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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

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Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 13 - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

My dear friend @abimess, I keep stealing your gifs and making updates without telling you. I hope you never get tired of it.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Chapter Warnings: Magical torture with minors, cursing, angst, ptsd, derogatory thoughts and behavior, dark magic.

Chapter Words: 8.486 K

A/N> Yes, I've gone for a month without warning anyone, and yes that might go on, but at least i'm near ending this (I'm already writing chapter 21). Once I'm finished, I'll just programe tumblr to upload them all for me because i'm lazy. I hope anyone like this yet, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore. Good reading!

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 13 - Part XIII - The Sixth Year (Part Three)

Gossip really starts to irritate you when you go to lunch after potions.

"You want to say something to me, girl?" You charge impatiently when you hear the giggles behind you again, coming from a group of students sitting at Ravenclaw's table.

The group turns around with wry smiles on their faces, and you notice the editions of the Daily Prophet in the hand of one of the boys. It is Hope Summers, your classmate, who speaks first:

"We're just sharing some theories, Stark." She says in a provocative tone. "Some of us find it an interesting coincidence that just now that Mephisto is back, you and Maximoff are losing control of magic."

You frown.

"What are you talking about?" you ask in surprise, referring to Wanda, but Hope thinks you want her to keep mocking you.

"It's just suspicious that no one knows what happened to you in that dungeon, or at the ministry of magic." Hope counters. "And now you two are blowing things up, and we have a dark wizard on the loose."

"Fuck you, Summmers." You curse as you stand up, leaving the girl in shock at your aggressiveness.

The same auror from the first day stands in front of you as you try to approach Slytherin's table.

"Students must respect..."

But you interrupted his speech with a loud shove that sent him staggering backwards, and drew the immediate attention of several people.

You were seeing red by now, the man's wry smile only making you more irritated.

He drew his wand, but so did you. And the room held its breath.

"Put your wand away, Miss Stark." Warned the auror angrily, but you didn't.

Wanda stood up as she noticed the confusion, rushing to reach you, but the auror put his arm in her way.

"Now, miss." He warned again, and you grunted in irritation.

"Get your hands off her." You retorted, feeling your body fever with hatred.

"Stark." The man said, his arm reaching down to push Wanda back, and you exploded.

You didn't even finish thinking about the spell, the magic exploding out of your wand.

The auror masterfully blocked it, and you dropped your wand to jump on top of him.

It was a confusion of shoving, other bigger students pulling you away from the man and he away from you.

" Never fucking touch her again!" You warned snorting in anger, Thor Odinson stopping you from jumping on the man's neck.

"I just pushed her away from the line of fire, you crazy bitch!" The auror retorted indignantly and angrily. "Go to the headmaster's office now!"

"Fuck you!"

Thor pulled you out of the hall as the crowd of students whistled in celebration, excited about the whole fight. The auror was too busy dissipating everyone to follow you.

"Hey, hothead, calm down." The blonde warned as he released the grip of you by the courtyard. You grunted angrily, wishing you could break something.

"Fuck this school, fuck that asshole." You complained aloud, as Thor looked at you curiously.

"You have quite a rage, Stark." He comments, and you grumble in irritation.

But Wanda catches up with you the next moment, and she looks even angrier than you.

"What the hell was that?" she asks and you roll your eyes, running your hands through your hair.

"I think you are going to be fine for now on." Thor comments, smiling at the thank you Wanda says to him before leaving you two alone.

"So?" Wanda insists, arms crossed. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at her.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort angrily.

"You just started a fight for no reason! Again!" She accuses. "Only this time it was with a wizard who could kill you. I want to know what's going on!"

"I don't know, Wanda!" You exclaim angrily. "Why does everyone expect me to have answers? I don't know! Do you understand that? It feels like I'm going to explode in frustration any second, neither you or Gamora seem to get it. I don't understand what's happening to me!"

"Because you won't talk to us!" She shouts back, just as annoyed as you are. "You're pushing everyone away! Even me! We can't help you if you don't talk to us!"

You grunt impatiently, turning around. There was a strange throbbing in the back of your head, a strange whisper. Like a voice telling you that no one was telling you the truth, that your friends expected too much of you, that Wanda didn't care...

This last thought made you sob. Wanda softened her expression immediately, taking a step toward you and touching your shoulder, but you pulled away from her touch as if burned, wiping your tears away quickly.

"Leave me alone, Wanda." You mutter between teeth. She hesitates, raising her hand toward you again.

"Please."

"I need some time from you." You insist, pushing her hand away, and walking away.

A part of your brain is begging you to go back and make things right, but there is a cloud of anger and irritation that keeps you walking.

//-//-//-//-//

You roll over in bed in discomfort.

Nightmares. Again.

It has only been five days since you had your fight with Wanda, and you are getting worse every day.

With Summers' teasing, you end up noticing other things too.

How the school really found the theory that you and Wanda were somehow related to Mephisto, because the minister had covered up what happened in the dungeons and in the ministry, and everybody thought it was strange that two students were showing an increase in magical potential with the return of a dark wizard.

Unlike you, who were failing considerably in any simple execution of spells, Wanda was demonstrating exceptional abilities. Kaecilius was more than willing to make her the face of progress at Hogwarts, you heard the gossip about bringing in reporters to share the news of the new direction.

You know that the only reason Wanda hasn't come after you yet was because you're running away from her like the plague.

And you couldn't even explain why.

You were also blocking out your real health condition from her. Just like you two practiced during the summer.

Besides hiding this from Wanda, you have kept your friends away too, isolating yourself from everyone else in search of a little rest, only succeeding in taking a nap when you are running away between classes.

And the detentions with Kaecilius keep increasing as you skip classes.

You begin to consider learning to write with a different hand, just so the bruise has time to heal, but at this point you don't even care about the scar anymore.

"You really must like pain." Loki teases wryly as you sit in an empty room, waiting for the aurors' shift change again after your detention.

You don't ask him what he's doing on that floor again, and he doesn't ask why you haven't spoken to your friends in two weeks.

"Sure, that must be it." You joke back, massaging your injured hand.

He assumes a pensive expression for a second.

"Are you sure you haven't been cursed by someone?" He asks, causing you to frown in shock and confusion.

"Excuse me?"

He gives a little chuckle, settling himself better against the wall.

"Everyone's been talking about you being sick." He says. "I heard some of the Ravenclaw people theorize that you became a werewolf over the summer."

You laugh helplessly, massaging your temples lightly.

"I guarantee that's not it." You say making Loki smile.

"If you are sick for no reason, it could be a curse." He says. "I wouldn't be surprised, the way things are."

"But how do I find out if I've been cursed?"

Loki takes a thoughtful stance.

"I don't know." He says. "But I'm sure you can learn that in the no longer reserved session of the library."

You laugh at the joke, but soon you both return to silence. When that hallway's shift ends, Loki sighs, getting up and helping you to stand.

"Still can't perform spells?" He asks, already drawing his wand.

"Only if I want to blow things up." You scoff making him laugh.

"Fine, I'll enchant you." He says. When you are transparent, he looks at you with an amused expression. "See you next Saturday, troublemaker?

"Don't worry, I plan on skipping DADA, maybe I'll be here tomorrow." You retort in the same tone before turning to leave.

//-////-//-//-//-//

It takes three more days for Wanda to finally corner you.

You are skipping class in an empty room on the seventh floor, trying to doze off, and almost fall out of your chair with fright when the door opens and Wanda comes in, looking annoyed.

You grunt impatiently, without lifting your face from the desk.

"I told you I needed time." You complain, but tense up when you notice the tears in her eyes as she moves closer to sit at the table next to yours.

" You want to break up with me?" She asks in a whisper and you raise your head immediately, feeling your chest tighten.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda gives a humorless laugh at your expression. "Why are you acting like this is an absurd idea? You've disappeared. You've been avoiding me, not even talking to me anymore."

You shake your head quickly, feeling the urge to cry.

"I don't want to break up with you." You say. "I..I would never want to be away from you."

"You just said you need time away from me." Wanda retorts with annoyance, and you feel your stomach clench as she sighs. "I don't know what's going on with us. And I miss you, but you won't let me near you."

You are exhausted. So you cry.

You rest your head on your arms, and let your sobs fill the silence, hoping that the tears will take this bad feeling away.

It's Wanda's gentle touch on your back that helps.

"Babe, tell me what's wrong." She whispers to you, her tone concerned.

It takes many minutes for you to calm down. But when you do, Wanda holds your hand, kneeling on the floor beside the chair you are in.

"I can't do magic." You breathlessly tell her from crying, "And I can't sleep. I've been sick for weeks, and I'm angry all the time. Healer Cho doesn't know what's wrong with me, but everyone at school seems to have a theory about it. I think I'm going to suffocate, Wanda. I'm messing everything up. Between us, between my family, and at school." You sob as you finish and Wanda shakes her head, her hand coming up to your cheek.

"Don't say that." She urges. "You didn't ruin anything. Hey, look at me. I love you. Your sisters love you, your friends love you. We'll figure out what's going on."

Wanda hugs you tight, and you sob, shaking.

You want to believe her words, so you push the intrusive thoughts away, and believe it.

//-//-//-//

Wanda takes you to a door in that same floor you two were before, but you have never seen that door until that moment.

And you are very surprised to realize that it is a bedroom.

"How...?" You ask confused as she closes the it.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirement." She says with a smile, pulling you by the hand around. "We hold our Avengers meetings here." She counters and you frown.

"In a bedroom? Interesting choice." You comment and she giggles.

"No, my love." She says. "That's how this room works. It is charmed to meet your needs. That's why I asked you to come in first."

"Oh, that's pretty cool." You say looking around. Wanda smiles at you, and then you both reach the bed. "The room thinks I have to sleep?"

"I do too." Wanda retorts, pushing your shoulders gently for you to sit on the bed. "Go on, nice dreams."

You hesitate. "You gonna leave me here alone?"

Wanda denies with her head, pointing to the chair that probably just magically appeared next to the bed. You frown.

"Can't you sleep in the bed with me?"

She giggles. "We don't have much time for you to sleep. If I lie down, you'll want to kiss me. So I'll be sitting in that armchair, studying as I should." She explains seriously, and you pout.

"Stupid rules." You grumble moving your hands up to her waist. "Lie down with me."

"Babe..."

"Please."

Wanda sighs, then nods. You smile, quickly removing your shoes as she does the same. You quickly adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms for her to lie on top of you, and she gives a little giggle before doing so.

"Are you cozy, sweetheart?" You murmur against her hair, and Wanda squeezes her arms around you.

"Yeah, your boobs are good pillows." She teases, making you laugh with reddened cheeks.

Your eyes begin to heavy quickly, fatigue catching up with your body relaxed by the comfort of the moment.

"Go to sleep, babe." Wanda whispers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smile with your eyes closed, surrendering.

It's the best sleep you've had in weeks.

The problem is that as soon as you start to wake up again, you are feeling sick.

You touch the emptiness in the bed, mumbling softly. When you open your eyes you find Wanda sitting in the armchair, the darkhold in her lap.

"Damn it, Wanda, this book again." You complain in a hoarse voice, but she just sighs.

"Why the attitude?"

"I hate that book." You grumble sitting up in bed, massaging your face lightly. "Why do you keep reading it anyway?"

"It's interesting." She says, closing the item to look at you. "Agatha really told me a lot, but there are also things I didn't know."

"For example?"

Wanda bites her lips, appraising you.

"Scarlet witches are forged, for instance." She says and you frown in confusion. Wanda sighs. "Many powerful witches, born scarlet witches, never got to fulfill their destiny because the forging didn't happen."

You straighten your clothes uncomfortably, pensively.

"What exactly does that mean?"

"What the headmistress did last year was my forging." She clarifies and you swallow dryly, feeling your stomach turn. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you ask confused.

"Everything." She says upset. "I know we've talked about this, but it seems like all I do is cause you problems. With the bond, and with the forge. If Agatha didn't want my powers, she wouldn't have taken you to the dungeon and you wouldn't have suffered."

You poke at the knot of your tie, feeling yourself suffocate slightly. Wanda is speaking, you blink to focus on her words.

"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" You ask out of breath, sweating. You blink to find Wanda's concerned gaze on you.

"Babe, what's wrong?" She asks worriedly, her hands around your face.

You feel your head spin, and everything goes dark before you can answer.

//-//-//-//

You smell the scent of grass when you wake up.

Then you blink in confusion, getting used to your surroundings to realize that you are in what looks like a ward bed.

"Hey, all right, take it easy getting up, Miss Stark." Asked Professor Strange with one hand on her shoulder. In the other he held a potion that you imagined he had given you.

"W-what happened?" you mumbled confusedly, sitting up in bed. Only now did you notice Professor Munroe and Wanda standing in front of the bed, both with worried expressions.

"You passed out, but you're better now I imagine." Stephen explained gently, but you were still feeling very weak.

"Professor, she simply blacked out." Wanda commented in a tearful voice. " Don't you have any idea what's wrong?"

Stephen sighed, and then pointed at the chair, the darkhold.

"Where did you get that book?" He asked, and Wanda frowned, taking a step toward the chair in a defensive posture.

"What does that have to do with my question?" she retorted dryly, and Stephen looked at you one last time before standing up.

"There's a reason it's called the Book of the Damned, Miss Maximoff." He says."It damns its readers."

"That's ridiculous." Wanda retorted, crossing her arms. "I've been reading it for weeks and nothing has happened."

"Not with you."

Wanda hesitates, widening her eyes. And then she takes a step back, swallowing her cry as she reaches out to grab the book and hand it to Stephen.

She turns her gaze back to you, and lets the tears fall.

"I am truly sorry." She says with a mixture of guilt and shame before turning to leave the room.

You call out to her about three times, but she leaves and you don't have the strength to go after her.

"Damn, couldn't I have said that in a different way?" You complain angrily to Stephen, who just sighs, exchanging a look with Professor Munroe. "How come you two are here anyway?"

"It was Wanda." Professor Ororo replies. "She asked the room for someone trustworthy to help her with you. Then there was a door opening in the potions room. Stephen was there with me, and we both came."

"Great." You mutter annoyed, thinking about how you are going to talk to Wanda and convince her that you were not angry with her. "Would either of you happen to know how to make me better now?"

"Sure." Stephen comments by raising the book in the air, and with a wave of his hand, the item dissolves into several pieces until it is gone. "I didn't destroy it, if that's what you're thinking. I just put it away, to prevent something like that from happening again."

"Congratulations." You grumble wryly as you straighten up in bed, the same migraine from before is now weaker, but it's still there.

"You know, you had a better attitude when you didn't have a magical doom on your spirit." Stephen complains, causing you to frown, but Professor Ororo gives a chuckle.

"Thanks professor." You comment wryly, making him laugh. He sits back down beside your bed, and pulls out of the cover a small notebook.

"Now that Miss Maximoff has stopped reading the book, I suppose you will get better." Stephen says, making you sigh.

"You suppose? That's encouraging." You say moving to stand up.

