Cyrus is like, I don’t know if he’s gay he’d like me giving him a free shirt.

Buffy figures it out. She’s like, you know how you can find out if he’s into you he wants a free shirt? Go for it Give him the shirt. Maybe it’ll mean something to him, or maybe it won’t, but either way it’s a nice thing to do. Cyrus agrees.

TJ texts back at that moment.

No, he gives the shirt a thumbs up. Cyrus invites him to the crime show he and his friends are putting on, but TJ tells him he’s at the park.

Cyrus wonders what that means. Buffy tells him it’s that he wants to meet him. Cyrus waffles on whether to bring the shirt.

Yeah, I mean, the shirt’s a thing now, you gotta bring the shirt.

At the park, Kira wants to know who TJ’s texting with. He tells her no one and suggests they go feed the ducks. Kira suggests they go on the swings first. TJ’s like, are you sure I can’t interest you in some ducks? But she wants to swing.

TJ resists but Kira persists. She taunts him that he can’t swing as high as she can. That works, somehow.

Guess his competitive spirit is such that all you have to do to get him to do something is say he can’t.

“I don’t want to give you a piggyback.”

“Why, ‘cause you can’t?”

“Get on my back! But I swear I’m not getting on the swings.”

“Because you don’t know how to swing?”

“Get out of my way, I’m getting on them swings!”

Boy, if either Reed or Lester had figured out this weak spot, they could’ve just said “Bet you can’t not say anything to the police about this gun, chicken!” and they’d be running free somewhere right now instead of locked up in supermax.

So TJ gets on the swings, just in time for Cyrus to come walking by and see.

Heartbroken at seeing his crush being heterosexual in public, Cyrus takes his shirt and does a sad Charlie Brown walk away.

He looks back first though.

Which, as we know, indicates he likes TJ, though it feels kinda superfluous because it’s following an episode where he was watching TJ from afar, being jealous that TJ was hanging out with someone else, and getting TJ a gift for no reason other than he thought it would look good with his eyes. Yeah, man, we get it. You like TJ.

Cyrus returns to the theft shop. Buffy asks him what happened and he tells her he found TJ with Kira.

Buffy promises him it won’t last, but Cyrus is like even if it does... he’s still straight, though.

Buffy asks him what he’s going to do with the shirt. Cyrus decides to give it to the last straight boy he crushed over. He asks Jonah if he wants it.

I know that this is more to complete a metaphor of sorts, but Jonah has to know that’s one of the shirts they pulled out of the dumpster, right? He’s like, oh, this is awesome, where’d you get it? The trashcan, Jonah. With you. Last night. We’ve been giving them away all day. There’s eight more over there on the rack.

Andi shows up and is like, it’s weird no one got mad at us for this whole thing, right? And Jonah’s like, oh yeah, someone came by and asked a lot of questions about it and I told her everything!

They’re like, no, you shouldn’t have done that. Which, I mean, yeah. He needs to keep his mouth shut. That’s the first rule of crime doing. But in fairness to him, what was this plan anyway? If someone came around asking, what answers were they planning on giving that wouldn’t implicate them in wrongdoing?

They don’t have time to think about that because a cop shows up. Andi tells everyone to stay calm, because they didn’t do anything wrong, but Buffy’s like, we might have. Bet we feel foolish we didn’t stop for a quick Google before all this, huh?

Officer Penn, a.k.a. Budget Clint Eastwood, wants to see their permit, but they say they’re not selling anything, so no permit necessary. Budget Clint Eastwood then tears through their legal arguments fairly quickly.

They say Mint Chip is a store that destroys the clothes they don’t sell and if you really think about it, isn’t that the real crime?

No. No, it’s not. Garbage theft is the real crime. Garbage theft. Officer Penn hauls four children off to jail.

Vivian the Winter Coat Lady, meanwhile, walks into Cloud 10 to look around. Celia compliments her winter coat. Vivian thanks her, saying she just got it under mysterious circumstances, but didn’t bother asking any questions.

In fact, all she really wants to do is go back and get more clothes under mysterious circumstances.

Bex pulls Celia over and tells her she loved the wedding present. She gives her an envelope full of thank you notes she started and stopped because she couldn’t put into words all her feelings.

But Celia is still pretty cold about all this. Bex wants to know how long it’ll take to be forgiven.

Can I knock it down to two if I run some errands for you? Take you to the airport or something?

Bex’s phone buzzes. It’s someone calling from jail, telling her they have her daughter. Bex panics. Celia steps up.

Looks like Andi’s going to have to bring them back together once again. They head off for jail.

The episode ends and then we get a sneak peek at the main title sequence of the spinoff show featuring the Good Hair Crew and Jonah in prison.

Andi Mack: Lockup, coming this fall.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Kira #Vivian the Winter Coat Lady #Officer Penn #episode recaps

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xsixxx · 5 years

Text

Bad Influence, Chapter Seven

Authors Note: Sorry I’m so bad at trying to get these out quickly, I’m working on it, I swear! This is a pretty long one for me & it’s deep so sorry if it’s a little bit boring! Once again, I’ve finished this at 5am so if there are mistakes/it’s incoherent I’m sorry, I’ll proof read it when I wake up 😂 Feedback always welcome!

Warnings: Language, super duper angsty, bit of childhood trauma, Beth & Nikki up to their usual shit

Tags: @triplehaitches @freddiessmallnipples @queen-crue @scarecrowmax @lovesick-heart0 @littlesunnymoon @80sheart-strings @cranberribread @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @deaconsroger @zoenicoles @crazysaladchopshop @ggorehorror @lunamadhatter99 @justtryingtoovercome @chaoticvybe @you-know-im-a-dreamer @eightiesrockbaby @valentines-in-london @xrosegoldwolfx @fupatroopaa @lilypetite88 @this-blog-must-be-the-place @ashleecrue @lauravic @dark-princess99

(There’s like no appropriate gif for this I swear so just enjoy one of Nikki looking cute)

(P.s as much as I love Douglas Booth & I will use The Dirt gifs, I fully picture actual Nikki when I write this, just for a little context 👏🏼)

*Nikkis POV*

“So what do you say?”

Beth looked hesisitant, but she couldn’t hide the excitement that danced in her eyes as my question lingered in the fraction of a space between our lips. I couldn’t stop the smirk from creeping across my face as I sensed her self control slip for just a moment, her eyes darting to my lips. I could see her wrestling with that darker side of herself that wanted to give in & surrender herself to me

She bit her lip in a poor attempt at self-discipline & her doey brown eyes fixed back on mine with a look of delicious purity that made my leather pants a little tighter.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her so badly.

But I wouldn’t give in, that was the point. It had to be all her.

Beth knew I was bad for her. As she stood there in front of me, I could tell that every logical part of her brain was screaming at her to walk away, to slap me, to yell at me, to do something to keep me away. She knew I was a bad guy, she’d witnessed it firsthand when I fucked that delectably naive little sister of hers & yet, here she stood, visibly battling with her temptation, a breath away from relinquishing her self control & throwing herself at me. She wanted to do something bad for the first time in her life, just to see how good it felt. And damn, I’d make her feel good.

I wanted to prove that I was right, all those many months ago when I first laid eyes upon her elitist, yet enticing self in that diner; that even good, smart girls like Beth could fall from Grace if they were tempted with the right promises. And she was so close to falling, balancing so delicately on the edge I’d lead her up to. But I wasn’t going to push her, I wanted to watch her jump.

But she took a step back; both from the edge & from me. A dark, confident smirk, not too dissimilar from my own, spread across her dainty features, as she found her self-control firmly back in her grasp. She ran her tongue over her lower lip before pulling it back in between her teeth & biting down on it, knowing full well how good she looked doing it & her voice when she spoke was calm & sultry, velvety smooth with a slight edge. In that moment, she had emulated everything that she hated about me & I couldn’t help but smile.

“I say thank you, but no.” She smirked, raidiating arrogance. “I know what you’re trying to do Nikki.”

“And what is it I’m trying to do, little Angel?” I asked, feigning innocence as best I could.

“I know you’re being the devil on my shoulder, trying to tempt me. And damn, your promises make me wanna sin Nikki,” she paused as she took a second to look me up & down, a gleam of desire in those eyes, “Fuck, they really do.” She confessed. “But I’m sorry, I’m just not one of those girls.”

I let a low chuckle. “Beth, I just watched you cum in the bathroom of your work whilst being fucked by the lead singer of my band not 10 minutes ago.”

She scowled at me, her eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. “I can have casual sex without being one of those girls,” she nodded behind me & I turned to see a a couple of giggling girls at the bar, sipping drinks & trying to catch my attention, flashing flirty smiles my way as they caught me eye. I’d definitely fucked the one. Maybe both. I couldn’t quite recall. “I’m allowed to enjoy sex Nikki, just because it’s with Vince doesn’t make me a groupie. I’m not sleeping with him because he’s in your precious band, I’m sleeping with him because it’s fun & a girl has needs.” She shrugged, defensively.