"Where are you going, Miss Stark? You need to rest." Warn the professor, but you ignore him, and ignore the weakness in your body as well.

"What I need, Strange, is for people to stop lying to me."

"No one is lying, Miss Stark." Professor Ororo states next. "We really don't know the extent of the magic the darkhold carries."

"And why is that I imagine?" You sneer. "Because someone omitted the truth from you, and it's been passed down for generations, isn't it? Well, that's over now. Because we've finally studied everything in this place, including a book that condemns anyone who reads it." You exclaim impatiently, stooping down to put on your shoes. "If you two will excuse me, I'll figure out how to get better on my own. But first I'm going to explain to my girlfriend that none of this is her fault."

Ororo and Stephen are silent, but you wouldn't have been paying attention to anything they said anyway.

Soon you are up and out of the requirement room looking for Wanda.

//-//-//-//

She seems to have disappeared from the castle, so you must concentrate to use your instincts.

The hardest part is dodging the aurors, but you finally reach the astronomy tower.

You're a little out of breath from the run, but it's the image of Wanda standing on the edge, the sunlight in her hair that leaves you breathless.

"Hi." You say in a low tone, your hands in your pockets as you approach. She startles slightly, wiping away tears as she keeps her gaze forward.

"What do you want here?" she asks in a husky voice. You sigh.

"That you stop hating yourself and listen to me." You say and she lets out a short laugh.

"And what do you think you can say?" She questions turning her body toward you. "All I do is hurt you."

You shake your head, but Wanda lets out a tearful laugh.

"No you don't understand." She says. "Since I met you, you have only brought me good things. Affection, happiness, hope. You've been that kind warm feeling that I need on my worst days. Hell, you're even the memory for me to cast a patronus." She confesses with emotion, her face wet with tears. "But me? All I bring you is pain and suffering. And now I even bring sickness. This is wrong, I hurt you. You need to see this, and understand that we can no longer happen."

"Don't say that." You ask, reaching up to touch her face, wipe away her tears. "That's not true, Wanda. I love you, you make me..."

"Stop it." She interrupts with a sob. "Don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." You plead, resting your forehead on hers, your hands on her cheeks. "You make me happy, you are the only thing that makes me happy, I love you, please..."

Wanda kisses you hard, and you respond with the same intensity, both of you gasping into each other's mouths.

But then she is pulling away, thrusting you farther apart.

"I'm sorry." She cries, taking a step back. "We're over."

And she's running away again, and this time you don't go after her.

//-//-//-//-//

Without Darkhold's being consumed, you really start to improve in terms of physical health.

The only problem is the emotional ditch you find yourself in.

Gamora, Nebula and Mantis find you, again in the Room of Requirement, skipping class.

"My god this is worse than last time." Gamora remarks as she looks around at the mess of junk food and pillows. The room had been transformed into a "comfortable place", which basically had the appearance of a living room, with several soft armchairs, and lots of unhealthy food. "Why did you guys break up this time?"

"Please don't talk to me." You grumbled, your voice coming out muffled because you were lying on two soft puffs, your face buried in the pillow, your hand inside a bag of muggles snacks.

"I bet you five bucks they'll be back together before the end of the month." Nebula commented and you sniffled against your pillow, hearing a noise that sounded like Gamora hitting her sister.

"We talked to Wanda." Mantis said. "And with Professor Stephen, too. We're sorry about everything, but have you decided you're not going to study anymore?"

"I don't care about school." You grumble against the pillow. "Leave me alone, I want to cry."

Nebula gives a short laugh, and Gamora elbows her.

"Stop hitting me, you crazy." Nebula complains loudly, moving away from her sister to approach you, taking the bag of snacks you have, and making you complain softly. "And you stop being such a drama queen. Aren't you two like soul mates or some shit? It's just a fight, you'll work it out. You're acting like you've never broken up before."

"Your sensitivity is admirable." Gamora scoffs, pushing her sister away to sit next to you, stroking your back until you look up at her. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

You feel the urge to cry arise again. "Wanda thinks she is bad for me." You say. "And she doesn't want to be with me anymore, and I want to die."

You start crying again, stuffing your face into the pillow as Gamora strokes your hair.

"How did this happen anyway?" Nebula asks, confused, chewing on salty snacks."You barely slept at home over the summer to be with her, and now you guys are breaking up. It's hard to keep up with this relationship."

"Merlin, Nebula shut up." Gamora asks impatiently, and her sister raises her hands in surrender with an ironic expression. You want to scream against your pillow, but all you do is try to control your crying.

"You can't keep disappearing, sweetheart." Gamora says as she runs her hands through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Kaecilius has already noticed. He's trying to figure out where you're going, and eventually he'll figure it out since you can't stay here forever."

"Maybe I can." You mumble making Gamora laugh softly.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss a decent meal." She says. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"

"I can't sit at your table."

"Who said anything about a table?"

This is how you end up on the edge of the great lake, at a picnic.

Mantis gets several dishes from the house elves, and since lunch is a free social hour, nobody seems to mind that you are eating outside.

Your sisters are not the only students who, over time, have learned ways around school rules.

You grumble slightly as you feel the sun on your face, but lie back on the grass, closing your eyes.

Your mind wanders back to last summer immediately, the memories of Wanda, and you feel horrible. You just want her back. And then you swallow the urge to cry again to accept the juice Mantis offers you.

"We wanted to tell you that we've found a way to help you, too." Gamora says after a moment, causing you to raise your eyebrow. "About the darkhold, and the eternal damnation thing."

"Light topic." You sneer, throwing your arm over your face. The day is hot. "I appreciate the help, of course."

Gamora giggles. "Merlin, I had forgotten how grumpy you get when you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Gamora." You retort angrily. "I'm frustrated."

"Sexually." Nebula sneers, making you grunt in anger, but Mantis holds back a laugh.

"What's your problem with my feelings lately?" You accuse the girl with irritation.

"Not everything is about you, you know." She retorts and you sit up quickly, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nebula laughs, rolling her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on." She says. "We're all stressed and scared. And the three of us have been in the same classes as you, having to watch the same things. But you only have time for Wanda. And now you've broken up, again, because there's some mortal danger, again, that she's caused for you. So, I don't know, but maybe she is right to break up. Ever since you guys started dating everything has been about her, and the trouble she causes!"

"Fuck you, Nebula!" You exclaim angrily, advancing against the girl in front of you. Gamora and Mantis quickly separate you.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Gamora shoves you. "Were you really going to hit her?"

"Fuck this." You curse angrily, taking a step away. "I didn't ask any of you to come after me. I don't need you. I just need Wanda. Fucking leave me alone."

You turn back to the castle, cursing the wild on your way.

//-//-//-//

Loki is the only friend you have now.

You wouldn't call him a friend exactly.

Kaecilius has put you in detention for three days a week, including Saturday, but mostly you just clean the castle. But when he takes you to the seventh floor, and makes you scrape sentences against your own skin, you don't worry about being alone anymore, because Loki is always on that floor.

It takes a week for you to tell him about the requirement room.

" You could have mentioned it earlier, we would have stuck around here." He comments without sounding upset.

Soon it doesn't take long for you two to start seeing each other even when you're not in detention.

You are not surprised that Loki also skips classes, he has always been quite mischievous, but the reason is different from yours.

He knew dark magic. Much more than you or your classmates. And he has no interest in practicing it in class.

"It's stupid." He comments as you are sitting in the armchairs. "Most people will never have the courage or willpower to cast a death curse. It's useless to learn."

"Is that the only reason you don't agree with the teaching at Hogwarts now?" You ask in surprise, setting up the chessboard for yourself as Loki shrugs his shoulders.

"I feel like you're judging me, Hufflepuff." He sneers but you smile, rolling your eyes.

"Honestly, I don't give a damn."

And you really didn't care.

Wanda was avoiding you in the halls, and you were doing the same with your friends and family.

When Iron delivered the mail to the Slytherin table, including Nebula's birthday presents, you wanted to throw up, but all you did was walk away from the Hufflepuff table toward the requirement room.

Without the darkhold, you didn't feel sick, but the anger didn't go away.

Your magic hadn't stabilized, and you were failing at everything, but you couldn't bring yourself to worry about it.

Erik wrote to you, commenting on the importance of you and Wanda practicing magical balancing together, and you burned the letter while crying on the carpet.

And at this rate, time went by.

It was almost the middle of the school year when things started to take a turn for the worse at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding war as well.

Mephisto is getting stronger, and the order is losing. And Kaecillius must be under some pressure from the ministry, maybe for answers from organizations like the Avengers, which are forbidden, because his detentions get too horrible.

It is Saturday again, and you drag yourself to the room where you are supposed to fulfill your detention, but unlike the other days, Kaecillius locks the door.

You only notice because he seems tense and distracted, and there is no feather or book.

"Professor, what will my punishment be today?" You ask confused, and he is nodding to the center of the room as he stands in front of the desk, a few feet from you.

"Miss Stark, today I want to ask some questions and I expect honesty." He declines as he turns to you.

You hiss softly, putting your hands in your pockets.

"Shoot."

Kaecillius doesn't even mind your lack of formality, looking at you with an impassive face.

"What is Mephisto's location?"

You choke in surprise and disbelief. "Excuse me? Why do you think I know that?"

"The ministry has reason enough to suspect that the Order of the Avengers is nothing more than a cover for the death walkers.Your brother, whom I had suspected of being part of that order of delinquents, is no longer at Hogwarts, but you will have to serve." He speaks and with each word you become more outraged. "Now answer me, where is Mephisto?"

" Did you just fucking call my brother a delinquent?" You mutter incredulously. "I have no idea where Mephisto is, what's your problem?"

But you widen your eyes when the professor draws his wand, and you barely have time to swallow dry before the spell hits you in the chest.

It's the cruciatus curse. You know the second it hits you. The sharp pain fills every cell in your body and you scream, not having the strength to stand or with your eyes open, hugging yourself.

"We must not tell lies, Miss Stark." Kaecillius says as soon as he stops enchanting you, the pain disappears in the same instant, but you continue to tremble.

In complete shock and fear, you sob.

"I will ask you again, where is Mephisto?"

You let the tears flow, and shake your head. "I don't know, professor."

Kaecillius lets out a sigh of disappointment. "Some cases are more difficult than others." He comments somberly, taking a step toward her. "Did you know that the record for enduring the Cruciatus curse before madness is six hours? Incredible, isn't it? It happened during the first war, with a muggleborn. You're a half-blood, maybe you can take longer"

He has a devilish grin as he finishes, and you clench your jaw at the threat.

"I don't know where Mephisto is." You repeat, but the professor points his wand at you again.

"My bet is seven hours."

And then the pain returns.

You don't know how long you stay in that room.

But it is long enough for your consciousness to begin to fade. The pain gets so severe that it gradually fades away. You begin to gasp breathlessly, not even able to scream anymore.

Someone help me. Please, help me. Help me. Wanda.

Between the tears you see the floor of the room, and between a twinge of pain, a red light. And everything is dark again.

//-//-//

“Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Warcraft and Wizard is arrested in flagrant by aurors from the ministry of magic this week, full coverage on page..."

You blink confusedly, your eyes getting used to the clarity, while the headline of the Daily Prophet was the first thing your vision caught.

And then you shifted in bed, realizing that you were in a hospital room , and whoever was reading next to you put the paper down when they heard you, and you could behold the curious look on your brother's face.

"Tony?" you whispered confused, and he smiled as he stood up quickly, the newspaper forgotten on the armchair.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked as his hand reached for the loose strands of hair on your face and put them back. "You scared the hell out of me."

"What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

You thought, and then sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Kaecilius."

Tony bit his lip nervously before speaking.

"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his hand to his own. "I came here as soon as I got the howler from Professor Strange, but honestly, I didn't even need it, because all the newspapers are talking about it."

"What...?" You started in confusion, but Tony hurried to explain.

"Wanda found you, Y/N." He told. "She, well, wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing. I think she lost control. Kaecilius is lucky to be alive if you ask me. She almost destroyed the seventh floor, it was a huge mess. And then the aurors interfered, and soon there were reporters everywhere. I guess now everyone knows she's a scarlet witch."

You widened your eyes, straightening to sit up and grumbling a little in pain. Tony looked at you with concern, asking you to take it easy, but you were already asking about Wanda.

"She's at the ministry of magic." He clarified. "Kaecilius is going on trial for torturing a student, and she will answer for putting everyone in danger."

" What?" you ask incredulously, and Tony sighs.

"Yeah I know it's unfair." He says. "But the minister of magic seems to be looking everywhere for people to blame for his lack of control. The problem is how much of that information will get to Mephisto. The whole ministry seems to be full of walkers."

You ran your hand across your face, frustrated.

"I'm so tired, Tony." You confess in a whisper. "It feels like everything is falling apart around me, and things are only getting worse."

Tony squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry, I really am. This whole situation sucks, and I wanted to help you. I'm trying, sister. I haven't been talking to you as much as I should, but I didn't want you to think you're alone. I'm working on breaking the bond. To free you and Wanda from the prophecy, and the wizarding world from dangers like Mephisto. I'm sorry I haven't been by your side."

You swallow your cry, and nod, trying to smile at Tony. He reaches up to hug you, and you gasp softly, taking a few seconds to relax and let the tears flow.

When you calm down, Tony tells you that he is going to get a Mediwizards to check your situation.

You lie down again, sighing softly. The memories come back with full force, and you choke softly, feeling your body tremble.

It's as if you can feel the curse again, sense the pain on your skin. Opening your eyes and shaking the memories away, you swallow dryly and reach for the glass of water on the nightstand.

You just want Wanda by your side telling you that everything is going to be okay.

//-//-//-//-//

You stay under observation for two days.

Doctor Hank makes a joke about you enjoying St.Mungus more than you should since you keep coming back, but Tony doesn't laugh.

Then you' re going back to Hogwarts by train, because the doctor thinks you shouldn't use magical means of transportation for a few days, and it's weird to take the empty express, but as soon as you arrive at the station, Gamora and Nebula are waiting for you with boxes of candy bought in Hogsmeade, and tight hugs.

You are not surprised by the stares you receive from the other students, but you ignore them as your sisters escort you around the castle to the Hufflepuff communal hall.

"Did you get to talk to Wanda?" Gamora asks as soon as you sit down on your bed, sighing with exhaustion from the train ride. The mention of the other sorceress' name doesn't help.

"Not yet." You say. "And I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she's ignoring me."

Nebula exchanges a look with her sister before sitting down on Mantis' bed, who is hugging her knees and looking at you.

"Honestly, I just want to finish this year without any more problems." You confess as you take off your jacket. And there is a moment of silence before you swallow dryly. "I also wanted to apologize to you guys."

Gamora frowns slightly, but says nothing. You take a deep breath.

"I know I was under the influence of an evil book, but that was still no excuse for treating you guys like that." You begin. "Tony told me about how things are in the wizarding world. Everyone is going through something, and it was selfish of me to think that only my problems matter. I'm sorry."

"Really, Y/N, it's okay." Nebula says, surprising you a bit. "We were all stressed, and well, I think an evil book is a pretty fair excuse." She jokes, making you smile. "Maybe things will get a little better now that Strange is the director."

"Oh, that's right" You comment just then remembering the things Tony updated you on while you were at St.Mungus. Like Kaecillius' resignation, and the position being passed on to Professor Stephen. "But honestly, I won't be at peace until I hear from Wanda."

"The trial isn't until Friday. And the way things are going, we won't get any news until it's over." Gamora warned as she sat down on the bed next to you. "I think the Maximoffs are probably too busy to write."

"What do you think will happen to Wanda?" You ask as you tug at the loose strands of the comforter. Mantis sighs lightly.

"I don't have a good feeling about things, Y/N." She confesses and you frown in concern. "And the stars never lie."

"Thank you, Mantis." You mock softly, and Gamora runs her hands through her hair.

"Let's not be pessimistic, okay?" she says. "Maybe the predictions are about, I don't know, the school finals? It doesn't mean something bad is really going to happen."

You grumble unhappily, grabbing a pillow and sinking your face into it. Gamora strokes your back.

"I'm sure things will work out, Y/N." She says. "Wanda will write as soon as she can."

"Do you guys think Kaecilius will be sent to Azkaban?" Nebula asks next, making you raise your head curiously.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You grumble. "I was actually surprised that he was put on trial at all."

"Well, with the whole mess that happened, it was bound to happen." Gamora said. "More than half the school became aware that he used the cruciatus curse on you, and then the daily prophet. And I didn't even know they were in the castle."

"It was because of Wanda really, wasn't it?" Mantis added. "Kaecillius caused his own ruin. He called the journalists to show what he called progress and decided to torture a student while they were in the castle. Then Wanda destroyed the entire floor and the next morning his arrest was all over the pages."

"I'm just really outraged to know that if no one had seen it, he would probably still be at Hogwarts." Gamora says angrily, and you sigh, agreeing as well as the others.

"Well, you must be hungry, shall we go to the great hall? It's almost dinner time." Gamora comments next, pulling you by the hand. You grumble softly, but agree, and soon you are leaving the communal hall to join the rest of the students.

//-//-//-//-//

You are tapping your fingers gently against the desk as you wait for the History of Magic class to begin.

It is Friday, finally.

You have barely slept because of anxiety about news of Wanda's trial.

Things at Hogwarts have changed a lot this week, all because of Strange's administration.

He restored the old classes, banned the teaching of dark magic, the scandal at the Daily Prophet being enough of an argument that the Minister of Magic no longer had a defense over this kind of teaching at Hogwarts. The restricted session of the library was also put back, and the seventh floor was off-limits because of the destruction Wanda caused, and you unfortunately lost access to the Requirement room.

Mantis was writing what looked like a lunar calendar for the divination class while Professor Okoye didn't arrive, and you started whistling distractedly.

And then Thor Odinson was poking you in the back to get your attention, and you turned around in your chair.

"Hi, Stark, what's up?"

"Fine." You grumbled suspiciously. "Can I help you with something?"

Thor looked almost unsure. "I was just wondering if you know of anything going on with Loki."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean if you know if he's sick or something." He explains. "We had a fight, and well, he's not talking to me. And I've noticed that you guys have been kind of close lately, and I was curious if you knew anything and..."

"No, Thor, I'm sorry." You interrupt with a sigh. "Maybe you should ask him that."

Thor assumes a sad expression. "I would, but he's ignoring me. I think it might be about our mother."

You make a confused expression, and Thor looks surprised.

"Our mother, she...died earlier this year, Y/N." Thor counters, and you widen your eyes. "Our family is a name of reference against Mephisto. With the war, the walkers came to our home. She was there while we were here, and Dad was at the ministry."

"I'm so sorry, Thor." You whisper to him, still shocked by the information. He shrugged.

"I thought Loki told you."

"We don't talk about things like that, I guess." You say. "Sorry, I wish I knew how to help you."

"No, it's okay." Thor says with a sad smile. "You being his friend this year is more than enough. I don't like seeing him all alone out here."

You nod lightly, settling into your chair as you notice the teacher entering the room.

Mantis exchanges a look of understanding with you, having overheard the conversation even if accidentally, but she says nothing, and soon you are hearing about the witch hunt in the United States, and you try to focus on that rather than curiosity about how Wanda's trial is going or Loki's current emotional state.

//-//-/-//-//-//

As soon as lunchtime begins, you join the Slytherin table, where some of the students have placed a radio on the table, equally with other students from the other houses, to listen to the trial.

You are not surprised that a student's trial is such an interesting topic for everyone, but after the school started talking about Wanda being a scarlet witch, and the theories circulating around the halls, it was to be expected.

So you sit back while biting your fingertips and listening.

"And now directly from the Ministry of Magic, the trial of seventeen-year-old witch Wanda Maximoff, daughter of legendary witch Erik L-"

Your attention is slightly diverted from the narrative when loud laughter catches your ears.

They are Gryffindor and Slytherin students, exchanging coins. You don't need to hear the conversation to know they are gambling about the trial, the mean laughter and glances in the direction of you and your sisters are enough.

And as if she could feel your growing fury, Gamora touches your shoulder gently.

"Just ignore them, Y/N." She urges and you clench your jaw. " Everything is going to be okay with Wanda."

"I hope you're right, Gamora." You grumble, turning your attention back to the radio.

The narration of the newspaper is generic, and you discover that the audience has been closed off to the reporters.

You take a deep breath, concentrating.

No strange feeling, so Wanda is safe.

You wonder if Erik and Pietro are by her side during the whole thing.

It is only at the end of lunchtime that you have the result.

"It's amazing how things unfold in the ministry this afternoon." Counted the reporter with almost excitement. "After a unanimous vote, the witch Wanda Maximoff was found guilty of endangering her fellow students by not registering as a scarlet witch to the ministry of magic, after it was proven that her father, the sorcerer Erik Lehnsherr knew of her condition, as well as the affiliation with the criminal, Agatha Harkness was also mentioned. The ministry finally decided on Wanda Maximoff's expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding"

You felt your stomach plummet.

And everything became a little muffled around you, a soft whistle in your ear. You think Gamora and Nebula were calling for you, but you were getting up, feeling the room getting too small.

Stumbling out, you loosened the knot of your tie, finally stopping in the courtyard as you leaned your body against a pillar.

Wanda had been expelled from Hogwarts, publicly exposed as a Scarlet Witch, and tried as a criminal. You wondered if they would break her wand. Banned wizards led horrible lives.

Your sisters and friends caught up with you quickly, and you let them hug you.

In a few minutes Director Strange is catching up with you as well, and you release Gamora's grip to talk to him.

"Professor, I need to..."

"You cannot leave Hogwarts, Miss Stark." He interrupts with a wave of his hands and you frown in confusion, ready to protest but he is already speaking. "Tony sent a patronus as soon as the results came out, he already figured you'd want to see Miss Maximoff. The ministry is a mess, and Wanda will be staying with her father there for the minister's final decisions. You should stay here, where you are safe."

"That's not fair!" You squawk angrily. "Wanda needs me, I must-"

"She needs you to be safe." He interrupts again seriously, and then lowers his tone slightly as he notices the curious looks of the surrounding students. "Be rational, Miss Stark. Now that the Wizarding community knows the nature of Wanda's powers, how long before Mephisto has enough information and discovers your identity as protector."

You swallow dryly, clenching your fists begrudgingly. Stephen is right. You look away, and he sighs, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Wanda will be fine, even without her NEWTS, she is an extraordinary witch." He says. "And the year is coming to an end, soon you will be able to see her again."

"She needs me now." You grumble annoyed, turning away from the professor's touch. He looks at you for a moment and then clears his throat.

"I'll see what I can do, Miss Stark." He says."In the meantime, focus on your studies, and be careful."

You frown at Stephen's words, but he is already turning and leaving before you can ask.

As you turn to your friends, Gamora has a worried look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, and you sigh, agreeing to hug her again as you mumble no.

"I can feel how upset she is, Gamora." You grumble against your sister's shirt, wishing you could hug Wanda now. Gamora squeezes you against her arms, and you thank her for her intention even if it isn't enough.

The next few days are like a blur for you.

Many letters arrive, as do many editions of the Daily Prophet.

When the picture of the day Wanda's wand was broken comes out on the front page and you see her tired face, you have to run out of the common room to keep from crying in front of your colleagues.

Everyone writes to you, even Carol, everyone but the Maximoffs.

It is frustrating, and honestly, it breaks your heart in many ways.

The news of a Scarlet Witch after a century is almost as bombastic as Mephisto's return, and you're not surprised that many of your colleagues would start to comment on the possibility of Wanda working with him or against him.

It's overwhelming how everyone talks about her, but all you can feel is how much you miss her around the castle, around you.

You couldn't even remember that your magic is stable, and with everything that has happened, you haven't had time to figure out how to fix things.

Stephen tried to help, but he didn't know what was going on. At least the theoretical part of magic you were able to master, and you hoped to get at least an acceptable score in some subjects.

Only almost a week and a half after the trial, Professor Strange interrupts the potions class to talk to you.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispers of your classmates, you ask Professor Munroe to excuse you, and leave the room.

"What is wrong, professor?" You ask curiously as you close the door, watching Stephen with his hands in his pockets.The dungeons feel emptier without the ministry aurors around the castle.

"Saturday, in the Astronomy tower, nine-thirteen at night." He says as he hands you a small gold key, causing you to frown in confusion. "You will have exactly one hour, Miss Stark. Not a second more."

You stare at the object in your hand, and understand. A portal key. To Wanda.

"Thank you, Professor." You say, and Stephen nods before leaving.

You turn back to potions, the object in your pocket. You could barely contain your anxiety.

//-//-//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny--freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

A/F/N> Place your bets for my next comeback (a week, a month or tomorrow?). If I delete the blog, and you're in love with this story for some reason I don't know about because there are so many better things to read, know that I'll post everything on AO3 if I ever do.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy #elizabeth olsen x reader #harry potter au

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

from home 01 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 7.1k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class?

a/n: i hate cliches but i also love them so i’m gonna write them lol also i know ‘from home’ is an nct song, don’t come @ me. in addition to that, i’m hoping i can expand my writing and be able to lengthen it as much as possible! (well... this chapter only has 7.1k but baby steps...)

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Jeon Jungkook is a disappointment.

Well, kind of. His four older brothers think so, especially when he comes stumbling at noon on a Thursday, hair disheveled, shirt buttoned all wrong, half tucked into his pants with the zipper down. “He’s already fucking drunk.” His second eldest brother, Jonghyun, hisses, standing up from the dining table of his parents’ home. They’re supposed to have a scheduled lunch together, and although Jungkook is surprisingly on time, he’s still intoxicated. Jungsik and Jongseok, his other big bros respectively, only shake their heads in their seats, finding this situation all too familiar. The baby does it again.

The oldest of them all, Junghwan, does nothing. His eyes say it all—the glimmer that once was evident in them was drowned, full of nothingness when he looks at his youngest sibling.

But their mom didn’t think of it that way. She spoiled Jungkook like crazy, to the point that he’s the way he is today. Mrs. Jeon saw potential in him the moment she birthed him in 1997; full of love, life, and glory, Jeon Jungkook was going to be off doing great things.

Yet, ever since Jungkook ripped into the age of 16, everything changed. He started smoking, cigarettes, weed, name it and Jungkook has done it. By the time he turned 17, he was experimenting with different types of alcohol, far and wide, and eventually moved up into sleeping with multiple women consecutively. Coincidentally, they’re rich from wealthy families with nothing but dollar signs in their eyes when they see Jungkook, his beauty just being a perk of the package. In spite of his women endeavors, he had enough respect for his mother not to bring them home.

“Mother,” Junghwan finally speaks up, voice stern and face hard. She comes peering out from the back, the house servants trailing behind her before they all realize the sight of Jungkook, clumsily tripping on his own feet, quickly running to his aid while his mother only gasps in horror. “Jeon Jungkook does it again. He can’t just come to a family lunch, no, that would be too easy. He has to do it while reeking of alcohol, on a weekday, all in broad daylight. This is what happens when you let your child run wild and do whatever they please with all the money in the world. They turn out like him.”

His words are harsh, but they don’t impact Jungkook like they used to. No, not after he discovered his love for vodka, whiskey... all of the above. He learned that before seeing any of his family members require at least a couple servings. Stepping into the Jeon’s residence means being criticized, words that come shooting at him like bullets and in the beginning, they pierced through his thin skin with ease, heart clenching in pain at the men he idolized and admired. His skin hasn’t thickened since then, but alcohol does a great job of numbing it all.

Mrs. Jeon glares at her eldest son, the next in line to take over the Jeon Corporation when their father retires. She loves all her kids equally, yet gifted Jungkook more attention than the rest. To be fair, she couldn’t help herself when she saw those pools of sweet chocolate called orbs, begging for her love and affection. “Jungkook, why are you drunk already, love? It’s only 12:30. You probably haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“But I’ve already had breakfast,” He slurs, the housemaids attempting to have him seated at one of the chairs at the dining table that extends from one end to the room to the next. Seat big enough for two people, he slides down in it, head falling to the side in drowsiness. “Mimosas. My favorite breakfast drink.”

“What’d you do? Champagne with a sprinkle of orange juice?”

“Mmm, didn’t have champagne. Worked with vodka instead.” The four men grimaced.

Their mother’s face softened at his response. “Jungkookie, baby. You can’t just come marching in here like this. We’re having a lunch, together, as a family. You’re lucky your father is coming here late, or else you would’ve been kicked out in seconds.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out in seconds,” Junghwan chimes in, expression unwavering. “This is ridiculous, Jungkook. You need to stop acting like some bachelor. What are you? Twenty-three? Kim Taehyung was that age when he proposed to his now wife. Yet you’re still fucking around with mom’s friends daughters who innocently are just looking for love. How reckless is that?”

“Junghwan.” Mrs. Jeon says through her gritted teeth, eyes shooting daggers at her son. “Stop it.”

“Hyung has a point, mom,” Jonghyun interjects, making his way toward Jungkook before sitting on the armrest of the chair beside the youngest one. “What has Jungkook even done other than come to every event drunk, spend all our family’s money, and fuck around with women he has no intention of marrying?”

Mrs. Jeon raises a brow at Jonghyun, sucking in her cheeks in disbelief. “You boys are acting like you guys have never been through this phase.”

“Mom,” Jungsik, the middle child and the most empathetic of all, attempts to console his mother’s anger toward his older siblings, humming soothingly. “We all got over that by the age of 21. Jungkook is twenty-three.”

Despite being completely under the influence, the pain is evidently still there. He regrets not drinking an extra glass or two of that make-shift mimosa. They speak of him as if he’s not even in the room, and it makes him feel sick. He knows this feeling well—and his stomach stirring isn’t from the alcohol. Jungkook can’t even look at his mom at the moment, a bit embarrassed by how all his brothers seemingly gang up on their mom just because she was defending him. He really felt like a baby.