“So how come you won’t let me satisfy those needs for you, if it doesn’t mean anything?” I grinned.

“Because Sixx, you’re not a good guy & nothing with you could ever just be simple. Look at how you hurt my sister, for Christ sake.” Beth sighed, completely in control once again, shutting off to my deviant corruption. “You’re trying to play a game with me that I’m just not interested in playing, ok?”

“You’re only not interested in my game because you’re shutting yourself off from the side of you that would enjoy playing with me.” I pushed, flashing her a wicked smile, hoping I could pull her back into our little sexually charged exchange, but I could sense from the look that she gave me that the moment was over.

Beth sighed deeply, a look of exhaustion & confliction mixed into her delicate features. Her eyes, full of pain I didn’t understand, met mine one last time before she turned away.

“Goodnight Sixx.”

*Beths POV*

I knocked on the large oak front door & tapped my foot nervously as I waited for an answer, a large sponge cake balanced on top of 2 boxes, wrapped in bright blue wrapping paper that had “happy birthday!” garishly printed all over it.

My heart skipped a beat as I saw my little sisters face emerge from behind the door. Between me moving out & Maddie starting college, we hardly saw anything of each other & I’d missed her more than I’d realised. A wide grin spread across her face as she flung out her arms & ran to me, throwing them around my neck as she hugged me tightly, causing the precariously balanced cake to wobble dangerously.

“Watch it!” I chuckled, pulling away from her grip to catch the cake before it fell. I looked at Maddie, her eyes bright & brimming with tears. “Are you crying?!” I exclaimed.

“I’ve just really fucking missed you Beth!” She laughed, wiping the tears away.

“Madeline, language.” Came the gruff, sharp voice of my father who appeared in the doorway.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” I grinned at the sight of him & walked through the door & putting down the boxes to give him a hug. He pulled me in warmly & I suddenly felt like a kid again, wrapped up safely in the arms of my father & my nerves melted away. He stepped back & looked me up & down, frowning slightly. I blushed, pulling at the hem of my tshirt, my nerves flaring up once again. I’d dressed as conservatively as possible, knowing dad would have something to say if he caught on to my current lifestyle of rockstars, whiskey & the occasional line of cocaine.

“What?” I asked, flustered.

My dad shook his head, his frown disappearing & replaced with a friendly, but cautious smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just thought something just seemed a little different about you, but its nothing.” He finished, sounding unsure before gesturing for us to move into the living room.

I sat down awkwardly on the same beat up sofa that me & Maddie used to build forts on when we were kids & looked around the room. My eyes scanned all the knick knacks & framed photographs that I’d seen a million times over the years & yet, the time away made it feel like I was seeing them through the eyes of an outsider, taking in every detail for the first time. The fireplace was littered with old photos of us as kids, at the beach or playing in the backyard; the faded smiles of a happy childhood. Dust was gathering on the out dated ornaments that were scattered on the various cabinets and coffee tables around the room & the floral wallpaper was looking washed out & old. I glanced across at the table that sat next to me & saw a familiar, heart-wrenching smile that immediately gave me a lump in my throat, too big to swallow.

My mothers kind eyes looked up at me from the ornate framed picture whilst my own instinctively filled with tears. I picked up the photo & gently rubbed my thumb over her face, only wishing I could feel her skin underneath my touch, rather than the cold glass, reminding me that I never would again. I blinked away the tears as I returned the photo back to its prized place on the table, looking back around the living room in search of a distraction. The decor hadn’t changed once in the 10 years since my mom died, almost as if my father was trying to honour her memory by keeping her furniture & trinkets in the same place she had once carefully picked for them. He was treasuring her belongings as she once had, rather than letting them, & her, go.

He tried to do something similar with me & Mads, I thought to myself.

“How’re you doing Daddy?” I asked, suddenly painfully aware of my father now living alone in this unintentional shrine of a house.

“Oh you know, its quiet since you pair left, but I’m coping.” He said, giving us a forced smile. “What about you, are you still working in that hellish bar?”

I rolled my eyes at his judgement & disapproval, it never took long. “Yes Daddy, it pays the rent, remember?”

“I know, I know, I just hate the thought of you working in that sort of environment, surrounded by those kinds of people.” He huffed, shaking his head at the idea of me in the exact situation I was currently in. But I was the sensible one, there’s no way in his worst, most invasive thought, my dad could imagine me heading down the path I was currently on. Hell, I couldn’t believe it sometimes.

But I was still in control & that was the important thing. I knew my limits. No more than a couple of drinks & no getting drunk. No more than a couple of lines of coke & definitely nothing harder than that. No letting the party interfere with my studies or my work. And, my most important rule, no matter how tempted I might be or no matter how fun he might seem, absolutely no Nikki Sixx.

“Dad, I promise, I’m always careful & besides, it’s not as bad as you think.” I shrugged, attempting to downplay his concern. “Anyway,” I said standing up & retrieving his presents & cake from the hall, “let’s stop focusing on me, open up, birthday boy!”

Later

Me & Maddie stood around the block from our childhood home, well out of sight of our fathers overbearing eyes, as we both took a break from his constant paranoid questions about our lives away from home & took long, well-needed drags on our cigarettes. We’d bought ourselves 10 minutes, under the guise that we were walking to the convenience store for some milk, which bought us enough time to burn down our cigarettes & cover the smell by dousing ourselves in cheap but powerful body spray.

“I still can’t believe you’re smoking!” Maddie giggled. “It’s like watching a nun flashing or something!”

I choked slightly as I exhaled, the laugh catching in my throat as her comparison took me by surprise. “Gee, thanks!” I chuckled sarcastically.

“You know what I mean! It’s just you, my smart, goody-two-shoes big sister, is breaking one of Daddy’s golden rules, it bizarre.”

I scoffed at her. “I’m not that bad. I’m not as clean cut as everyone thinks I am.”

“Yeah right! Don’t you remember that night a couple years back when we went to see Mötley Crüe & you saw me smoking for the first time & went crazy at me?” Maddie cackled at the memory. “Oh god & then how you reacted when I went over to speak to them in that diner? You nearly had a heart attack! Fuck, I can’t believe how fast that time has gone!” She sighed contently, breathing out smoke into the brisk evening air. “Do you still see them occasionally at work?”

I took a long drag on my cigerette, drawing it out purposely as I tried to think of a way to answer. I hadn’t told Mads about my partying, or my 6 month on/off fling with Vince or even the fact that I hung around with Mötley at all. I told myself it was partly because I barely saw her & I hadn’t had chance & partly because I didn’t want to upset her, thinking that she’d feel betrayed by her sister socialising with the guy that screwed her over & embarrassed her in front of his band mates. But, if I was being honest with myself, it was more to do with the fact that I wanted to keep this part of my life separate from my messy homelife.

I settled on a simple, vague answer. “Every now & then, they play shows sometimes & say hi.” I shrugged, avoiding eye contact as I brought my cigerette back up to my lips.

“They talk to you?” Maddie quizzed, her eyes bulging with intrigue. “What do they say? Do you speak to Nikki?!”

Fuck, why did I say that last bit?!

I mentally cursed myself for not being vague enough as I searched for a response that could end the conversation. “Erm, they don’t really say much, just a polite hi & bye sort of thing. I haven’t spoke to Nikki though & I wouldn’t want to either, not after everything.” I babbled, flushing red as I attempted to lie, praying that Maddie wouldn’t probe anymore.

“Oh ok..” She sounded almost disappointed. But her eyes caught sight of my burning face. “Why are you blushing? What are you not telling me?!”

“N-nothing.” I stammered, smiling weakly, knowing just how bad I was at lying.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking him, aren’t you?!” Maddie yelled, a mixture of shock & annoyance in her voice. I blushed harder.

Fuck. She knew me too well. “What are you talking about?!”

“You! You’re sleeping with Nikki fucking Sixx, aren’t you?!”

I almost laughed out loud as relief & amusement fell over me like a comforting blanket, the prickling hot panic dying down as I realised sleeping with Vince wouldn’t be half as shocking to Maddie if she already thought I was having sex with that egotistical jackass.

“Oh god no! Maddie, I would never sleep with Nikki!” I laughed. Her face softened as she heard the sincerity in my voice, knowing I could never lie that convincingly.

“So what’s going on?!” She demanded.

“Oh, well um..” I stammered once again, suddenly nervous & awkward to admit the truth to her. “Me & Soph yanno, we hang out with them every now & then. Sophia has slept with Tommy a few times, but nothing major.”

Maddie looked suspicious & concerned. “Just be careful Beth, they’re not good guys, you & I both know this.”

“They’re not all bad. I mean, they’ve got a bad reputation but they’re not really bad guys-”

She cut me off, angrily. “Are you seriously defending them? After what Nikki did to me?!”

“No, of course not- I mean Nikki is, well yanno, he’s Nikki, he’s not the best.. But the rest of them, they’re nice guys- Vince is..” I stumbled, desperately wishing I could just go back 5 minutes & answer Maddies original question with a simple ‘no, I never see Mötley Crüe at work’.