“Well, what do you suggest I do? Tell him to get married? You wouldn’t want that, right, Jungkook?” He gazes at the table. Mostly because he doesn’t know what to say, especially if she’s suddenly taking suggestions. “I take that as a no. So it’s settled, there’s nothing we can do.”

“Why don’t you just like... cut him off?” Jongseok proposes, shrugging at his own idea. “I mean, just until he gets his act together. He’s not getting any younger, and if he actually put his brain to use, he could be part of the company, leading in a division. Jungkook isn’t stupid, he’s just acting it.”

At this point, Jungkook’s consciousness begins to fade, slumber creeping up and drowning him like quicksand. For the first time, he regrets consuming so much alcohol because when he’s awake, he’s sleeping on the couch of one of their family rooms with his mother sitting in an armchair, worry washed over her face.

“Mom?” He jerks up, pushing off the blanket that someone had laid on him while he was asleep. “Everything alright?”

“Jungkook,” She begins, and he can already tell it’s going to be bad news. “I think I’ve spoiled you too much. When I first saw you as a baby, I thought that you needed everything, and I wanted to give you everything. Your brothers just grew up so much more differently than you did, your dad wasn’t so swamped with the company and had an abundance of time with them before you came along.”

His mom doesn’t look over at him. She looks uneasy, something eating her insides, and he feels nothing but remorse for her. Jungkook wants to move closer in attempts to comfort her, but it seems that she purposely sat at that distance. “I thought that giving you everything you needed and more meant that I was giving you the things that your father couldn’t give you and look where you are now... wasted every single time you come home. You haven’t had any real jobs, and when I supported you during your modeling endeavors, you threw all of that away! And for what, Jungkook? I gave you everything... and now I feel like a horrible mother.”

“Mom,” He reiterates, his voice soft and apologetic. “You’re not horrible. You took care of me, defended me against all of my hyungs, and guided me through the hardest times of my life. But maybe you’re right, I can’t do it anymore. I’ll do better, mom—”

She finally turns to see him. Her eyes are bloodshot red from the tears, bags underneath them from years of taking care of her five sons that have increased over time from Jungkook’s shenanigans. “No. Jungkook, I’m cutting you off.”

He nearly chokes on his spit. “What?”

“I’ll give you an allowance every month. It’s not a lot, but it’ll be enough to get you by. You can stay in my studio apartment downtown; I haven’t been there in a while so it’ll require some sprucing up.” She places a manila envelope on the table with Jungkook’s name written across it, wiping the tear that streams down her cheek. “You need to learn to fend for yourself, Kook.”

The next morning, Jungkook finds himself lying flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his legs tangled in his satin sheets. Just like that, in an instant, he lost everything. He should’ve stayed sober before coming, or at the very least, took one shot of vodka rather than... well, a couple cups worth. Sleep didn’t come easy that night but the guilt crept in like a tsunami. All that went through his mind was how he let his mom down, her favorite son, and that she had to come to terms with this new arrangement. Disappointing his brothers was something he’d done continuously over the years anyway, so the chance of finally making them proud has gone out the window but with his mom, there was a little bit of opportunity left to show her that he wasn’t completely a fuck up.

“Thanks, Hyungjin.” Jungkook is grateful that his mom let Hyungjin drive him downtown, and to come up to help drop off his belongings. The older male nods, tipping his hat at him. Hyungjin had been Jungkook’s driver for as long as he could remember; from piano lessons, early and late school drives, to even his one-night stands, where Jungkook would panic call Hyungjin and he’d come almost immediately after. Although he’d hope to see him again, he knows that this may be the last time Hyungjin drives him. “I hope I get to see you again.”

“Of course you will, Mr. Jeon. If you prove yourself to your brothers, I’m sure that they’ll be more than willing to accept you back into the family with open arms.”

Jungkook scoffs, shoving the key to the apartment into the slot of the knob. “I wish. I’m sure they’ll find a way to still keep me out. They hate me, Hyungjin, and I don’t know what else I’m going to do.”

“No, no, Jungkook. They’re your brothers. They have nothing but love for you. Tough love, maybe, but love nonetheless.” Hyungjin carries a portion of the suitcases and bags when Jungkook opens the door to the apartment; the both of them sneezing and coughing abruptly once they step inside. The entire apartment was dusty, dark, and gloomy. The windows had these black long and heavy curtains that blocked any sunlight from seeping through, and the remains of his mother’s paintings and canvases sprawled all across the floor with splatters that coat the wooden floors and brick walls that all were collecting dust.

“Uh... I guess Mrs. Jeon isn’t tidy when her artistic side comes out.” Hyungjin jokes, eyes skimming around the apartment. He walks over to sink, turning the knob of the faucet on, and Jungkook doesn’t even notice that he’s holding his breath until he releases it when the water flows out of the spout. “Least there’s still water? I think your parents are still paying for this place.”

After shoving as much of Jungkook’s personal items into the apartment, Hyungjin brushes his hands off on his slacks, straightening his back afterwards. “Well, Mr. Jeon, congrats on the start of your new future. I know that technically I’m not supposed to drive you anymore, but... if you are in dire need of help, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Placing a hand on Hyungjin’s shoulder, Jungkook sighs. “Thanks, Hyungjin, really. It means a lot.”

After sending Hyungjin off, Jungkook does some scavenging. For one, there’s some plates in the cabinets that he could use for the time being. No shampoo, no loofah and... when he opens the fridge in the kitchen, his face scrunches up from a whiff of the odor. Milk. Of course, his mother left half a carton of milk in there and hasn’t been back for months. “Guess... I already need to go shopping.”

“Your total is going to be ₩62,636.00.” Packing the groceries that had been scanned into the brown paper bags that were stuffed into another plastic one, you push it down the line for the customer as she’s shuffling through her purse for her wallet.

“You know, I am the bag boy, right? I can do it.” Hoseok, a fellow co-worker of yours, comments at your actions, hooded eyes darting in your direction in annoyance. “I know you’re trying to be nice to me because Hyeri broke up with me last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of working.”

“Hush,” You demand, yet face blooming with smiles for the customer who replicates the expression, sliding the credit card into the payment terminal. “Have a good day!” You’d cry out with every receipt you handed to a customer as they’d walk out the store, slouching immediately afterwards from the exhaustion that washes over you. “I’m just trying to make today a bit easier for you, Hobi. I know how much she means to you.”

“You’re kidding right? I’m rich, I’m only working here because I’m trying to save some money up to leave that household but I haven’t left yet. I’m thinking of doing some type of yacht party tonight; drinks, girls, all my homies getting drunk, it’s a great way to truly mend my heart.”

You roll your eyes at the male, leaning back against the register. “If you keep spending your parents’ money like that, you don’t have to leave. They’ll just kick you out.”

He gasps. “I sure as hell hope not, not ‘til I’m ready.” Shaking his head at the thought, he freezes as his mouth gapes open. “Ah, speaking of. Mrs. Jeon actually cut off one of her children. Mostly because he’s a brat and needs to be taught how to be humble... and grateful... and maybe not to be such a dick.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow questioningly. “Which one? Is it the one you’re friends with?”

Hoseok wags his finger in disagreement. “Not friend, acquaintance. We’re party buddies, but he and I don’t talk deep things like you and me. But yes, it’s the baby of them, Jeon Jungkook.”

The name is familiar. His face is plastered on almost all of the billboards that you’d pass by on your route to work. Jeon Jungkook was one of the heirs of the Jeon Corporation, and his mother being the CEO of the supermarket and café chain you had been employed at. Despite all of that, he chose to go the path of modeling (from what you know, it’s just for fun and games), and did nothing to help his family out in their business. Although you never found yourself involved with the media, Jungkook was an image hard to get rid of. His news was everywhere, especially since you had no idea how to remove the Apple News notifications from your phone. Tech wasn’t exactly your strongest suit.

“Interesting. Well, that sucks for him. Can’t have it all.”

“You say that because you’re not rich,” He frowns, crossing his arms. “You’d be living a different life if you had some more money.”

Leaning over the counter, you tap Hoseok’s nose with your pointer finger. “And I’m okay with where I am. Working two jobs, saving up money for my dreams while paying off my student loans... I’m okay with that. Yes, I’m tired, and who wouldn’t kill to be rich, but let’s be honest here. Coming from money, and money that’s not yours, sound horrible.”

“And it is,” Someone sighs, dropping their groceries onto the conveyor belt. “Money that’s actually yours being spent doesn’t feel as fulfilling as when you’re spending someone else’s, but having them control how you spend it... well, it’s not the best.”

“I mean, I feel great knowing that I earned my own money and—“ As you turn to meet with this customer, you’re speaking to the devil himself. Jeon Jungkook. “—oh, uh, Hello.” Magazines, pictures on the internet, billboards... all of them do not do Jungkook any justice because he’s not just gorgeous in person, but he looks like perfection on legs. The way he pushes his long locks back when they begin to irritate his eyes, his skin is milky smooth, supple and soft, and when he shoves his hands into his pockets afterwards, all you can think about is how his arms flex in the sleeves of his T-shirt.

“Kook,” Hoseok greets, forehead crinkled in confusion as he extends his hand for a shake. “What... why are you here? I’ve never seen you at a supermarket before. Doesn’t your personal chef take care of those things for you?” He’s feigning ignorance, afraid that his assumptions of Jungkook’s withdrawal from wealth is only gossip spread by the middle aged women. Jungkook lets out another heavy sigh, shoulders dipping in disappointment. “Well, you probably heard from your mom... who heard from my mom. She kicked me out. Cut me off. So... I’m trying to fend for myself now and get some groceries for dinner tonight.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh, my mom used to have an art studio downtown. She’s too busy to go there anymore, so she paints at home now. So the studio is pretty much abandoned... therefore I’m residing there now. I’m also getting an allowance every month to live off of.”

You snort. It was truly an accident, but the words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth were unbelievable. His mom made him leave the house yet gifted him an apartment and an allowance? Does anyone even consider this as being kicked out? “I’m sorry,” He turns to look at you. “Is something funny?”

“I... thought you said she cut you off?”

Without saying it, his face contorts to a visual version of an, And?

“Well, if your mother really cut you off, you wouldn’t even have an apartment. You’d be living on the streets or sleeping on your friends’ couches in rotation. Trust me, I know, I’ve been there. And you’re still receiving an allowance from them?”

Jungkook thinks he doesn’t realize that you’re from a wealthy family as well. “You... have been cut off of your family money and kicked out?”

Hoseok bursts in a laugh, hand in front of him in an attempt to stop himself before apologizing. “Ehem, sorry. She’s never been cut out, her family isn’t well-off in the first place. She’s trying to say she did the latter, sleeping on her friends’ couches on rotation. Me being one of them.” As you’re scanning his groceries one by one, sliding them down to Hoseok, he bags them quickly and efficiently as Jungkook’s eyes dazes off in amazement at his skill. “You... said you’re still getting an allowance from her?”

Jungkook nods but he’s completely immersed by yours and Hoseok’s quick movements, shuffling through the bags and scanning the items. When his toothpaste doesn’t beep, he watches as you start typing in some group of numbers into the register. The system recognizes it immediately before you turn back, resuming into your previous actions. He admits that this isn’t the first time he’s been in a supermarket, but the last time he remembered stepping foot in any of his mom’s businesses was probably before he hit puberty.

“So that’s going to be... ₩113,552.00.” Hoseok looks up when he realizes that Jungkook hasn’t moved from his position. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook shakes his head from his daze, quickly rummaging through his pockets for his wallet. “Sorry, I was just... you guys are really good at that.”

“At what?” You ask, confused with your brows furrowed.

He gestures the register and bags with his chin as he pulls out his wallet. “The whole... register thing. You guys move fast and... expertly. Where’d you learn to do that?”

You and Hoseok freeze. It’s weird to hear, exclusively forthcoming from someone who’s known to be arrogant, and yet the expression on his face is genuinely impressed by the show the two of you had just put on for him. “Uh... basic training? They just give you some tips and you just do it.”

“That’s it? It’s that easy?” He says, eyes bulging from his head at the simple response.

“Well, I wouldn’t say easy,” Hoseok rephrases as Jungkook inserts his credit card into the system. “It gets tiring when your shift gets long. But the task itself isn’t difficult, just becomes brutal.” You shake your head in affirmation, wiping the counter down with a rag. “Don’t look down on your local grocery store employees! Where else would you get your groceries without them to help you?”

He laughs, and he’s so pretty when he laughs, but what subsequents after his laugh isn’t so... pretty. “I won’t, but I don’t think I’d ever work in a supermarket either. Not really for me. I think I have more potential than... everyone here.”

Hoseok eyes his friend quizzically. “Uh... I didn’t think I would be either. I didn’t choose to work here, you know. I want to move out eventually, so I’m saving money. Do you think she chooses to work here too? No. This is temporary for us, Kook. But even so, there’s people who have to work here because it’s how they put food on the table.”

He only shrugs. “I guess. I just think I can do better than this. Thanks for the family discount though! Even though the allowance my mom gave me paid for it.”

And with that, he leaves.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” You jeer, completely appalled by Jungkook’s comment. “Is it because he’s the boss’ son? Is that why? That’s so ridiculous, why didn’t I say something—“ Hoseok interrupts your rant with the sound of your name soothingly coming out of mouth. “Let him be. I believe in karma and it’s going to bite him in the ass later.” You let out a dejected sigh, caving into his words. “On another note... you’re coming to my yacht party right?”

You hate Hoseok for luring you here.

He’s got chicks in bikinis, dancing away with their drinks swaying in their glasses, waists so thin you could wrap your hands around them. Guys are lounging, admiring the view of both the sea and the women, alcohol also accompanying their hands, whispering things here and there when they catch a sight of you— jeans and a crop top. You were not going to let Hoseok see you in a bikini, no matter how nice he is to you. He’s still a slob at heart.

When Hoseok spots you through the crowd, he hollers your name. “Oh my gosh! You actually came! I’m so stoked! Which text convinced you to come? I did all those things, just in case any of them are actually the reason why you came.”

hoseokie [1:03PM]: pls come to my party hoseokie [1:03PM]: we’ve got tacos hoseokie [1:04PM]: we’ve got white claw hoseokie [1:05PM]: we’ve got pigs in a blanket hoseokie [1:05PM]: we’ve got some weird hors d'oeuvres hoseokie [1:06PM]: we’ve got fresh fish hoseokie [1:07PM]: we’ve got... mini sandwiches?? idk i’m running out of nice things to mention hoseokie [1:09PM]: what about.... chick-fil-a? i know chicks dig that hoseokie [1:09PM]: i take that back, i know you’re into the feminist thing and don’t like it when i say collectively chicks like something

You frown. He’s so annoying.

hoseokie [1:12PM]: attachment 1 image

Ah. There it was. The true reason why you’ve decided to come.

The picture mostly shows the food that sits at the table, but the angle that Hoseok takes it from gives you a glimpse of the kitchen, a delicious glance because right there is a take for inspiration for your own that you’d like to see for yourself. With that, you figure you’d hit two birds with one stone; getting to steal an idea for a small kitchen and celebrate Hoseok’s... breakup? You’re not even sure what this is for.

“Uh, where’s the kitchen? I want to wash my hands.”

He’s kind of drunk, so you’re thankful he doesn’t probe for more information, like why the kitchen and not the bathroom. “Downstairs. Do you need me to take you?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You grin, walking in the direction he points afterwards. On route to the kitchen, you spot the catering of Chick-Fil-A. Guess he kept to his word after all.

That’s when you spot him.

Jungkook is sitting on one of the white leather couches that Hoseok’s yacht is built with, arms resting on the top of the seat while surrounded by women who giggle with their hands on his chest with hearts coming from their eyes in admiration. “Kook-ie, you’re so funny! Who knew someone like you would have such a beautiful personality!”

You have to swallow the vomit that’s begging to leave your body.

Finally downstairs, you get to see it yourself with your own eyes. It’s beautiful. So beautiful that you can’t believe that a room can look this beautiful, and on top of that, it looks untouched. Reaching the stove, you almost hold in your breath from all the excitement forming in you, pulling the handle out to peek inside. “Jesus, stainless steel, great for cleaning, so much space, enough for inventory, and so much wattage—”

“Are you getting turned on by a stove?”

Fuck. Slamming it the oven shut, you abruptly straighten yourself. “Uh, no.” Turning to see the owner of the voice, you frown at the sight. Of course, with your luck, it’s Jungkook. “I’m just really curious on how people do their kitchens. I wanna open a bakery and want some ideas on how to work with a limited amount of space.”

Your breath hitches at the view; the shirt he has on is barely even buttoned, exposing his toned chest, and his hair is slicked back with a comma curl that hangs over his forehead. His lips are pink and plump, arms are tight in their sleeves, and when he leans over on the counter across from where you stand, the smile that tugs on the edges of his mouth is so pretty. “Hire an interior designer. Why do you need to do it yourself?” His breath already reeks of alcohol, and the drink in his hand almost screams that it’s not going to be his last either. “I don’t have the money for it.”

“Sure you do, you have two jobs. Why do things yourself when other people can do it for you?” You roll your eyes at him. “Because, unlike you, I have student debt. I need to pay for that and start a business. It’s not easy. I need to make a profit somewhere.”

He shrugs before saying nonchalantly, “I’ll pay for you.”

“With what money?” It comes out faster than you expected, but it’s too late to back down now. “With the money my mom gave me,” He responds calmly, tapping his fingers against the counter. “It’s more than enough to start a business.”

You nearly piss your pants. His mother’s allowance was enough to fucking start a business. Jungkook was indeed not in lack of resources and with the way his mom was taking care of this meant he will never truly learn responsibility.

“Are you kidding me?” You’re almost gasping for air. “Your mom gives you that much money for an allowance? What are you? I thought she was cutting you off. At this rate, you’re never going to actually be an adult. How are you even going to prove to her that you’re capable?”

He gets up from the counter, startled by your sudden outburst. “What makes you think I’m incapable?”

“You were just about to give me money to start a business. This is the second time you’ve met me, Jungkook. You don’t even know me. You don’t even know what the business is for, what my plans are, and where it’s going to be. You were just going to throw away good money without even having any knowledge of what it’s going to be used for!”

Unsure what to say, he speaks the only thing that comes to mind. “I trust you because you’re friends with Hoseok, and well, I trust Hoseok.” How could a guy with five older siblings who all went to prestigious ivy league universities, including attending one of them himself, be so gullible and naïve?

“That means nothing, Jungkook. All it means is that we have a mutual friend. I can’t stand kids like you, strutting around with all the money in the world without knowing what to do with it. You have no real responsibilities, no real life plan, no dreams— nothing! All you do is fuck around and get drunk. What a fucking waste of space.” You shake your head before climbing up the stairs out of the lower level of the yacht, heated from Jungkook. He hasn’t actually said or done anything actually wrong yet you can’t help but hate him. Jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and all you can think about is how you were born with a plastic one instead.

You’re not actually anyone to Jungkook. No, not really, especially since yes, like you mentioned before, it’s only the second time he has met you. Whether or not if the proposal for paying for those things were serious, he wasn’t sure why he made you upset so easily.

But it hurt. Those things you said really hurt— more than when he speaks to his brothers.

So he drinks. He drinks the pain away or just enough that it fades to the point he doesn’t notice it as much anymore.

When you catch him slouched on the couch alone, cheeks flush pink from what you assume is from the beer sitting in his hands loosely, guilt washes over you. Without much thought, you’re already making your way to the innocent looking boy, buttoning his shirt up and tearing the can from his grip. You figured you’d take him home, it’s the least you can do after flipping him off earlier.

With Jungkook’s arm draping over your shoulder, you wince when the button on his sleeve tugs on your necklace. “Jungkook, could you at least try lifting yourself up so I’m not doing all the heavy lifting here?” He doesn’t say much but mumbles with drool coming out from the side of his mouth, emitting a whine from you.

“Oh my god, is that Jungkook?” Mrs. Jeon drops the book she reads in what seems like a living room, rushing toward your side before Jungkook vomits again on the marble floor. “Hana! Nayeon! Please come clean this up— quickly, quickly, please.” She pulls his other arm over her shoulder, tugging him along with you before reaching the couch, letting him settle down easy. If she wasn’t here, you would’ve thrown him on it. “Sorry CEO Jeon, I wanted to take him back to his place but... I didn’t know where he lived and I didn’t really feel comfortable leaving him by himself like this. So... I googled your estate and here we are.”

She gives you a pained smile, clenching your heart at the same time before she’s draping a blanket onto Jungkook’s sleeping body. “Would you like some tea?”

It feels weird sitting on a tall stool chair at a marble countertop island in such a huge kitchen. There was more than enough space to hire a staff sized for a large wedding venue, and truth to be told, you were jealous of the appliances that were stocked. If only you could touch the deck oven, just one touch...

Mrs. Jeon says your name for the first time since you’ve introduced yourself, interrupting your thoughts. “Ah, yes, CEO Jeon?”

“You keep calling me that. Do you perhaps work at one of my franchises?”

Rubbing the sides of the mug full of tea anxiously, you nod. “Two, actually. I work at one of the supermarkets down in Seoul, and a café at the University. I admire your plans and how you treat your employees, so I based my search on that.”

There’s a smile that jumps upon her lips, and it’s genuinely full of joy in comparison to the one she shares when you dragged Jungkook in. “A hard-working class citizen. I love that.” She brings the mug to her lips, taking a sip of her tea before sitting it down gently. “You brought Jungkook here. Are you two... an item, maybe? I’ve never seen him bring anyone home.”

Hastily, you wave your hands in front of you in denial. “Oh, no, no, CEO Jeon, we are not. If anything, I brought him home.” You pause for a moment as she eyes you carefully. “Oh, wait, no, not like that, I meant brought him to his home, here. Not to my house. Gosh, no, that’s weird.” Mrs. Jeon laughs, leaning back, almost stumbling off her seat and you were already set on your toes in preparation to catch her. “Geez, my son displeases you that much? Honestly, I wouldn’t be so opposed if you told me that you both were in a relationship.”

You blink. “Really? Why’s that? I kind of expected you to hope for him to go for someone who’s a bit more... accustomed to this lifestyle? Not that there’s anything wrong with it... I just... this is a bit different.”

Although you had been preoccupied with dragging Jungkook into the house, there was no missing in the way their home looked. Chandelier hanging in the hall off the ceiling with crystal-like features that you were sure were actually authentic diamonds, walls and floors were marble and granite, portraits and paintings that hung on the walls were originals, and the size of the home itself was... breathtakingly prodigious. The kitchen alone was a prime example— from your own personal research and knowledge, the appliances were top tier products of the industry, only the best of the best were able to afford it. Not to mention that the dimensions of the kitchen was about four times the surface area of your apartment.

Mrs. Jeon shakes her head in lack of approval, tapping her fingers against the ceramic cup. “No, I want my sons to go for love that they feel is real. But for Jungkook, I always hope for more than just that, someone who can teach him that this life of luxury isn’t necessarily everything. He hasn’t found anyone yet, or at least, I still hope it’s you, but I figured cutting him off the money would be the next best option.”

You tilt your head to the side, mouth open in hesitation. “But... you didn’t cut him off. Jungkook still gets an allowance.”

“Yes, but—“

“Sorry to interrupt, but isn’t that defeating the purpose? Like... you want Jungkook to go off and learn responsibility and what it means to be a functioning adult yet you’re still giving him money. I don’t want to criticize but...” You’re expecting her to jump at the chance to interject, mention something about how you’re overstepping, but she does nothing. Instead, her shoulders slouch and she frowns. “Am I doing this wrong? Should I take his allowance away?”

Honesty seems like an iffy noun to act on at the moment, but you speak words with it, nonetheless. “CEO Jeon, don’t get me wrong, you are a great person. But if you’re trying to teach your egotistical and spoiled-rotten son some life lessons, putting a step stool down for him isn’t going to make it any better.”

“It was you, wasn’t it!” Jungkook exclaims, stomping into the supermarket with his face flushed red with anger, hair pushed back with a vein popping out on his forehead. He has his pointer finger directed at you, startling Hoseok as he shoves Jungkook’s finger down. “Ok, I get you’re mad, but no pointing please. You may proceed.”

He scoffs. “She did this, you know. My mom cut me off. Completely! Done, I’m so done for. How the hell am I supposed to pay for anything? All she gave me was the money I earned from those modeling gigs in the past. What the hell is that going to do for me two months from now?”

“Uh... I don’t know, get a job?” You say sarcastically, unfazed by his fit of temper. If childish is how he’s going to act, he might as well embarrass himself while he’s at it. “It’s not my fault that she decided to actually cut you off.” Jungkook doesn’t get the right to come in here, full of flames just because of something you suggested to his mother the night he blacked out. He doesn’t, especially not after you learn from Mrs. Jeon why she wants to do this in the first place.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to get a job?”

Hoseok stares at Jungkook blankly for a moment before pointing to a sign behind him, taped to the wall with big letters printed.

CASHIER FOR HIRE @ THE JEON MARKET! PLEASE SEE AN ASSOCIATE FOR DETAILS ON HOW TO APPLY!

Jungkook lets out a heavy breath of defeat, falling back against the counter, fingers raking his strands of hair back stressfully. “Fuck, fuck...” He closes his eyes, head falling back. “... Fuck.”

It’s barely even the start of his first day and he’s presently on the verge of throwing another hissy fit when the apron doesn’t tie around his body like it does for the other workers. “Are you fucking—”

Snatching the fabric from his hands, you can see through Jungkook’s orbs that he’s ready to pounce at you for doing that, but you’re already standing on the tip of your toes as he dips down unconsciously for you while pulling the loop over his head. “This is so much easier when you’re calm, cool, and collected enough to think like a sane person.” He mutters a quick thanks, jutting out a puff of air from his lips. “Also, tie your hair up, will you? It doesn’t look professional.”

“Professional?” He scoffs, shaking his head as you’re slipping off the hair band that’s on your wrist, handing it over to him that he grabs unwillingly. “This place is far from professional. It’s a freaking goddamn supermarket.”

“It’s just... in your face and we have an employee handbook that wants your hair out of your face so the customers can see your lovely smile.”

“You think my smile is lovely?” His heart is warm at the compliment but it quickly fades when you respond, “No, it’s how it’s worded in the handbook. I’m only quoting what I read.”

“Why are you helping me anyway? I thought you didn’t like me.” This was true, notably since you’ve last spoken to him was with fury and fire in your eyes. But you merely just roll your eyes this time, turning away to turn the dial on your locker, pulling a slip of paper out to hand to him. “I was assigned to train you. Here’s your locker combo. Don’t think I’m doing this to be nice to you.”

“I’m still trying to understand what I did wrong that made you hate me.”

Tying your own hair back in the magnetic mirror that hangs on your locker door, there’s clips in your mouth to push your bangs back and Jungkook can’t help but find the action so... attractive. After taking the bobby pins from your mouth and slipping them into your hair, you straighten your shirt before turning to face him. “Because I can’t stand entitled people. And you are one of them.”

His mouth drops and closes several times before he finally gets the guts to speak up. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” Tugging the apron over your head and knotting the strings behind you, you inhale sharply afterwards. “I know that you’re the CEO’s youngest son, the bachelor, who basically doesn’t really do anything but freeload off his parents and spend their money. You’ve never had a real job before today and if I’m being totally honest, I kind of expect you to fail.”

“To fail?” He exasperates, his posture stiffens, in disbelief of your perspective. “I haven’t even started the job yet and you had this image of me build up before I even get the chance to clock in.”

“Speaking of, come here, I’ll show you how to clock in.”

Trailing behind you to a mysterious machine that hangs on the wall, he can’t help but attempt to sink everything in around him. He’s in the back of a supermarket, his mother’s supermarket, one of many, dressed in their uniform with his luxurious hair tied back, hidden away from all the people to admire. The locker room has flickering melancholic lights that he realized are unflattering when he looks at himself in the mirror earlier, and the people here drag their legs when leaving through the double doors to start the shift, all the way to the end.

“Hello, Earth to Jungkook?” You wave your hands in front of his drifted gaze, frowning at his sudden daydream.

“I can’t believe that it’s gotten this bad. I have to work... like a real job. I’ve never had a job in my entire life.”

“Well, yeah. I mentioned that just moments ago.”

His stare shifts to you, worry written all over his face. “I’m above all of this, above all of the people working here. I know what it’s like to be happy—I have money for god’s sake, I don’t need any of this. I could be working some corporate job right now that requires less effort.”

“Jungkook, I haven’t even started the training yet.”

He still hasn’t learned how to clock in before a shift yet and he’s already prepping to quit this job.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gyukultfics

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 2 years

Note

Who would force reader to have a family? It may be to improve their behavior by relating it to the maternal, as a means of chaining her because she could not easily run away pregnant, or because they would become dependent because of the pregnancy.

This ask was defiantly one of the harder ones. I’m gonna focus on the four worst practitioners of this ideology. Though I did include some extra nations that would do it.

Sweden: It doesn’t matter whether or not hustru gets pregnant or not, motherhood is in her future. This family would already be prepared in the form of Bernard’s two sons, Sealand and Ladonia.

These two boys will act as an extra set of eyes to help keep hustru in place. They snitch, alter, and prevent hustru from gaining any advantage. Their time together could potentially lead to a mother-child relationship, but it would take a while and with lots of pushing from Bernard.

Over time, there is a chance that hustru would become pregnant. He would enjoy how hustru would be needier. The clinginess and dependence would cause his heart to soar. Each wish of hers would be fulfilled without question, as long as it's within reason.

This would be a rare time where the relationship would appear true.

Russia: As a traditionalist, it should surprise no one that Viktor would like children. Children not only are a symbol of their union but something that can lead to some of the proudest moments of his life, so he’s been told. This has also been boosted since the Russian government is pushing for an increased birth rate. (At least last time I checked)

As a yandere, this desire feels like a need.