“Oh, so it’s Vince that you’re fucking?!” She asked, cuttingly, raising her perfectly arched eyebrow judgingly.

“Yes” I answered instinctively, before realising. “No. Well, I mean- I have, but that’s got nothing to do with it!” I shouted, flustered & suddenly angry. “What are you getting so annoyed at me for?!” I deflected.

“Why?! Because you’re hanging out with the guys that humiliated me & you’re clearly acting like it never happened!”

“That’s not true! And it wasn’t the guys that humiliated you, it was Nikki & I can’t stand the guy! I even said to him the other night about how much he hurt you-“ But Maddie cut me off once again, shooting me a filthy look.

“How dare you?! How dare you speak to him about how he made me feel!” She began screaming. “That asshole doesn’t deserve to know that he took up one single second of my headspace after I stormed out of that gig, let alone know that he hurt me! I cannot believe that you would share something like that with him, you had no fucking right Beth.” She flicked her cigerette angrily on the floor as she turned & marched in the direction of home.

“Mads, come on, wait up!” I shouted as I ran after her.

“You keep my fucking name out of your goddamn mouth when you’re around that band, do you hear me, you fucking groupie?!” She hissed as she stomped away.

I stood still, shocked, wounded by her words. She’d never spoken to me like that before. I slowed my pace, not bothering to try & catch up as I followed her back home.

•••

I heard shouting as I walked up to the slightly ajar front door. My dads deep, sharp voice cutting though Maddies angry, whiny one.

“You’re in my house, you follow my rules, you know this by now!” He bellowed.

“I don’t live at home anymore, I’m 20 for Christ sake Dad, when are you going to loosen the fucking reigns?!” I winced at the sound of Maddie swearing at our father, knowing he would not take kindly to it.

“You do not speak to me like that, young lady! I am your father, you show me some respect!” He roared, angrier than I’d ever heard him.

I timidly walked through the door, hoping to calm the situation, whatever it was.

“Well you best start screaming at Elizabeth too, because she was doing it as well!” Maddie yelled, pointing at me as I pushed the front door to behind me, hoping to keep from peaking the neighbours interest.

My father let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s typical of you Madeline, trying to shift the blame on to your sister. She’s the responsible one, you really expect me to believe she was smoking too?!”

Shit. We forgot to cover our tracks.

“You’re fucking kidding me with this Miss Perfect shit, right?” Maddie said, laughing without amusement. “Do you know what your precious daughter has been up to recently?!” I held my breathe, my eyes pleading with her to stop. Through all of our sisterly fights, through our our difficult teenage years, we’d never once had a real fight & we’d never once turned on each other.

“She’s been smoking, drinking, fucking a rock band & no doubt doing their drugs too!” Maddie spat smugly, turning to smirk at me with eyes full of anger.

I felt a rage burn inside me as my father gave me a look of disbelief, which soon changed to disappointment & then pure anger. Maddies disloyalty & smug face pushed me over the edge & I snapped. “Well you’d fucking know!” I shot back snidely. “You fucked one of them first. That probably explains how you know they’re quite fond of sharing their drugs, huh Mads?”

“Enough!” My father thundered. “Drugs?! Did you lean nothing from your mothers death?! How could you be so goddamn irresponsible, knowing what you know?! Have I taught you nothing?!”

My fury had been released & there was no keeping it in now. I glared at my dad, my anger spilling over in his direction. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent 10 years treating us like prisoners, never letting us out, never letting us experience anything, we wouldn’t be so desperate to try & figure the world out for ourselves the second we left your damn tyranny.”

My father looked taken aback, hurt. I felt regret almost instantaneously.

“You know that everything I did was to protect you.”

“Yes dad, we know, but you can’t protect us from real life.” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. I didn’t mean to say it, but it was out there now, the truth I’d always felt but refused to acknowledge. It was out & I couldn’t take it back.

His face hardened, like I’d never seen before & it struck fear into my soul.

“If you want real life experiences, go & have them, but know that whilst you act this way, whilst you blatantly disrespect my wishes & insult your mothers memory, you are no daughters of mine.” He said, coldly. “Now get out, both of you.”

Later

I slammed the door to our one bed apartment shut behind me, relieved to be back in my own home though m still shaking with unspent emotion.

I headed towards the room I shared with Sophia, praying she was out so I didn’t have to deal with her questions & I could just climb into bed & sleep off the negativity of this whole day.

As my hand reached for the door handle of the closed bedroom door, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Sophia & Tommy, going at it &, knowing them, it wasn’t going to be a quick thing either. I groaned out loud, hoping they’d hear my annoyance, before I turned & headed back towards the living room. Flopping down on the sofa, I spotted one of my psych books lying on the coffee table with a hot pink sticky note attached to it:

The theory of human motivation, get to it babe, it’s due Monday. - S ♡

“Fuck.” I whispered, realising it was now 10pm on Sunday & I hadn’t even started.

“Could this day get any fucking worse?” I complained aloud to myself as I picked up the textbook & note pad Soph had thoughtfully left beside it.

“What an apt moment to make my entrance.” Nikki chuckled darkly, causing me to jump a mile & let out a girlish squeal, as he emerged from the kitchen.

“You fucking idiot, Sixx!” I screamed, throwing a pillow in his direction, ducking just in time for it to miss his amused expression. “You scared the shit outta me, dick!” I panted, holding my heart. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Well, apparently Tommy needed to pick something up from Sophia, so I came here with him & he went into the bedroom to get it. That was half an hour ago & he’s yet to come back out, so I made myself at home.” He smiled, taking a bite out of the sandwich I hadn’t noticed him holding. “You only had wholemeal bread though.” He said, pulling a face of disgust between bites.

I scowled at him, shaking my head, not having the energy to rise to his bait tonight. He was obviously disappointed.

“What’s wrong Princess?” He smirked, “Still not ready to play with me?”

“Nikki, please. It’s been a hard day & I’ve got a paper to write by 9am tomorrow morning. Just please, please not tonight, I can’t deal with your games right now.” I pleaded, feeling the tears involuntarily fill my eyes as the true level of my metal & physical exhaustion hit me like a train. I wiped them away quickly, praying Nikki hadn’t noticed.

“Are- Um, are you, yanno, ok?” He mumbled awkwardly, moving towards the sofa, trying to judge whether or not it was safe to sit down next to me.

“I’m fine,” I sniffed, turning my face away from him as he made the decision to sit. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, if you wouldn’t mind.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong & sure, not ready to show weakness in front of the man that I knew was capable of manipulating it if he felt like it.

“Do y- Ahem” he coughed awkwardly, pretending to clear his throat, “do you wanna talk about it?”

I let out a small, weak laugh, bringing my eyes back to meet his. He looked uncomfortable, fidgeting as he attempted to offer me some level of comfort. I couldn’t help but smile at his effort, no matter what his intentions behind it were. “No Sixx, I really don’t. But, um, thanks.”

He nodded, visibly uncomfortable. “So, uh, what’s your paper about?” He asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

“The theory of human motivation.”

“Ah ok, so like what drives people?” Nikki inquired thoughtfully, perking up a little.

“Sort of.. Well, have you ever heard of Maslows hierarchy of needs?” Nikki shook his head but looked intrigued, so I continued. “So, according to this psychologist, there are 5 levels of human needs & you have to attend to the lower levels before you can satisfy the levels higher up. So, for example, level 1 is your basic needs, food, water etc. You need those in order to attend to level 2, which is security, safety. It continues up to love & relationships, then self esteem & then self actualisation, achieving ones dreams essentially. That’s the top tier, the end goal.”

“Ok yeah, I get it. I’m down for the first level, I mean obviously I gotta survive, but I don’t need security or love or that shit to achieve my goal.” Nikki laughed. “I think this Maslow guy needs to met someone like me. Growing up without love & stability only made me more determined.”

“Well yeah, it made you more determined because you’re unknowingly seeking that love & security through your music & your band. You’re hoping your career will provide you with the security you never had & that your fans will provide you with the love. Every human falls into the model, one way or another.” I shrugged, smirking at his dumbfounded expression.

“Ok little miss psychologist, being as you clearly know me so well, analyse me.” Nikki sniggered.

I shook my head, “it doesn’t work like that. But,” I continued as inspiration struck me, “I could use you as the subject for my paper, I think you’d make an interesting case, with your inflated sense of ego & all.”

Nikki flashed his usual, arrogant smirk. “Well, doesnt sound like Tommy is gonna be done any time soon. Ok, you’ve got yourself a test subject, Princess.” He winked.

“Ok, lets do this properly. No messing around, I need to you answer my questions as best you can Sixx, promise?” I raised my eyebrows at his wide grin.

“I promise I’ll try.” He responded, raising his hand mockingly.

I grabbed my notepad & pen & began scribbling down some notes to start me off.