Viktor would enjoy the pregnancy as it makes it harder for родная to fight back. Morning sickness, vertigo, random pains, and overall discomfort will cause her to rely on Viktor. Each time, she comes to him, Viktor feels like a true husband. Finally, being able to care for his wife brings him happiness.

England: Similar to Jin, Oliver would feel robbed of children. Dearie would not only be the love of his long life, but the perfect woman to have children with. Oliver would lament to his Dearie about how colonies would be a close substitute that quelled his desire for a while. The way each of them left though, and some shedding blood on the way out.

Children, Oliver would argue, of his own flesh and blood wouldn’t. They would be connected by something stronger than governments and allyship.

In the end, there would be no arguments. They would create children.

The calm nine months would be a treat for Oliver. They would act like a true married couple lost in marital bliss. He, the faithful husband doting on his wife, and Dearie, the wife glowing with a swollen belly. The two would imagine what their children would look like and pick out names.

Though underneath would still be tenseness and the occasional delusion of perfection for this family unit. Oliver would be as watchful as ever, after all just because she waddles doesn’t mean she can’t attempt to run.

Turkey: Koray understands how children can unify a marriage. After all he’s lived through a lot of sultans and kings. He’s seen how many of their relationships improved with children around. Those same children also helped many mothers recognize the power and protection their husbands can offer.

Koray enjoys the pregnancy, because of how Güzel becomes more submissive. She no longer screams at him but instead is scared of Koray leaving her alone. She accepts the food he makes for her and even asks him for food to satisfy her cravings.

It’s nice and allows Koray some time for peace. His guard never drops enough for a successful escape, but he will admit he enjoys the more relaxed atmosphere.

Additional Nations that Would: South Italy, China, Cameroon, Poland

#2p yandere #2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p england #2p russia #yandere #yandere hetalia #2p turkey #2p sweden

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

deathly dry spell — jjk

Plot: When Taehyung is away for months on a trip in the peak of winter, alternative methods of keeping a succubus pleased comes into play.

Pairing(s): Jungkook x Succubus!OC (Name: Belle) ft. Boyfriend Taehyung

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2k+

Genre: Succubus AU | Roommate AU | PWP

Tags & Warnings: explicit smut, spanking, squirting, unsafe sex, coarse language, succubus being angry horny

Authors Note: idk what’s happening with my writing streak lately but I’m kind of just going with the flow and hoping you all like it lmao let me know what you think!

Another frustrating morning. Belle had taken pills to suppress some of the aching in between her legs but they were only aggravating the hunger. Even her ivory horns began to ache from the increasing frustration and her breasts felt tender than ever before. Winter was always the worst time for her to be away from him. The grey sky framed by the apartment windows and cool atmosphere stinging her flesh made her desperate for warmth. No. Heat. She wanted burning heat everywhere.

“I’m going to be gone a couple of months, sweetheart,” Taehyungs’ voice crackled through the speaker.

“Months?” Belles’ dark brows furrowed looking through the computer screen as her boyfriend delivered the disturbing news. His curls were messy and a loose shirt draped over his body, making her heat up between her legs even more. In turn, increasing her frustration towards him for being so far apart.

If it were a normal relationship with two humans then they would probably just be very saddened. Unfortunately leaving your succubus girlfriend for a couple of months isn’t exactly safe. Especially if you’re desperate to want her faithful. She let out a deep sigh, staring out again at the heavily clouded sky. It was probably going to snow a lot this winter. She clamped her thighs together, cuddled into a crème blanket. “Tae—I can’t.” She buried her lips into the fluffy material. “Maybe I could come visit you.”

“You know why you can’t visit me here.” Taehyung didn’t sound too happy about the ordeal either but Belle had too much on her mind to feel bad for him. “These idiots don’t like magical creatures and you’ll be in danger.”

“But I can’t—”

“I had a suggestion.”

Belle blinked curiously. “What?”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip, unsure of the thoughts rushing through his mind. “If you start feeling pain or sick at all—Jungkook could—”

“No.”

“You know it can’t be negotiated.”

“No!” she winced.

Taehyung sighed. “Baby…I can’t have you in pain.”

“Well that’s just you have to live with for leaving me.” She sniffled, scrunching her nose as the cold stung her. “Does Jungkook even know about your decision?”

“I kind of mentioned it to him.” Taehyung scratched the back of his head.

Belle’s eyes burned into him. She understood that there was no other choice if she wanted to survive the winter. But to take part in this pact felt so wrong. “So you just discussed it like it was some kind of business transaction.” Her feelings were indifferent. Some part of her still wanted to pretend that she was against it. Succubi were always known to become disloyal to their partners. If she took part in this thing, she’d be one of them.

“You—” Sadness spread across Taehyungs’ face; eyes glossed and features twisted in pain. “—you’ll die. Please…I want to come back home to you alive and well.”

Belles’ expression softened, tightening the blanket around her as she averted her gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

It kept getting colder and her body kept getting painful. Belle didn’t remember the last moment she sat still. Not having to squirm somehow to be comfortable. Spending nights rubbing against pillows to get some kind of tension but only sleeping with tears filling her eyes. This morning wasn’t helping her mood either when Jungkook made food for the both of them to eat.

Belle hadn’t talked to him ever since the call with Taehyung. Except that didn’t mean Jungkook stopped making an effort to keep some kind of interaction going. Forcing a dinner on them was one of his genius attempts.

Roasted potatoes, chicken curry, spinach paste and a blueberry pie. Hearty enough meals for Belle to sustain herself when she couldn’t be filled in other ways. The scent suffused the cool air, making it homely and comforting. In her stubbornness though, Belle leaned back on the chair as Jungkook tried to start a conversation.

“You’re just not going to talk to me.” Jungkook shook his head.

Belle folded her arms over her chest refusing to eat a morsel of food. It smelled delicious to a point where it could even make her mouth water.

“Look I know you’re hungry.” He gestured to the meal. “If you’re not going to do it the way you have to at least eat the way humans do.”

Belle glared at him. “Don’t act like this is an inconvenience to you. I didn’t ask for your goddamn help!” She never snapped at Jungkook. Or anyone for that matter. Then again, she hadn’t gone this long from getting her sustenance.

“It’s not an inconvenience. I don’t want to see a friend hurt like this.”

“But you’re willing to treat me like a bet in a club.”

Jungkooks’ expression hardened. “Sex means life and death to you, does it or does it not?”

Belle pressed her lips together. “Yes,” she muttered.

“Then why the hell would we not take it seriously?” He stabbed the fork into the chicken. “I can’t force you to get what you need. But I’m sure as hell not letting you leave until you eat something.”

She wanted to stay relentless and keep her arms folded. Except the meal might help sleep at night better at the very best. With a defeated sigh, she relaxed herself and began to eat.

“Stop squirming,” Jungkook said.

Belle scoffed, slouching on the couch after a good hour of trying to get into a comfortable position. Even the winter chills were turning into mere summer breezes from the way her body kept heating up. It was strange to have light snow falling outside and her body was adorned with a nightie. “I can’t get comfortable, alright? If you don’t like it, just go to your room.”

“This is my apartment too.”

“And you have a TV in your room.”

“But I want to be here.”

“Then stop complaining.” Belle shifted when the pooling between her legs was getting heavier.

Jungkook scoffed, raking his fingers through his hair roughly. “You know, I didn’t realize you had the potential to be such a bitch.”

“Well, we’re learning a lot of things, aren’t we?” Belle smiled bitterly. “Like how you have absolutely no patience whatsoever.”

“Sorry I’m not Taehyung keeping check on you like you’re a toddler.”

Thick scents of amber suffused the air and taunted Jungkooks’ nostrils. He tried not to scrunch his nose too much but it was strange not smelling the usual jasmine scent from her body.

“Just cause I don’t function like you humans doesn’t mean you get to demean my needs.” Belles’ voice had gotten deeper, eyes burning in anger and frustration. “Especially you. Acting like the nice best friend to Taehyung for months on end but the moment you have time alone with me, you act like I don’t exist. You’re no different than those people Taehyung works with—”

Jungkook grabbed the back of her neck and pressed a kiss on her lips. The desperately loyal part of Belle screamed to pull away. But whenever she tried, the warmth of another’s lips and the grip on her neck only caused her to whimper. He pulled away then. Chests rising and falling in the new brewing heat.

Belle hated her body for trying to grab onto him again. She tried to muster a frown. “Did you just do that to shut me up?”

“I can’t watch you ruin yourself.” Jungkook tightened his grip into her hair. “So please, for the love of god, fuck me.”

Like a trigger pulled on a gun, Belle pounced on the male, lips crashing against each other as her hands moved down to pull her panties off. She threw the flimsy material on the floor without a care before moving to straddle the male on the couch.

Jungkook pushed down his sweatpants and boxers, bare skin meeting the soft surface of the couch.

Belle raised herself until she felt his tip position at her sloppy entrance. She slid down slowly, the almost nonexistent sleeve of her nightie slipping down her shoulders. Without waiting a second longer, Belle moved up and down his cock, snug walls hugging him perfectly. There was no more time to wait. She didn’t want to wait.

He pushed up her dress, kneading her ass and forcing her hips to grind against his own. “F-Fuck…”

Belle threw her head back, hands placed on the back of the couch. Her breasts bounced along with her movements, nipples peeking out a little.

Jungkook growled lightly wrapping his strong arms fully around her waist before pounding up in to her pussy. He moved at a dizzying pace, balls slapping against her ass like a round of applause.

The sounds drowned Belle’s choked screams infused in an overwhelming pleasure as his lower belly roughly rubbed against her clit. “O-god.” She whimpered, gripping at the couch pillow until she scratched one of them.

Slowing his thrusts down, he moved deep inside her, feeling his cock drowning in her arousal. Jungkook kept his hold and turned them around so she was on the couch instead.

She immediately spread her legs apart watching him lean in and drink in her leaking core. Her hand moved to his hair.

Tongue lapped at her clit as he snuck a finger prodding at her slit. Jungkook slid inside with so much ease that a moan emitted in his throat. Then he slid another. Her heat burned against his flesh. Curling his digits upward, he rubbed against the spot inside her. His thumb brushing against her clit, he drilled his fingers into her pussy.

Belle let out a small sob in between her moans. Nails digging into her thigh as she watched her pussy spluttering out her arousal onto his hands moving at lightning speed. The pleasure coiled in her lower belly; tightening beyond control.

Knuckles deep inside her, he felt it getting hotter and more sloppy causing his member to spurt more arousal onto the floor. “That’s right, baby…” He whispered, dipping down and wrapping his lips around her clit, suckling like his favourite treat as his fingers continued to pound into her.

Belle’s body shook like insanity embodied, the heat gathering in her lower belly almost unbearable as she felt a heaviness ready to burst. “I’m gonna cum, Kook—” She cried out, thrashing against the messed up pillows.

The coil then sprung out in a light gush of clear liquid, squirting out of her as Jungkook kept moving his fingers in and out while suckling on her throbbing clit. He felt wetness dripping down his hand, soaking into the couch but it only made him hungrier for more as he growled against her puffy, sensitive pussy.

Belle winced from a slight ache as he continued to go beyond her sensitive point. “Ah-Kook-“ She pushed him away gently causing him to chuckle a little.

“We’re not done yet, baby.” Jungkook smirked, picking her up again, off the couch and turning her around. He bent her over so her breasts pressed against the wet stain. “Look at the mess you made.”

Belle replied in a whimper, swaying her ass his way until she felt his leaking tip brush against her. The stamped down pleasure reignited quicker than her own body could handle it. She wanted more. A sharp pain swung on her ass cheek causing her to let out a throaty chuckle as she swayed again. Much to her pleasure, Jungkook landed another swing on her ass cheek much harsher than the first. “Do it again.”

Jungkook obliged, slapping it once again. His tip rubbed in between her blushing cheeks to gain some friction when he landed another smack. Pressing his sweat layered chest to her back, he jabbed his glistening fingers through her lips. He hungrily watched Belle suckle on her arousal. Jungkook took a cheeky moment to push it down her throat until she gagged. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed onto her neck. “You want more?”

“Yes,” Belle whispered, desperately swaying her hips to gain his fill again.

“Yeah?” Jungkook pushed his length in, moaning at how much her walls still closed in on him, pushing him further over the edge. Veined fists pressed against the couch, slamming his hips against hers.

Belle rested her cheek against the soaked fabric. The smell of her own arousal made her mad with ecstasy, light groans emitted in her throat, her lower belly tightening again. The couch shifted and creaked at every thrust as her legs lost all ability to move properly.

Jungkook growled as the heaviness in his lower belly became hard to control, screaming to release. “I’m coming…” He breathed out.

“Come inside me.” Belle reached behind her to grab the back of his neck. “Please, come inside me,” she cried out.

Forehead pressing against the top of her head, Jungkook gave into frantic thrusts. Pleasure burst out of him in a thickened wave. Fingers dug into the cushion as a shaky moan passed his lips.

Belle grinned in complete bliss as her orgasm pounded through her, knees trembling and her body convulsing until she swore she saw stars. So many days of keeping herself contained. The proper pleasure of Jungkook filling her up brought her to tears, dripping onto the already ruined couch cushions. She giggled through her light sobs.

“Hey—” Jungkook brushed her hair away from her sweat-layered temple. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” Belle grinned, sniffling. “Thank you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “First time I’ve heard that after sex.”

The rest of winter moved a lot smoother and warmer for Belle and Jungkook.

#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #succubus au #bts succubus au #supernatural au #tw: smut #jungkook smut

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wakaoujisenhime · 3 years

Note

May I please request some angst with Kise being busy with basketball and modelling career neglecting his s/o? Additionally his s/o thinks he's cheating on them and just a big misunderstanding. Thank you very much 😊❤️

A/N: Even though I am quite late, happy Valentine’s Day! This actually got longer than I planned it to be, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Tags: Kise x reader ✅ angst ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Misunderstanding - Kise x reader

If someone had told you that you’d become the Kise Ryouta’s girlfriend some time ago, then you wouldn’t have believed it.

Kise was a young face everyone would’ve recognized if they had seen it somewhere in public. His blond hair was partially at fault for that as well, but the main reason for his immense popularity was his side job as a young model for different fashion and makeup brands. On top of that, he had been a part of the legendary Generation of Miracles, a group of six young and talented basketball players who each had an extraordinary and never-seen-before skill that could turn every game around. He was very fond of this sport and wished to steadily improve himself at every possible opportunity so of course, it was a given that he’d continue his training even after middle school.

Thinking about this handsome man and all of his achievements made you wonder just how lucky you were for being able to call him your boyfriend. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that the two of you went to the same school and were in the same grade, but never mind that, what surprised you the most was the moment he’d asked to meet you and then sheepishly confessed his interest in you and the wish to be by your side as your boyfriend. It was such a surreal situation that you couldn’t help but nod throughout the entirety of it.

The two of you didn’t know each other that well at first so the process of finding out everything possible about the other was quite fun and really made both of you forget about the stressful part of your daily lives. At first, you had expected that Kise was your typical playboy who’d just confess to anyone who met his preferences, but as time went on you actually saw past those prejudices of yours and were pleasantly surprised at how different he was than what you had imagined. He was a very caring, gentle, and nice guy who’d do anything to see you smile and hear you laugh or giggle. He made you feel like you were the only person in the entire world and that there was no one else he’d rather spent his time with than you. The surprises he prepared for you on special days such as Valentine’s Day or your own birthday were mind-blowing as well.

You of course made sure to always return that amount of love you’d received and his adorable reactions were the reason you felt like you’d fallen in love with him yet another time.

Everything was working out perfectly and the two of you were as happy as can be, but life, unfortunately, likes to ruin perfect moments like these...

The two of you were now third-years and Kise was slowly starting to think about his future plans, so he began taking on more modeling gigs during his free days, some of these even overlapped with the days on which you had planned a date. You were pretty understanding at first and even told him that you didn’t mind, but as these date reschedulings began occurring every single time it really made you sad. In fact, you were so sad that as soon as Kise mentioned having an upcoming free day you simply nodded and whispered a silent ‘I see.’

Nevertheless, you kept on visiting him during his basketball club’s training sessions and watched him steadily improve his performance with each passing day. His bright smile after every basket made your heart throb and a couple of weeks ago you would’ve interpreted it as a positive feeling but now? It simply pained you. Negative thoughts flooded your mind and is if that wasn’t enough, a group of his fangirls stormed the field moments after the referee had blown his whistle three times.

“Kise-kun, please look this way!!“

“Kise! Can you please sign my t-shirt?“

“C-Can I have your number please!“

Sights like these weren’t uncommon and you were used to ignoring them, knowing that Kise wouldn’t do anything that might upset you or his fans, but as of late situations such as these annoyed you. You sighed, stood up, and left the gym.

“(Y/N)! Wait up!“

At the sound of the familiar voice of your best friend, you obeyed his plea, turning back to the young man who was running up to you.

“Yukio! What’s wrong?”

He stopped right before you, greeting you with a small smile as he rubbed the back of his neck in slight discomfort.

“Is...Is something bothering you? Or more like...has everything been alright as of late? N-No that’s not it...Do you-”

“There’s no need to beat around the bush Yukio and you know it,” you say with a small smile as you gently bump your fist against his arm, “just tell me what’s been bugging you.”

He sighs in relief and you see how some tension leaves his shoulders as he asks you a rather surprising question: “I’ve noticed the tension between Kise and you, so tell me...what’s up with that? Do I need to step in and help you out with something?”

Yukio was quite perceptive, especially when it came to your and Kise’s relationship, he always made sure to keep up with your well-being since he knew how carried away your blond boyfriend could get. If it were any other occasion, you would’ve told your best friend what had bothered you so much, but now that you reflected on it, it seemed a rather meaningless reason for you to be upset over so you just shook your head lightly and brushed it off. Your counterpart on the other hand just squinted his eyes in suspicion but decided to let it go for now.

“Just make sure to tell him if something is worrying you, ok? Remember, communication is the key to every relationship.”

And with those wise words, he bid you farewell and jogged back to the gym...

“Hey...(Y/N)-cchi? Would you like to go on a date next Saturday?”

“..? Excuse me?”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes with equally surprised expressions and not short after you both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry Kise, I just didn’t expect you to invite me on a date, that’s all.“

Your boyfriend sat down next to you and took your hand in his own, gently caressing each of your fingers as he let his eyes roam around your facial features. Looking at him being that deeply lost in thought made you wonder just what was going through his mind. Usually, he’d try and avoid dating you in public or when it was still daytime because of the potential rumors and scandals it might start, so you couldn’t help but wonder just what brought this sudden change. With a rather sad-looking smile, he brought your hands to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles, his action causing your cheeks to redden ever so slightly.

“Hehe, sorry (Y/N)-cchi, it’s just...we haven’t been able to spend much time together and I need to tell you something important as well, so I thought that a date might be the best solution for this...”

Nothing he’d just said sounded good to you. Kise was rarely a person who’d organize something according to things he’d like to tell or discuss with you so the idea alone was a massive red flag for you. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seriousness with which he’d approached you, so despite the uneasy feeling that was building up within you, you put on your best fake smile and nodded.

——

“Oh my god did you read today’s news?“

Stop it...

“I just can’t believe it and here I thought that he was a down-to-earth type of guy!“

But he is, I swear!

“You guys are exaggerating! He’s a playboy, you can see that from a mile away!“

N-No, you’re wrong!

“Did you guys actually know that these were actually some long-term fans of his from way back when he first debuted?“

So what...? I’m sure there must be some backstory to this...

“They could’ve at least picked a better and more hidden-away location than a love hotel right at the center of Shinjuku...“

Maybe they had a photo shoot around that area!

“Ugh, he makes me sick...and to think that I shared my book with him once.”

Please don’t say that...

“I feel sorry for his managers and teammates. Who knows what these poor souls have to go through because of this.“

T-That’s一

No matter how many corners you turned, stairs you climbed, or rooms you entered, everyone was talking about the same thing: Kise. The moment you had woken up, your phone was full of notifications, questions, and missed calls, but before you could even comprehend what was going on, one particular message had caught your attention.

♡ : I’m sorry (Y/N)-cchi but I won’t be coming to school today. This is all just a big misunderstanding...trust me

It was then that you had noticed the big headline of your phone’s news app:

MODEL KISE RYOUTA CAUGHT RED-HANDED! IS ONE NOT ENOUGH? Steamy adventures in front of Shinjuku’s most famous love hotel!

It had been such a massive slap to the face, that the entire morning was foggy to you, reality hit you the moment you had stepped on school grounds.

Gossip. Rumors. Lies. Disgust. Aggression. Madness. Sadness.

No matter how hard you tried to avoid any ill-meant word from your classmates, you just couldn’t escape. Your belief in the man whom you called your beloved, the one who promised you that you’d always be the one in his eyes, the same one who swore that this endeavor was nothing but a misunderstanding, was starting to waver.

Suddenly everything started to make sense.

His distant behavior towards you, the increasing amount of modeling gigs he took on, your surprise visits during his training that he’d loved so much went unnoticed and that important topic he wanted to discuss with you on your next date. Everything.

You felt how all those negative feelings you had accumulated during these past few months started to come forth. Just as you were on the verge of tears and wanted to do nothing but fall to your knees, scream and cry you came across Moriyama and Yukio.

“(Y/N)! There you are! How long do you think I’ve been looking for you?!”

The tall man alongside your best friend was quick to notice that you were quite distraught and immediately took a hold of his captain’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly. You truly appreciated that these two were looking for you and intended to calm you down or encourage you to think positively and rationally about this, but right now you couldn’t manage to listen to their kind and caring words, so you apologized, thanked them, and headed straight towards the rooftop, the place where Kise had confessed to you.

As if on cue, your phone began vibrating and as you looked at the screen you saw that the incoming call was from no other than the man who’d been on your mind since the early morning.

“K-Kise...?”

“(Y/N)-cchi! Thank god, you picked up! I’m sorry for the short and sinister message this morning, but I had to clear some things with my managers first bef-“

“So your image was once again more important, huh?”

“W-What...?”

Before you could stop yourself from saying something you’d regret later, your mouth was unfortunately quicker.

“Lately I hardly recognize you, Kise, it’s as if you’ve become an entirely different person. First, you confess your love to me all sheepishly, blushing from head to toe, then you treat me like I’m the center of the world and the only reason you live for, but as of late you’ve been prioritizing your work more than our joint time. I tried to be understanding, I really did, but if you asked me out just so that you could fulfill some kind of goal and boast to whoever with it, then I’m really the wrong person for this.”

Nothing but silence came from the other end of the line, so you took this as a sign to continue.

“Listen, Kise, I don’t need nor expect you to adore me as if I’m some kind of deity, but I at least would like to know what the backstory to today’s tabloid news meant...and I sincerely hope that you aren’t going to trot out some lame excuse because I wouldn’t be able to handle it.“

“...(Y/N)“

“I’ll see you this Saturday Kise.“ you whispered as you ended the call without waiting for his answer.

——

You looked at yourself in the mirror, dreading what this date would mean for your future with the blond young man. The entire week-long you had deliberately avoided him in order to keep your thoughts as rational as you could and not let them get influenced by neither your feelings for him nor the supporting words of your friends. It was hard to ignore the guilty and worried stares he sent your way and whenever you saw the vicious glares others gave him, it really tugged at your heartstrings, but somehow you managed to withstand any possible temptation.

During the bus drive to the city center, you once again looked at the screenshot you took of the article that had caused you so much despair over the past few days. The blurry photo showed a tall blond man who was without a doubt Kise, trapping some girl whose face was covered by pixels between himself and the wall of the love hotel while the second one was pulling on his dark blue jacket, the same one which you had given him as his last year’s birthday present. Judging by the image alone it did look like Kise and the two girls were on their way to the rather flashy establishment, but your boyfriend couldn’t quite hold himself back and decided to start on the fun beforehand.

Cheating, huh...?

You bit your lip and thought about it. A famous and perky guy like him already had a stable fangirl club that followed him at each step so him feeling tempted during your time as a couple wouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest and yet it pained you so much that you could’ve started crying right then and there in front of all the other people that were sitting in the bus with you.

The city was brimming with people left and right, exiting and entering shops and restaurants. Today should’ve marked a happy occasion since it was the first public date the two of you had ever planned while the streetlights were still off. You had agreed to meet right in front of a small cafe that was close to the station and wasn’t one of the popular hangout spots so that you could at least have some sense of privacy. Each step you took fueled your anxiety of what was about to come and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you just couldn’t calm your raging heart down.

You finally saw a blond head sticking out among the crowd and just as you were about to raise your hand and wave to him, you halted. Kise was apparently not alone and had come alongside yet another girl who was constantly clinging to his arm, trying to get him to move.

“What did I even expect...?”

The crowd before you started to disappear and the two of them finally came into full view, but so did you. His yellow eyes met with your glassy ones and you could immediately see how regret and sorrow distorted his already distressed face.

“(Y/N)-cchi, wait...i-it’s not what it looks like..!”

You felt something warm fall down your cheeks and without paying it any mind you simply turned around and began walking back where you came from. Kise’s desperate calls for you to wait up were ignored and whenever his voice seemed too close to you, you sped up but he was too persistent. Despite the dense crowd you constantly walked amongst he never lost track of you.

(Y/N)-cchi! Please wait!

It’s all a misunderstanding, I promise you!

Listen to me, please!

(Y/N)!

You were trying to isolate his desperate pleas to such an extent that you hadn’t noticed the park you had just walked in. There were barely any people who strolled around this small yet beautiful piece of nature. The thought of elderly people walking their pets here, children running around and couples occupying the benches made you imagine just what excellent spot this would’ve been for a proper first date...

The young man behind you had used the time you were lost in thoughts to close the distance between you, but as soon as had returned from your small daydream and noticed how close he was to you, your body involuntarily urged you to run. And you did.

N-No, wait...!

You were fully aware of what you were doing, and you felt terrible for it. Kise’s leg had been injured for quite some time and he was told to not overdo it, which meant that he had to renounce running for most of the time so that he had enough energy and leg power left for his basketball matches.

And yet why..?

Why was he running after you as if his life depended on it? As if it was the last point his team needed for victory? Why?

You stopped sprinting and swiftly turned around. The man who had been an arm’s reach from you didn’t expect your sudden halt and collided with you, but luckily he caught you just before you lost your footing and pulled you towards his heaving chest. His trembling arms wrapped around your body and tightened their grip.

“Finally...”

The way he hugged you made all the wonderful and sweet memories of your life with him came up, leaving you with no other option but to return his embrace with the same amount of love.

“Kise...are you crazy? Why did you start running after me with your injured leg?” you asked after a short while and even though your question was intended to sound like a lecture, it ended up having a worrisome tone instead.

“This small amount of pain is nothing compared to the pain I made you feel these past few weeks.”

A small smile adorned your lips, but at the same time, you had to continuously think about all the things that had happened in this week alone, causing your smile to vanish almost immediately. You wanted answers and you needed them now.

“Kise, please...I want you to-“

“Explain. Yes, I know.” he interrupted and slowly backed up, looking you directly into your eyes.

After he’d taken hold of your hands, he began by defusing the situation that had transpired some mere seconds ago. The girl that was tugging on him was apparently a fan of his who’d drunk one too many beers. She’d unintentionally run into him and had almost lost her balance, but as caring as he was he held onto her and that’s when she had found out his true identity. Kise tried to keep her as silent and calm as possible, but that was easier said than done. The moment you had arrived was when she had started pulling his clothes, pleading him to come to her house and sign all of her merch.

“So about that article...on that day we had a photo shooting in Shinjuku and I was asked to take a break so I wandered about and that’s when two girls came from the love hotel. I wasn’t disguised so they immediately recognized me and tried to ask me out and whatnot. They were so persistent that I told them about you...they thought I was lying and then...”

You saw his sudden change in demeanor, his jaw muscles had tensed up and his grip on your hands was harder than earlier. Kise was rarely mad at something or someone, but what you saw before you, that anger and unspoken hatred were a first for the normally cheerful young man.

“They began insulting you, saying how you were together with me just because of my looks and nothing more. How dare they talk you down to their level? Just who do they think they are?!”

You expected any random excuse but seeing him get so worked up for your sake made your heart ache and now that you knew the backstory, the pictures made more sense. Your lover explained that he’d lost his temper and had pushed the girl who’d trash-talked you against the wall, warning her to keep her mouth shut before he really lost it. Meanwhile, her friend had tried to get him away from her by pulling on his jacket, and apparently, that’s when one of the passersby shot the photo. He took a short break after telling you that and then out of nowhere he brought his face closer to your own.

“(Y/N)-cchi...that’s not all. Do you remember our phone call when you told me that I’ve changed?“ he asked and waited for your confirmation before continuing, “...well the reason I didn’t call you first and had to deal with my manager is that we considered making my relationship with you public.”

“Wh-What...?“

“I’ve had enough of people trying to flirt with me and not believing when I say that I’ve found the perfect partner already. You see...graduation is just a few months away and after that I wanted to concentrate more on our relationship, hoping that maybe you’d like to...to live together with me.“

If you weren’t shocked enough before then his proposal just know had given you the finishing blow. Your heart was beating so fast and so loud that you feared he could’ve heard it.

“Was...was this the reason you took on so many jobs?”

He noded in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t feel confident enough to propose such an idea when it seems so far away and unrealistic, so I wanted to gain some sense of stability and independence before I asked you.”

Kise continued his explanation, but you didn’t catch most of it since you were so lost in your thoughts. The man before you had taken so many overtime shifts, had sacrificed so many of your dates, had gotten himself in a scandal for your sake, and yet here you were doubting him and doing something so childish like running away from him. You bit your lower lip and jumped into his arms, silently apologizing to your lover for your presumptuous behavior. He simply returned your embrace and kissed your temple.