After a couple of minutes of writing, I looked up. Nikki was sat patiently, lighting a cigerette & gazing off to the side, lost in thought. The sight of him sent my stomach into freefall as I took that moment to appreciate his features, his strong jawline & thoughtful eyes. He caught me staring & his eyes shone with mischief as he grinned once again, shattering my vision of this deep, soulful artist. I laughed at my own foolish thought that Nikki Sixx was anything more than he appeared to be at face value. He proved that with his answer to my first question.

“Ok, So Nikki Sixx, tell me what it is that you do.”

“What do I do?” He asked, that roguish gleam in his eyes twinkling as gave me that troublesome smirk once again. “Oh, I do bad things.” He answered.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea.” I snapped, slamming my notepad shut with exasperation. “I should’ve figured you weren’t capable of taking anything seriously.”

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry, I’ll be sensible.” He laughed. “I am the creator & bassist of a rock band called Mötley Crüe.”

I gave him a stern, warning look before continuing. “And tell me, what lead you to peruse a career in music?”

“Music was the one constant thing throughout my childhood & teenage years. It cut through the boredom & the bullshit in my life. It inspired me.” He said simply, but passionately. I brought my eyes up from the notepad to look at him, his eyes truly thoughtful this time as I imagined him reminiscing about the first album he’d ever bought or the first time he held a bass. Whatever he was remembering, it tugged at the corners of his lips as a genuine smile appeared on his face, taking the place of his usual smirk. I couldn’t help but smile along with him, taking in his beauty & serenity in that moment.

“So, ahem”, I coughed, bringing myself back to reality, “What was music an escape from? What lead you to feel so passionately about it?”

“I had a shitty upbringing.” He said bluntly. “My dad split when I was 3 & it was obvious that I was just a burden to my mom. Whenever I got in the way of her lifestyle, she’d ship me off to my grandparents who constantly moved around. And when she did want me, I was just a punching bag for her asshole boyfriends.”

“Nikki, I’m sorry, I had no idea..” I trailed off.

“It’s fine Princess, it is what it is.” He shrugged, but I sensed he wasn’t as ok with it as he was making out. “So when I found music, it was suddenly like ‘this is it, this is what I’ve been looking for’, it just made sense to me & I’ve been infatuated ever since.”

“Sixx, look, we don’t have to do this, I didn’t realise that this went as deep as it does, I don’t wanna intrude..”

“It’s ok. It must be hard to imagine broken families when you’re not from one.” Nikki responded a little sharply, his presumption catching me off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“No, I just meant that when you have a stable family, it must be hard to imagine that some parents don’t love or want their kids, yanno?”

I laughed humourlessly at his false premise. “Trust me, there is nothing stable about my family.”

“Oh come on Beth. You’re telling me that you, the well educated Daddy’s girl from the good neighbourhood, had a rough childhood, really?” Nikki scoffed, rolling his eyes.

I snapped, growing tiresome of his stereotypical opinion of me. “You don’t know the first thing about me Sixx, stop pretending that you do.”

“Kind I’d like how you didn’t know the first thing about me until 5 minutes ago? Yet, you’ve always made your judgements on my attitude & my lifestyle. I’m just returning the favour doll.” He replied, raising his eyebrow pointedly.

I sighed, resigning to his annoyingly accurate point. “Ok fine. Not that I owe you any explanation,” I started, looking anywhere in the room but at those piercing eyes that were focused so intently on me. “My mom OD’d when I was 13. She was prescribed painkillers after a car accident & she just never came off them.”

“Fuck.” Nikki whispered. “Doll, I’m sorry.”

I shook my head as I felt the tears prick in my eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “Our dad wrapped me & Maddie up in bubble wrap after that & made us fearful of the world. He took us out of school & homeschooled us, never really let us socialise, we never got to go out & see our friends, he all but kept us locked up.” I sighed, thinking back to the harsh words I’d said to my father earlier on that day, the regret & guilt flooding back & overwhelming me once again. “I know he was doing what he thought was best, keeping us safe & protected from anything or anyone that could harm us or influence us.”

“Someone like me?” Nikki teased, trying to lighten the mood.

I let out a soft giggle. “Exactly.”

Nikki gently placed his hand under my chin, lifting my head up fractionally so that my eyes met his. His gaze drifted to my cheek as a lone tear fell silently down it. His grazed his thumb softly against my skin, wiping it away with a simple caress that sent shivers through my body. I felt weak under his touch. That same touch that had once set fire to my mind did so once more & I instantly craved him all over again.

“Who knew you could be a good guy when you wanted to be?” I whispered as his thumb trailed from my cheek to my lips, his eyes fixated on them.

“I’m the devil Lizzy, remember?” He muttered back, restraint evident in this voice. “I’m not a good guy.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anywhere. Trust me, I know.” I breathed, leaning in to him & letting my lips brush his, using his own trick against him. “Kiss me, Sixx.” I whispered.

“You don’t want this, Angel.” He warned gently.

“And how do you know what I want?”

His brow furrowed, confliction obvious in his dark green eyes. “You’re upset & you’ve had a bad day. This isn’t you & as much as I want you, I don’t want you this way, you’re not thinking clearly.” He sighed.

“Fuck, Nikki, I can’t fucking win! So what, you only want me if I’m like all of those other groupies, drunk in a bar & throwing myself at you, is that it?” I snapped, moving away from him.

“No Beth, that’s not it.” He replied bluntly, running his hands through his messy hair. “But look, you’re emotional & vulnerable & I-“ he stumbled, unsure whether to continue. “I’m not the solution to your problem Beth ok, I’m not that kinda guy.”

I laughed sharply. “Wow, because I’m so insecure in myself that I must need you to comfort & validate me, right? Christ Nikki, it must be exhausting fanning your own fucking ego like that.”

“Why else would you be coming on to me now?!”

“Because for a second Nikki, you actually seemed like a decent guy, like maybe you actually had a heart. And for a fucking second, I didn’t despise you.” I laughed, bitterly. “Silly me!”

“But that’s just it Beth, you know I’m not a decent guy. I wanna fuck you, I mean Christ, you know I do. But I wanna make you feel bad, I wanna fulfil your darkest fantasies, I don’t wanna just be your comfort fuck, that’s just not what I do Beth, I’m sorry.” He muttered, shaking his head.

“How fucking dare you?!” I fumed, shoving his shoulder & standing up. “How dare you presume that I fucking need your comfort. I can take care of myself, Sixx, thanks.” I turned around, walking towards the kitchen, muttering to myself “God forbid I should just find him attractive for a fraction of a second & wanna act on it-”

I heard Nikki stand up & I spun round to give him more of my mind, but he was quick & I was suddenly standing chest to chest with him, my face at the level of his neck & I caught his musky scent & I was momentarily intoxicated. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from imagining what it would be like to feel his skin under my lips as I placed kisses along his neck, nipping & sucking as I went. My mouth watered slightly at the thought.

“Ok Lizzy. Prove it.” Nikki tested, his forehead resting lazily on mine as I brought my eyes up to look at him. They were dark, yet I could sense the struggle & hesitance in them, along with the desire that I’d come to recognise so well.

“Prove what?” I asked stubbornly.

“That you want me. Prove me wrong, do something reckless & impulsive just because you know it’ll feel good. Make that decision to jump.” He whispered, his breath brushing my face as his words & his eyes drew me in, pulling me down, under his spell.

Once again, he brought his lips to mine, allowing them to brush together, sending sparks of electricity & passion surging through my body, but he restrained from kissing me. He wanted me to be the one to do it. He wanted to be right.

Fuck, I wanted to prove him right.

“You’re the devil, Nikki Sixx.” I murmured softly.

He smirked against my lips, knowing he had finally won. “Angel, something tells me you can’t help but enjoy it.”

I tiptoed & titled my head up towards Nikki, closing the gap in between our lips, surrendering myself to him. My lips crashed on to his & immediately that fire that only he could ignite spread to every part of me. My mind, my body, my soul we’re all ablaze with the feeling of him. For the first time in years, I did something I knew I shouldn’t, for no other reason than because I simply wanted to. There was no hidden reason or agenda, I just wanted him.

No, I craved him. I wanted him to show me the darker side of myself he promised, I wanted him to show me what my body was made for.

He pressed himself against me, tasting me, wrapping his arms around my waist & pulling me in closer. I could feel that tantalisingly smirk against my lips, I could taste his arrogance & it only made me want him more. I buried my fingers into his hair, gripping with desperate ferocity as he picked me up & thrust me roughly onto the kitchen work surface, deepening his kiss, causing me to moan gently into his mouth.

Nikki groaned seductively, breaking the kiss. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you make that noise for me.” He breathed, his hands travelling up my body to cup my face, holding it roughly, forcing me to look into his hungry eyes. He studied for me a second as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, my body aching for his kiss.

“I knew I could make you fall from Grace.” He smirked. “We’re gonna have fun so much fun together, little Angel.” He grinned wickedly, letting go of my face but keeping his hand under my chin.

I smirked, a new found confidence washing over me as ran my hands through Nikkis disheveled hair & looked into those dark eyes.

I leaned in towards him, my soft lips grazing his lobe purposefully as I whispered proactively into his ear. “You have no idea what you’ve just started. Just because you won this round, doesn’t mean I’m gonna make this easy for you. When I’m through, even the devil is going to kneel before me.” I drawled, mimicking his arrogance before hopping off the work surface & walking away, leaving Nikki with his mouth open, desperate for more.

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zombiesun · 4 years

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The ones you didn’t answer?

I got halfway through these before deleting all of my answers which is a little big devastating ngl I had a lot of thoughtful responses typed out but!

tw: mentions of self-driven death (in the instance of a dream, will be including this tw in the tags as well – I don’t consider it suicidal because of the context but if you would like that tag, please lmn)

1: name a movie that makes you feel like a kid again

@treasureislandpdf and I bonded over treasure planet and hook being our childhood movies but to add onto that sky high and the emperor’s new groove

2: name your favorite flower

red roses </3

5: name somethings that make you immediately relax

carleta lying on my stomach and head butting me as I try to pet her, my sisters entering my space while they’re continuing a conversation they had on the drive over, night walks, the way he holds onto me when we haven’t seen each other in a long time, bone shaking bass, leverage, and a warm cup of tea

7. name a planet you would like to visit

io is a moon of jupiter (and not a planet) but it’s the most volcanically active world in the solar system. it has lakes of molten lava on its surface and sometimes the eruptions are so powerful you can observe them from Earth. some of the volcano rings are the size of California they pockmark the entire surface giving it it’s affectionate nickname as “the pizza faced moon”. it’s known as “a celestial being of ice and fire” because it has ice volcanos as well. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to watch them go off. imagine an entire world that’s nothing but eruption and chaos. when I die the first place I’m visiting is io.

10: name a dream that you wish you could experience again

I learned that if you die in a dream, you wake up at a very early age and have employed the technique ever since. I do not enjoy dreaming, mine are not beautiful or fantastical but rather mundane and cruel in a way that I don’t enjoy putting myself through. Originally, I was going to put the dream that made me realize that I could do this but even then, I don’t want to give my subconscious the idea that I’m asking for re-runs. Most of my nights I wake up without remembering anything, and on the off day that I do I try very hard to make sure those dreams don’t bleed into my day to day. I think that’s the reason I show up in so many other people’s dreams (and I get messaged at least once a week about showcasing in the dreams of people in varying connection with me) – I think I would like to observe myself in another person’s dream if I had to willingly experience one.

11: name your favorite sounds

his voice, my family laughing and telling each other stories, carleta purring or meowing as a way to be part of the conversation, rain on a roof, hang drums, wind chimes, evil noise music, public conversations, the rumble of transit, and the crunch of fall leaves

13: name the most recent time you’ve been happy

I’m happy every day. It is one blissful moment bleeding into the next, now the only thing that stands out when I run my fingers over the surface of my mind is the small divots of anxiety or grief instead of the rare instance of happiness. The last moment could have been receiving this ask, taking the last sip of my chai, flexing my feet against my meditation pillow, the knowledge that I’ll be seeing him in a few days, the way this song sounds. It’s all happy, every single moment of it.

14. name a small thing you do to make your day better.

I try to do yoga or the bare minimum stretch at least once a day. I’m a very flexible person because I have hyperextended joints and just the reminder that my body wants to listen to me and rewards me for the attention makes me feel happy and grounded.

17. name an emotion that seems unreal

anger that’s so powerful that I act physically upon it. it’s the only time in my life that I feel like I’d rather stop myself then go through with whatever my anger sick brain wants to do. I try very hard not to get angry in way that can be seen at people for various reasons, but it’s always the emotion that makes me feel like I’m watching myself outside of myself when I do express it.

19. name a mythical creature that you would love to meet

phoenix

20: name something that drives you

the fact that I know that I can and will accomplish what I am here to do.

22: name a feature that ideal you would have if there was no such thing as society’s expectations

fangs. I plan on either getting them sharpened or buying quality substitutes though so hopefully it’s a feature that future me will get to enjoy.

23: name a superpower that you wished to have as a child

fire! I was obsessed with the idea of creating and controlling fire I used to test it out on anything with a flame.

25: name a way that your friends/followers can make you feel better on bad days.

ask me questions! I don’t know how to feel comfortable interjecting my day to day life/reality into conversations without feeling dominating and will often take a back seat as a listener/observer/responder because I don’t know how to equally participate. questions make me feel like I have the consent of the other person to open up about myself in a way that isn’t unwelcome. my messages/ask box are always open I’m extroverted and no one scares or intimidates me enough to not want to have a deep conversation with them.

26: name something you long for.

the feeling I get when I’m helping multiple people move further on their life path, my family, and him

28: name something that makes you feel like yourself

when I’m walking alone somewhere at night holding a two sided conversation with myself, one earbud blaring whatever music fixes the itch, heading toward a nondescript destination while the entire universe seems to hum beneath my feet and I know that not only will I be well, but someday I might understand more than I do now

#mailbox #vb #long post #tw: death mention #tw: suicide mention #I'm going to add both just in case #anon...............you have no idea how excited I was when I got this in my inbox #answering these was so soothing and I learned a few things about myself #whoever you are: thank you for caring enough to be curious it means a lot #interview

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honey-bunches-of-nope13 · 4 years

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How would Team Rwby react with a s/o that is a dragon faunus that has a treasure hoard that contains things they consider treasures and one morning team Rwby wake up in the hoard instead of their bed and most of the treasures are things that they gave their s/o and basically the girls being in the hoard basically means that the s/o is saying that they are a treasure to them?

Holy shit! I finally wrote something! This is for Darkborn187′s birthday, so happy birthday, my friend! I know it’s about a day or two late, but I hope you don’t mind. I also hope this was close to what you were expecting from this ask.

It’s a fact that Dragon Faunus have a tendency to stash the things they treasure most away in the caves and hollow logs around their home for safe keeping. What each Dragon Faunus deems valuable enough to hoard varies and can tell you a lot about their personality. This hoarding is instinctual, but it can be resisted. The problem is, if they do resist this urge, they may end up stealing and hoarding things in their sleep. Well, one day the girls of team RWBY wake up in their S/Os’ treasure hoard with their S/O rather than in their bed. It seems that their S/O had stolen them away in their sleep. As they lie there in their S/O’s warm embrace, they take a moment to look around and see what sorts of things their S/O has deemed “valuable”. It quickly becomes clear that items in their “treasure” hoard consist mostly of the things that they had given their S/O, or things relating to their dates.

Ruby: Ruby wakes up with a sleepy yawn and tries to get up, but can’t because her S/O has a tight hold on her waist. It’s not an abnormal occurrence since a snuggle-bug like her naturally went after another snuggle-bug as a love interest. Knowing that there was no point in trying to get up until they come to, she snuggles back down and starts to doze off again. That is, until her sleep-addled brain finally woke up enough to recognize that something wasn’t quite right. Her eyes snap open and she realizes that she is not in her room or her S/O’s room; it’s darker here and the air feels damp and a little chilled on her face. She turns as much as she can to look behind her, sighing with relief when the person behind her does turn out to be her S/O and not some weirdo who whisked her away in the night. She is curious as to how she got there, but decides that it can wait until her S/O wakes up. She does take time to look around as much as she can in her current position. There’s a lot of stuff in this cave, or what she assumed to be a cave. There was the giant stuffed Ursa she had won for them at one of the game booths around the festival grounds (she’s really good at those shooting games), a pile of what seemed to be movie tickets in one corner of the cave where it would be safe from any water damage, several pictures adorning the walls (some of them both and some just of her. It seemed like there was at least one for every date they went on), the comic books she had given them, and so on. Ruby smiled at the fact that her S/O had kept all of these things and had used them to decorate their little “hide-out”; it was really sweet and super cute. She lets out a little giggle, which wakes her S/O. Her S/O yawns and sits up before looking around just as confused as Ruby had been and then blushing in embarrassment. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead” Ruby said and pecked them on the lips.

Weiss: Weiss grumbles in her sleepy state, trying and failing to get comfortable enough to drift off again. Her sleeping space is unusually lumpy and uneven, and something was digging into her side. When she eventually gives up and opens her eyes, she’s shocked to see that she isn’t in her room. From what she could tell, she was in some sort of underground cavern. It was dark, the air smelled like clay, and there were what appeared to be roots coming out of the ceiling. She looked down and saw that she was laying on a bed of moss; not the most sanitary thing, but it was better than the dirt in her opinion. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she started to be able to make out other things in the cavern. There were little ice themed knick knacks, a bouquet of excellently preserved white roses, and several small boxes stacked and piled all over the place. As she took everything in and tried to figure out just where she was and why she was there, she felt something crawl across her hand, making her jerk back and scream. Her deafening shriek caused her S/O, who had apparently been snoozing away beside them jump up and scream themselves. Once they both calmed down, Weiss demanded an explanation. She was mad at first because she hated being in such a dirty, insect ridden place, but her anger immediately dissipated when her S/O got to the part about them likely taking her there in their sleep was likely due to how much they treasured her; it was bound to happen sometime and would likely happen again. Weiss thought that was adorable and hugged her S/O tightly while complaining about their choice of hoard location. Their S/O laughed and promised to find a more suitable location in case this does happen again.

Blake: Blake wakes and is a bit disoriented at the unfamiliar surroundings. The dark room, cracked concrete walls and dingy floor were very different from what she should be seeing. Her heart leapt into her throat within milliseconds of her opening her eyes. Had she been taken? How and why? Who had taken her? Was it Adam? Her mind though all of these things at once and she started to panic. Then, she noticed the other presence in the room, a warm body curled up behind her. She turned her head slowly as possible so as to make as little noise as she could and to keep her movements from being detected by this other being. The car faunus breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the being behind her was her S/O and not some weirdo or one of her many enemies. Feeling more at ease knowing they were there with her, Blake sat up and began taking in her surroundings. There were plush black cats and empty cups from their favorite cafe all over the floor. What appeared to be books were stacked nearly to the ceiling in the far corner of the room. She got slowly crawled closer to the stack and was able to make out the titles of the books in the darkness thanks to her faunus heritage; they were all books that she remembered suggesting her S/O read, or books that they read together, or books her S/O had “borrowed” and she had never bothered to ask for back. Next to the books was a cardboard box, which Blake promptly but quietly opened. Inside were sheets upon sheets of paper covered in words; she quickly recognized both her hand writing and that of her S/O. She picked one up and realized that these were love letters. They often wrote each other cute little notes or long-winded letters professing their love for one another since it seemed to be much easier for them to write the words instead of verbalizing them. Well, for the most part. The papers that had her S/O’s handwriting were scribbled out or half finished. She recognized some of them were similar to ones she had been given by her S/O, just not as well written. Perhaps they were rough drafts? That would be ridiculous though! S/O didn’t even write rough drafts for massively important essays, so why would they do it with something so trivial? Also, what do all of these things have to do with each other and why were they here in the first place? Then, it all clicked in Blake’s mind. All of these things involved her. She then remembered that her S/O was a dragon faunus and that they are known to hoard things they deem valuable; she even knew about their occasional nocturnal kleptomania. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together then. She looked back over to her snoring S/O with a soft smile and an almost silent giggle before putting the papers back and gently closing the box. She then crawled back over to them and snuggled up to them to get a little more sleep. She was in the safest place she could ever be; in her dragon’s secret hoard.

Yang: Yang sleeps like the dead and that was something her prankster of a S/O took advantage of regularly, so she wasn’t super surprised when she woke up in an unfamiliar place again; she was just glad it wasn’t on an inflatable mattress in the middle of the school’s swimming pool this time. No, this time it was in a dark, windowless room and she was laying on a hard linoleum floor with what seemed to be a bedsheet over the top of it, and a plush blanket over the top of her. While not being able to see unnerved her, hearing the all too familiar snore of her S/O beside her kept her from getting freaked out. She slid out from under the blanket and stood up with a stretch before putting her arms out in front of her as she started feeling for the nearest wall. Once she found it, she moved along it until she found a light switch. Yang flopped on the light, temporarily blinding herself as her eyes adjusted to the sudden change. Once she could see again, she started to take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that an old set of her bedding was on the floor with her S/O snuggled up under it completely unbothered by the sudden brightness that filled the room; she had wondered where that bedding had gone. She then noticed that the tile on the floor and the blank white walls seemed familiar; they were somewhere in the school. A disused storage room perhaps? The old industrial shelves that normally would have held cleaning supplies or school equipment were crammed full of different items that seemed to have nothing to do with the school. Sure, there were some books, but they seemed more like photo albums rather than studying material. There were also plush animals and what looked to be articles of clothing. She pulled one balled up cloth from the shelf and found that it was the band t-shirt she had gotten her S/O on their first date, a concert for one of her favorite bands. She never saw them wearing it, so she had always wondered if they hadn’t liked it or if she had gotten them the wrong size. She put the shirt back haphazardly and pulled out another piece of cloth. It was one of her jackets that had gotten damaged by a particularly fierce Beowolf on a school field trip; she thought she had thrown that away. Another piece of cloth that she found crammed into the shelf was one of her bandanas that she normally kept tied on her leg. She had given one to her S/O because they seemed to like it so much, but she never saw them wearing it. She pulled one of the books off of the next shelf, and sure enough, they were photo albums. Every single picture in the album had something to do with her. She knew that her S/O was real shutter happy on dates, but she hadn’t realized they had taken enough to actually fill an album, and they had actually bothered to have them printed out to make said photo album! The next album was mostly pictures of her S/O’s family, including the time she had met them. She knew how much her S/O valued their family, and that they loved taking pictures of things they liked, so she was honored that she had gotten an album all to herself and that the album had been made with such care; her S/O had a real talent for scrapbooking! After looking at a few things, she realized that this must be her little dragon’s hoard of “treasures” and giggled. It was just so cute! She would no doubt use this as ammo to tease them with in the future.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss shnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #faunus #dragon #hoard #I did a thing #its about fucking time

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storylocke · 4 years

Text

The Light - Ch 1

[Virginia woke up to the sounds of some distorted mewling from beside her bed and glanced at the Meowth staring up at her. She knew she needed to get up, her mother would be angry if she didn't, but she didn't feel well and just wanted to stay in bed. Her head hurt, for one thing, and swam with conversations playing out, overlapping each other, as she continued to lay still and entertain these thoughts. But most of the stray thoughts kept coming back to the stray cat and she finally looked back at Looker.]

Virginia:

I'm guessing Mom sent you here to get me? [Heaves a sigh and goes to get up. Even if she'd taken nearly all night to get her cozy personal space all established after moving in, it was still jarring to wake up in a strange room nearly half a world away and know it was hers for good. She kneels down to pet the cat and gives him a smile.] I bet with all your travels, a new home is nothing. [Gets up and looks around, half admiring her work now that she was more awake to understand what she might have been thinking at the time.] Say… can I… ask you a question?

Looker:

[Blinks at her in curiosity] And what might that be?

Virginia:

[Somewhat dreamily goes over to the big Snorlax doll, giving it a squeeze so the voice box inside goes off. She smiles at it and continues on in a sleepy air as squeezes it a few more times] Oh, um… you ever get the feeling- this sort of rush- something big has happened but you're not even sure what it is? [Looks to him] Because if it was something big, you would have noticed it, right? Or maybe it's just the nerves to feel like maybe something's coming. Something has changed or will change or…

Mom:

[From the next room] Verge! Are you up yet?

Virginia:

Y-yes? I'm just, uh, getting dressed! Hang on! [Really she hadn't changed out of her clothes the night before, but rushes over to the mirror to at least get her hair decent]

Looker:

Speaking for me, or for yourself? I think it normal when starting the day in a new location that one might be brimming with excitement. Or nerves. [There's that bright grin of his again trying to give some sense of comfort. It quickly vanishes as they hear the door.] … [Ears perk at the muffled conversation outside as he approaches the door to listen in] Everything is new, but I can at least promise you won't find out what your gut is telling you if you stay in here.

Virginia:

Can't argue with that. [Winces] Did she seem to be in a good mood when you were out? [As he said, she might as well go find out. She steps out of the room to find her mother almost directly on the other side of the door and flinches.] Sorry…

Mom:

Sorry? It's bad enough I let you bring that Pokemon trash all the way from Hoenn, you should have left it. I bet you two were just goofing off in there, weren't you?

Virginia:

"Him" if um… if you don't mind…. [She lowers her gaze, not meaning to sound rude in correcting her.] S-sorry...

Mom:

Darling… [Runs her hands down the girl's arms as a sign of comfort before moving Virginia's face up to look at her.] What are you going to do if you over sleep at the Battle Agency? Think you can apologize to them?

Virginia:

No… but I don't think- [She's about to make the excuse of having jet lag, or exhaustion from the move, from her brain pounding right now, or staying up so late, but she knew any counter point would be only an excuse. It really is her fault for not settling an alarm.]

Mom:

Then I should hope you learn how to think between now and when the school opens. [Makes a pouty face almost mocking the sour look Virginia is giving.] Aww, don't be like that. School is fun! You could just as well stay there forever~! [smiles] You want to be top of your class, don't you?

Virginia:

O-of course! [Her mom lets go and starts moving towards the table to fix a sack lunch, which Virginia can't help but think strange to bag up anything if they were staying home. Takes a breath to get up the nerve to ask.] But I got my Trainer's License, remember? Right before we left, Professor Lillie…

Mom:

We got your license strictly for school. You'll be borrowing Pokemon from the Agency to train with. Remember, when I used to live here, I served as a Trial Guide! I helped hundreds of young boys and girls attempting to complete the island challenge, and let me tell you; a lot of them were not fit to be on their own.

Virginia:

I… I could practice? With Looker? We just arrived, the Battle Agency doesn't open for a few weeks, and I don't have any people I'm meeting today, so can't we take just one day to settle in?

Mom:

And it's that kind of logic that will keep you from becoming a top Agent. [She puts her hands on her hips and takes a moment to look Virginia over, almost sizing her up really. Coolly] I'll think on it. I have already been entrusted with a Pokemon for you from a certain someone you might know~!

Virginia:

[She feels it's a dumb question even before she asks, but she just had to.] Is it a cat?

Mom:

Hahahaha! [Turns back to her] Don't be so ridiculous. [She goes back to cutting up vegetables] And don't be getting any ideas either. You can't trade when you only have one Pokemon. You're Verge, aren't you? [Waves her head across the imaginary banner she can already see before her] With my help, you'll be making headlines in no time! [Coming down from that cloud, she goes to grab the phone and waves the girl off as she starts to dial.] Now why don't you go grab your day gear, and I have a surprise for you when you get back.

Virginia:

[Soft sigh as she was about ready to test if she could slip outside while her mother went on, but eventually just heads back to her room.] Just as I thought…. [She sits at the desk as she can already hear her mother on the phone probably with her dad the way the woman was cooing into the earpiece, but knowing him, if he had a Pokemon for her, he'd just ship it already in a ball and some little note. Thank you, Mr. Faba, indeed! Huffs. … softens. It'd been a long time since got to see him in person. Maybe a call that night would make her feel better.] This is all too sudden… [She spins the chair slightly to look at her notebook for school. Might as well try studying…]

Looker:

What exactly is too sudden?

Virginia:

[Oh hello there. Hadn't realized he followed her inside. Spins the chair slightly to look at him.] Do you think I'm being selfish?

Looker:

Who said anything about that?

Virginia:

She didn't say it, but…

Looker:

… [He takes a moment to calculate before hopping up on the desk to be more level with her.] Verge, I've been staying with you for the last three months, and I think it safe to say that it is she who has been the selfish one.

Virginia:

She just wants what's best for me. It feels wrong, but I almost wish something exciting would happen to change that. Like, I found that bottle on the beach, and when it talked about Alola, I thought it was some kind of sign that things would be different here. And maybe it will, I just need her to get me there. Couldn't you just see it? [Rises from her seat as she shares in her mother's wild imagination, waving her hand to command.] "Know what, Mom? I'm not letting you take all the good parts! I'm Captain now too, you know! Why not see if you're good enough to beat my trial!" … [She settles down a bit as she opens a drawer and pulls out a series of motes she kept hidden from her mother --talking about the Battle Agency, the fantasy of owning a Marshadow, about her rankings-- and finally finds the worn and water damaged page she'd buried like a treasure. There just seems something almost magical about finding a lost item, worn by time, and she holds the page so carefully as she reads over the lines again.] It's silly though, isn't it? I met you shortly after, and I'd never seen any talking Pokemon back home, but that doesn't mean I've discovered real magic.

Looker:

[Tucks a paw under his chin as he thinks on this long and hard] "Magic" is a very loose term, but I can assure you, it's… it's more common than you think. I'd say be careful of what you wish for, but, perhaps, it is too late for that.

Virginia:

[Brightens up] Really? You think so?

Looker:

[Nods] At the time we met, if memory serves me right, you wondered if hearing me was only your imagination as you had already been hearing "voices", correct? [She nods] Do you hear them now?

Virginia:

[Long pause as she tries to listen. She'd had so much already going through her brain, she hadn't really noticed the difference.] …. I think… yeah, I do. Something's telling me I should go grab my stuff to head outside. [Sinks a bit with a sheepish grin] But that could also just be Mom.

Looker:

Then, from my experience, perhaps my running into you was no mere happenstance.

Virginia:

You mean like you're supposed to look out for me or something? Only one problem… Mom isn't going to let you go with me, she kinda hates you.

Looker:

That woman doesn't frighten me. I've dealt with more than one case of young people being subjected to such, how you say, controlling figures before.

Virginia:

[While he doesn't sound too happy about it, she certainly is to know he might get to come after all. She gives a nod and goes to grab her hat and bag.] Then let's see what's out there~!

=+=

[As though luck would have it, she gets startled again as she opens the door to find her mother on the other side with one hand raised to knock and the other holding the completed lunch bag. The woman seems almost impressed as she lowers her hand to place it on her hip.]

Mom:

And where do you think you're off to in such a hurry?

Virginia:

Umm, well you told me to grab my stuff, so I thought we were going out.

Mom:

Still faster than I expected. [Perks up] Good on you for taking some initiative. [hands her the bag and goes to dig in her pockets] I have a treat for you~! One of our neighbors saw me in the garden this morning and gave me a ticket for the Ride Pokemon Show happening in Iki Town today in exchange for some fresh vegetables. Talk about a steal, we weren't even the ones to grow them! Of course there's only one but I have some unpacking to do and thought you might as well educate yourself. Here~!

Virginia:

[A Ride Pokemon Show? What does that even mean? But why question it when her mother was telling her to go see something without being escorted?] Thanks, Mom! [She slips it into the bag for safekeeping and starts to head for the door.] We'll be back before dark.

Mom:

Now hold on, missy. You're not taking the Meowth.

Looker:

[Meows at her. Visibly getting defensive as he curls his paws and glares at the woman.]

Virginia:

But I can't go alone…

Mom:

You'll be fine. The road between here and Iki Town is completely clear, so you won't need any Pokemon with you tonight. I just heard your new little friend should be arriving by tomorrow. Besides, that thing can't defend you even if you did take it.

Virginia:

Ah… alright. [He at least comes with her to the door as she shoots a glance at the cat. Softly.] I told you she wouldn't.

Looker:

Don't worry about me. I'll just take the evening to do a bit of research. Go on. I may have a plan in the works.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So I thought I’d try taking the transcript from Randomized Ultra Moon and turning it into a story during NaNoWriMo last month. .... I am still on Melemele Island. XD Still! I’ve found myself falling in love with the dark world this script is giving me, but I’m still not sure about the title for this new novel. And since I’m done transcribing it, I’m not sure about the plot yet, but I feel like I can work with it as it goes along. This will make things... interesting in the long run. We’ll take this ride together!

#twitch plays pokemon #randomized ultra moon #Virginia Faba #Verge #The Light

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chameleon-of-the-fandom · 5 years

Text

Brothers In Arms: Pt 2

Words: 2375 Part 1

Magnum bends over, his ribs aching from the swim. Once he manages to get the pain under control, he stands back up and looks at the man still handcuffed to him. "What next?" He looks around, but there is nothing in sight. He doesn’t understand why these men just jumped into the ocean and dragged him onto this uninhabitable island. Kaho'olawe. With the amount of unexploded ordinance on this island, this trip was going to be interesting.

"Now, we load onto the ATVs stashed a mile in, and we get what we brought you along for." Great, just like Hannah's gold all over again. At least this time he was on land. Despite injuries, Magnum made it to the men's ATVs. Black shirt unlocked the handcuff on Green shirt's wrist and moved it to Magnum's open wrist. "You do anything stupid, like try to jump off the ATV, and he'll," Black shirt nodded at Buzz Cut," shoot you. We might need you for obtaining our treasure, but afterwards? Not so much, SEAL. Now get on with Jack, here." Ah, so Jack was the man in the green shirt.

Thomas nods. "You got it. Causing no trouble."

"Good." With that, they started up their ATVs and headed into the trees. While riding, Thomas couldn't help but hope his brothers were doing okay. He was planning on doing everything he could to get back to them. At least they weren't here. Before he knew it, the ATVs were rumbling to a stop. He looked around for a landmark to help identify where they were on the island. Unfortunately, it seemed they were nestled between two ridges. The only thing he could positively identify is the distance from the ocean, roughly a klick. They were stopped on the hill and he recognized one of the nearby gulches swimming in. Black shirt crawled off his ATV and picked his way over to Magnum. "Here we are." Buzz Cut lifted his gun out of the holster to a resting position. As Black shirt undid his cuffs, Magnum held his hands up. "Your objective is to retrieve this box." Black Shirt pulled up a picture on his phone to show the box, then slid right to reveal a map. "It's about 165 yards off this trail to the right. You bring that back to us, and we'll take you back to Oahu and you can go home safe and sound. Understood?"

"Can I know what is in there?" Thomas asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"No. You find out, and we'll leave you here."

"Okay, okay. No looking in the box, grab it, bring it back to you, and I go home safe. How long do I get?"

"We'll be generous and give you 30 minutes."

Thomas nodded and started towards the direction Black Shirt had given him. Since they weren't going to follow him in, he knew he was gonna look in the box despite their warning. They had kidnapped him, he wasn't going to do whatever they wanted simply because they promised him safe passage home.

About 10 minutes of carefully picking his path while looking for explosive ordinance, and he finally noticed a wooden box, that almost resembled his footlocker at home. He knelt down in front of it, and cautiously opened the box.

"Holy-" He cut himself off. Rough estimate, there was a million dollars in this box. There was absolutely no way he was taking this back to them. They could use the money to disappear or worse. But, they know where it is. "Screw this, guess I'm not going home." He picks it up, and travels farther into the trees. All this moving is exasperating his injuries but now, he has no choice but to push through the pain. He carries it a couple hundred yards before realizing that if he's careful, he can deposit it on the island and get back to the boat before the kidnappers. They'd be left here with no way off. Mind made up, he puts the box down and covers it loosely with some dirt. He then spots the beach they arrived on and quickly, yet carefully makes his way towards it.

Magnum is breathing hard by the time he makes it to the beach, and his ribs are twinging with every breath. He looks back to see if the men have made it down here yet, but doesn’t quite hear them. Deciding to not wait to see where they're at, he runs into the water to start heading for the boat that's anchored about half a mile from the shore.

Rick is steadily pacing, as well as Higgins, TC, and Kumu. His phone rings.

"It's an unknown number." Kumu shoots him a look.

"Well? Answer it." She looks back to the phone. He taps the answer button and puts it on speaker.

"Rick Wright."

"Rick." Thomas' voice comes over the line. "Good to hear your voice."

"Brother, it's good to hear yours. Where are you at?" TC speaks up.

"Currently, I'm sitting on a Coast Guard Vessel about 40 klicks from Lanai Lookout."

Everyone looks at the phone. "Thomas. Why are you with the Coast Guard?" Higgins asks.

"Um. Long story. Please tell Katsumoto he can call off the search though." He doesn’t think Higgins or Kumu can hear the pain in Tommy's voice but by the slight flinch TC gives off, Rick knows he can hear it too.

"Brother, Katsumoto doesn’t have the case anymore. Five-O took it." "Okay," Usually, Thomas would crack a joke about Steve, but when he doesn't make it, Rick knows either the pain is really bad, or Magnum's brain is running away. "Would you please let him know he can call off the search dogs?"

"Of course. What can we do?" Kumu asks again.

"N-nothing at the moment." Both TC and Rick catch the stutter from the pain. "I'll have someone drop me off at the Nest when I'm finished giving my statement." Rick catches the unsaid and after I get checked out. Not for the first time since the call, Rick wonders how bad shape Magnum is in, especially to get checked out.

"We'll see you when you get here, man." TC states with fondness. The line goes dead pretty quickly after that. Rick looks at his friend. "Orville, we'd better get things ready." Rick agrees. Higgins looks between the two men.

"What does that mean?" she questions.

A look passes between the two men. "Ladies, it may not be best for you to be around when he gets back."

Kumu reads between the lines and agrees. Higgins still wants the information, so she waits until the older lady leaves before asking again.

"Higgy, look you know you're part of our little family, but Magnum is gonna be fighting some demons when he gets back. Trust us, as much as you want to be here, it might be better if you weren't. It's gonna get pretty dark. You think the Hannah issue was bad? This is gonna be worse." Rick looks at TC, a wordless conversation passing between the two. "But, if you want, you can stay until he gets here."

"I can work with that. Thank you, gents." She accepts.

My fault. My fault. Stop, please. Please. No. Don't touch them. No. I will do whatever you want. Just please don't touch them. It’s my fault. I am sorry. So sorry. The words spin and rattle in Magnum's head.

"Lieutenant Magnum, I'm Master Chief Smith. Commander Steve McGarrett is picking you up from the dock to take you home as well as take your statement. Paramedics are also waiting to check you out." Magnum nodded at the woman who gave him the information.

"Thank you, ma'am." "Of course, Lieutenant." He tugs his arm a little closer to his side as they hit a wave that hurts.

When they finally arrive back at the port, Magnum makes his way over to the paramedics, who inform him that he probably has a couple broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and to monitor the small nicks and cuts for any sign of infection. His next stop is the black Camaro parked two spaces over.

"Hey, Steve." "Thomas. You sure know how to take a few years off a man's life." The SEAL grins, relieved to see his comrade alive.

"Yeah, I've had some time to perfect my technique since I saw you last."

"Hello." Danny speaks up from behind his partner.

"Detective Williams." Magnum greets respectfully.

"Hey, Danny works for me. Nice to meet you Lieutenant Magnum."

"Please, just Thomas."

"Wanna walk us through what happened?" Steve chimes in again.

"I was driving, on my way to see a prospective client, when an SUV pulled in front of me. I slowed down, and couldn't pass it, but it stopped. Three men climbed out, one with a Glock 9mil, the other two with ARs. They had me climb into their vehicle. One of them punched me and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in an abandoned warehouse. They pushed me around a bit, questioned me about the Rosalita."

"Questioned how?" Danny asks, and glares at the look his partner shot him.

"Pushed around, knocked around." Magnum keeps the answers vague. Danny nods in response, sensing Magnum's reluctance to talk about it.

"They didn't like the way I phrased some of my responses, so they cracked a couple ribs. We were there for about 3 or 4 hours. After that, they got me back into the SUV and we drove to a dock. We loaded into that boat and drove over to just off Kaho'olawe. There was a box full of money they wanted me to retrieve. Unfortunately, once I saw it, I took off in their boat."

Steve nearly jerks backward, only his training keeping him from moving. Kaho'olawe was known, well known even, for being covered in unexploded ordinance.

"I know how you feel about your clients, Magnum. But I gotta ask, is it possible they were targeting you?" Steve asked.

"Possibly. I'd hate to put a client in that position, but it's very possible that they set me up. All one would have to do to find my past is search my name on Google." Magnum looks at his friend. "After our escape, we were very... well-known. We even did a press conference. "

Danno looked thoughtful at this new avenue of information, "I think we have all we need. Steve?" He turns to his partner.

"I think you're right, brah. Magnum, we'll keep you updated and informed of any new information. Just don't do anything stupid." The man in question simply nods in response, more than happy to just go home and see his brothers.

As Steve pulls into the Nest, he sees some of the blinds in the guesthouse fluttered, and knows Magnum's friends were waiting on him. Once he has the car in park, he turns to the SEAL in the backseat. "We're here. Seems like TC and Rick are waiting."

"Yeah." Thomas takes a second to shore up against his nerves. The words my fault have yet to leave his head. He knew TC and Rick would help him get rid of the words, but he feels like he deserves the pain they cause. He opens the Camaro door, and thank Steve and Danno for the ride. He knows he is stalling, but he isn't sure he wanted to go in, to have his burden alleviated. It feels like it's his burden to bear, not something he deserves help with. He listens to the car tires crunching gravel as he makes his way to his home.

As soon as Thomas walks in the door, Rick and TC jump up off the couch to greet him. As they walk up to him, Magnum nods, letting them know it was okay to hug him, something they hadn't done since their time in hell. They pull him between them and fold him into a hug, where he sags, happy to be home and relieved that he made it.

Rick is ecstatic his brother has made it back to them, but he can see the torment in Tommy's eyes. A look that he's seen very little since they made it back from Afghanistan, one that was present when Nuzo died, and when Higgins got injured helping them solve a case. Dread sinks like a pit in Rick's stomach at that look, and he shoots a glance at TC, hoping the other man had seen it. When TC barely moves his head, Rick knows the pilot had seen the same thing he had. "You're here, you're okay." Rick starts to murmur, knowing Magnum is fighting not to visit a flashback. "This isn't your fault." Those words are going to make an appearance at some point today, so it's best to get a jump on fighting those thoughts off.

Juliet had stuck to her word and as soon Magnum had walked through the door, she'd been gone. But now that she was sitting in her study, she was horrified. His shoulder was a lovely shade of bruising, and the way he was walking- well, she knows that walk well. His ribs were, at the least, cracked, if not broken. But, the thing about him that scared her the most was his look of fear, and self-recrimination. Like he was blaming himself for the entire situation. Which, knowing him, she reasoned, is probably very true at the moment. Now she understands why Rick hadn't wanted her and Kumu there when he arrived. He looked miserable. Hopefully his brothers can help pull him out of the pit he's digging himself, and quickly.

TC knows it's gonna be a long evening, when Rick murmurs that it's not Tommy's fault, and he flinches at the words as if fighting their effect on him. Both uninjured men guide Magnum to the couch, and help him gingerly sit. They take their place on either side of him and put gently pressure on his arms, cognizant of the damage done to his shoulder and the extensive bruising coloring it. It's not the first time they've helped him heal this way, it's probably not the last. Unfortunately, TC thinks.

The End (for all)

Thanks to those who read this! I appreciate it. Let me know what you think, even if you think it sucked. I feed off the comments! Thank you!

#magnum pi #hawaii 5-0 #thomas magnum #juilet higgins #kumu #steve mcgarrett #danny danno williams #tc callahan #rick wright

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