Sometimes, misunderstandings such as these do have their benefits...

#knb scenarios #kise x reader #kise ryota x reader #knb fluff #knb angst #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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katiescancerjourney · 2 years

Text

New Chemo Side Effects - TMI

I’d like to put out a warning that this post has to to with my vagina and butthole and a little bit of sex (not butthole sex, I see how that could be misleading) but it’s all completely medical and the point of this blog is to show you what I’m going through and hopefully help other people dealing with the same thing so I’m putting it all out there with zero regrets. But I guess if you’re my dad, maybe skip this one?

The new chemo I’m on, Erbitux, also known as Cetuximab, is super drying. It dries out your whole body leading to acne and rashes and cuts similar to paper cuts. It’s a real fucking blast. So per the warning, over the last month I’ve experienced 20 new white heads a day around my chin and nose, alligator skin bleeding nail beds, bleeding pores after shaving, etc. What I didn’t expect was for all of my private parts to start dying.

Weeks ago I was at a wedding and I saw so much blood in the toilet that I thought I got my period, so I borrowed a tampon from a friend and went about my day, no biggy. When I took the tampon out later there was no blood. Ok that’s strange but my period has been all over the place on chemo so I didn’t think much about it. I soon realized that I was bleeding with bowel movements. Since being diagnosed I started getting hemorrhoids (also a fucking blast) so I figured that one was acting up and again, no biggy, I went about my day. Unfortunately weeks later, the bleeding had not stopped and the pain was increasing.

Now on to my vagina. I had sex recently (go me!) and I noticed a week or so later that my vagina was bothering me. To be honest, it wasn’t just my vagina but isolated completely to my clitoris. It was really sore, hurt to go to the bathroom and wipe, etc. I started to run through all potential reasons, like was I masturbating too much (hey, it happens, I live alone during a pandemic, it gets real boring), had my cancer spread to my vulva (it’s a real thing), did I get an STD? Let me say that I don’t date at all or have sex often and if I was going to get an STD like the one time this year I had fun with everything else I’m dealing with, that would be the ultimate disrespect!!! Luckily that was not the case.

After getting a GYN exam and a finger up my butt by a proctologist (you may think that someone with colon cancer is used to that by now but it was my first appointment when anyone was inspecting that area and I was not under anesthesia) the doctors determined that this chemo is so drying that it’s cutting up all of my special places. I have a fissure on my rectum and a small laceration on my clitoris. Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The advice was to get a bidet attachment to my toilet so I wipe less often, to apply aquaphor after going to the bathroom every time, and of course, use all of the lube in the world whenever you have fun times.

Chemo sucks, we all know this. It makes you sick and fatigued and generally feel like shit, but it’s these weird and seemingly random side effects that annoy me the most and shock me every time. For anyone who’s seen The Good Place, I imagine a small council sitting around a conference room table looking at all of the different types of chemo and deciding which bizarre side effects they would find amusing to add to each one.

I’ve had first bite syndrome where your jaw painfully locks up every time you take a first bite of something, only to go away immediately upon the second bite. I’ve had sensitivity to cold where slightly above room temperature water feels like shards of ice sliding down your throat. But I gotta say… a paper cut on my clit really takes the cake.

#cancersucks #coloncancer #stage4cancer #katiesfightclub #katiesmithsfightclub #tmi #chemo #chemosideeffects #chemosucks

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sodone-withlife · 3 years

Text

icarus fell, and blood stained the ground

i'm back!! (but not really—the new school year literally starts in an hour and it will be back to my pathological dependence on academic validation. at least i can say i've technically published another fic before summer break ends)

anyway, here's the fic in response to part 1 of sumayyah's post. i published a companion poem for this some time ago. as per usual, i gave up on proofreading so hopefully any mistakes don't detract from the story. also, i hope the formatting and jumping back and forth between italics makes sense—let me know if it doesn't, though it might be easier to read on ao3 (it should go up on there by 4pm PST because school)

warnings: murder, major character death (may potentially be classified as suicide-by-proxy, depending on your interpretation), guns, canon typical violence, slight gore at the end, mentioned substances

word count: 1.9k words

The damned man thought of everything, Jessica thought as she scowled at the damned folder that sat innocuously on the large mahogany desk.

The desk that would soon be cleared, all traces of the previous owner gone.

She lifted a shaky hand and brushed it through her hair, shuddering at its greasy and unkempt state that hinted at the state she had been in recently. Weary to the bone, she forced herself to sit back up and grab her phone, dialing the number that was written on the sticky note placed on the inside cover of the folder. It didn’t surprise her to hear an unfamiliar female voice answer the phone with a “Ms. Brooks?”

He had thought of everything, after all.

Really, the only thing she was surprised at was the sheer extent of his connections—but thinking back to her phone calls with Haley back when he was still practicing law, the talks about extravagant offers from top corporations and firms, she really wasn’t surprised. Thus, it made sense that her call to the top law firm in the state would be answered within two dial tones and by someone who already knew who she was.

And within minutes of talking with the woman who introduced herself as Ms. Stevens, Jessica became even more aware of just how prepared her brother-in-law had been before he walked to his dea—

Not an in-law anymore—her brother. He had long since earned that designation, that spot in her broken family, no matter how much self-flagellation he put himself through in regards to her sister’s murder and no matter how much abuse her father hurled at him in the years before the man who once viewed him as a son succumbed to dementia.

Hours later, despite having already reached her limit twenty minutes into the call, she finally hung up the phone with only funeral arrangements as an immediate concern. Slowly, she stood up from the chair and mechanically made her way into the tiny bathroom that had once been a familiar sight, when her nephew was still a child—

She forced her mind away from that minefield; she wasn’t willing to spend another sleepless night thinking about what had gone down in the past month, what had happened a week ago in that apartment, what her nephew was doing and thinking in the cell that only seemed to become colder and crueler the more she thought about it.

How many prisons had he visited? How many interrogation rooms, holding cells, general population cells, max security cells, death row cells? Did he ever get used to it? Could he allow himself to get used to it, to forget that these people are also human no matter the crimes they’ve committed?

A careful hand fell onto Jessica’s shoulder, and she shuddered under the warmth that seeped into her body, a warmth that had been lacking from her life for a long time now. She turned to see Morgan staring back at her, concerned.

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” he explained neutrally, flicking his eyes towards her phone—and sure enough, there were ten missed calls, each from a member of the team. She looked back up but avoided his concerned gaze only to latch onto her reflection in the mirror and internally winced at her haggard appearance.

“Did you—“ she coughed, clearing her throat, “have you figured out what happened?” Morgan’s unspoken question about her well-being went unanswered, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

She watched the man shake his head through the mirror, unsurprised and once again cursing her brother for his incessant habit of playing his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to personal issues.

How else is—was—he one of the best at poker in the bureau, often even beating Reid?

“He hasn’t talked, either,” Morgan informed her quietly, saving her the pain of asking the question herself. “Forensics is still struggling to put together a cohesive picture. To be honest, I doubt we’ll ever find out what actually happened in that apartment.” He shook his head, frustrated at the man he considered his brother.

If either of them bothered to ask, they would have found that both were truthfully unsurprised at this outcome, given what they only recently learned about the factors and circumstances that led to it. The few established facts about this case in addition to speculation based on systematically organized notes left in an even more meticulously organized folder painted a clear enough picture of the events preceding the fall.

But it wasn’t really an accidental, flailing fall.

In all truthfulness, he didn’t fight it.

Icarus let himself fall to his death in an attempt to compensate for his hubris, to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, and it was both a cowardly attempt to escape the hellish burns caused by the boiling, melting wax and a selfless attempt to teach posterity to avoid ending up like him.

Jessica remembered the warmth of Morgan’s embrace when he ignored all protocol and took it upon himself to inform her of what had transpired in the past two months, regardless of the still-ongoing investigation. It didn’t do much to soothe the cold that had threatened to swallow her whole as she listened to the details in silent horror.

He had sat her down in her apartment, the one she had taken care of her ailing father in before he finally died and the one she couldn’t bear to move out of for all of the memories that had been formed inside—with her father on his good days, with her brother, with her nephew

“A week ago, we were invited by MPD to consult on a series of killings that happened over the course of a month. We had an eye on the situation since the second murder, and there were two more victims in the span of a week before we were finally called in,” he began quietly.

He had suspicions as to what was happening by the time the team was invited in on the case at the personal request of the MPD chief. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had come across this profile before, but there were simply too many puzzle pieces with matching edges for the connections to be brushed off as a coincidence.

“Based on the rate at which bodies were popping up, we anticipated another one within two days of us being called in, but the killer had gone suspiciously silent. We went through crime scenes, forensic reports, and things weren’t adding up.”

"It’s a local case and we’ve coordinated with MPD multiple times, they know the drill. I’d like to take a personal look as well, the brass has been all up in my business about this case given its proximity to the Hill."

That’s what he said to the team regarding him suddenly taking the initiative to go to the crime scenes despite his responsibilities—it had been a while since he last went out to crime scenes, often taking care of the office politics and coordinating the investigation back at whatever precinct or office the team had taken over.

“There were odd inconsistencies, missing pieces of evidence… There was evidence to show that the killer was an amateur, but ultimately the profile we ended up building was nowhere near as detailed as we hoped it could be—but it ultimately went a long way in helping us figure out what was really happening.”

Old case files going missing from his home office, growing interest in his job, sudden mood swings happening long after the worst of puberty, increased isolation, dropping grades…

Absentee fathers of Georgetown students being stabbed and shot to death as if the killer was unsure about what to do, an innocuous Jack-in-the-Box takeout bag sitting near the last three bodies…

Numerous signs, and yet it was the outwardly irrelevant piece of trash, perhaps a sign of the killer’s gluttony—a sick joke that only he could have recognized—that led him to put all of the horrifying pieces together. It’s been over a decade, and yet the memories of that damned day remained as clear as ever, dogging his every footstep. Nightmares in which the worst happens still often visit him in his sleep, sometimes even combined with the effects of Peter Lewis’s drug concoction, effects lingering even after all these years.

“Somehow, we completely missed the fact that he fit the victimology. Maybe it was because of his efforts to distract us… If we had put it together earlier we might have been able to figure it out much earlier, and maybe everything could have turned out differently.”

Only after intensive counseling and careful editing of his case reports was he allowed to continue in the bureau after Lewis and his targeted attacks, and yet he knew he was still being watched. It was with that thought in mind that he made a decision on how to handle the situation. Either way, his life would be irrevocably changed, and there would be casualties alongside him.

All he had to do was figure out how to minimize them.

“He never came in that morning; Reid was the first to notice the lights off in the office. We were headed towards his apartment complex as soon as we saw a cleared-out office with a retirement letter being the only thing left on the desk. All of the pictures, trinkets, law books, messy stacks of paperwork—gone.”

A retirement letter for formality's sake, one copy emailed directly to the director and one printed on his desk, to simplify some things for the bureau and to ensure that Jessica and his son get his pension should the worst happen. All of his decisions, meticulously recorded and justified, except for this last one to protect the team from the consequences of his choice. All of his notes, all of the claimed evidence, carefully stored in the file box he left next to the retirement letter back in the office. Favors accumulated since law school called in, contacts throughout the local justice system ready to step in and deal with the fallout.

All of this, an attempt to compensate for the mistakes he’s made over the years and his hubris, to protect the remnants of his family and the team.

Morgan couldn’t finish telling Jessica what had happened, voice somehow caught in his throat and refusing to cooperate. He simply shook his head, and she folded in on herself, the weight of the last week too much for her to hold up. Slowly, he pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back but not doing much more to soothe her.

This is a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.

The story ends like this:

Icarus burned, and Aaron Hotchner said nothing as the hand that held the gun against his temple shook with uncertainty. Everything he wanted to say was written—one might call him a coward, but writing had always been so much easier for him—and he knew that he would be the final casualty, that the killings would stop after tonight.

Icarus fell, and Aaron Hotchner was flung sideways, the unyielding bullet from his gun fired by his own son shredding the brain that thought had of everything but the emotional and psychological effects his final decision would have on his family and friends.

Daedalus grieved over his son’s crumpled form, and Jack Hotchner would be found with his father’s dead body in his shaking arms as he stared blankly at sights unseen to the team, who had come hours too late.

Blood stained the ground, seeping into the cracks and crevices of grasping fingers, and nothing would ever be the same.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #bau #jessica brooks #jack hotchner #tw character death #tw guns #tw violence #tw murder #tw death #just to cover my bases #tw substances #tw drugs #tw gore

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years

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I'm still rather new to Tumblr. While I've clearly displayed my ability to post my ramblings, I'm still figuring out the other various features of this platform. For the sake of reference, I have posted a screenshot below.

While I completely agree with @youhavebeenmarkled that it's grossly inappropriate to suggest Catherine, the future Queen Consort, is a drug addict... I want to add to the discussion and further develop why the concept of Catherine microdosing heroin is entirely ignorant.

@youhavebeenmarkled mentions several excellent points as to why the concept is ridiculous; from genetics to muscle tone and more. But there's deeper reasons why this idea of Catherine being on heroin is so far from the truth and reality, it's out of this world. Some could even argue it sounds like a page from a Hollywood script.

Before I get started, though, I want (and need) to stress a few things. I am in no way shaming anyone. As I've shared in the past, I am the last person in the universe qualified to pass judgement on anything or anyone. My posts are simply my perspectives, my opinions. I look at facts in the public domain, and with my own knowledge and life experience, I form my thoughts.

Please remember while you read this, I am not looking down on anyone. I am not bragging about knowing what drug addiction is or is not. I am only sharing some insights with you, the reader, on what real life heroin addiction is like. My only goal is giving insight.

I am not proud of my past, and I am not condoning it. Nor should you. Accountability is how I stay clean. Please do not feel like I am suggesting non-addicts are ignorant or "square". Not knowing or understanding heroin addiction is a blessing. It's a good thing to be in the dark about certain things because it means you're smarter than people like me.

Be proud of the fact you don't automatically see why these blind items are total nonsense from the start. And if you aren't proud of yourself, just know I am proud AF of you. For those of you like myself who have been through the hell of addiction, remember we do recover. With all that being said, let's get going.

You see, anyone with firsthand experience or knowledge of true heroin addiction would automatically know these rumors are absolutely ridiculous. Why? Because heroin addiction doesn't work that way.

Now don't get me wrong. The world is filled with functioning closet addicts. I myself was a functioning closet addict for years before the world was any the wiser. The key point, though, is the world did eventually get wiser.

Heroin addiction usually starts out in one of a few ways. Most Americans addicted to heroin became that way because of prescription painkillers. For example, I first got addicted to pain pills. When the pain pills became impossible to get, I took what I could get that was the closest equivalent. That was heroin.

But some people start using heroin because they did some at a party with friends. Or they have a loved one addicted and wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Some people are hooked on other drugs, like cocaine or ecstasy, and their usual dealer offers a free sample of the latest batch of heroin. There's a saying among addicts; "The first one's free."

Dealers know they can increase their profitability if they can get established clients addicted to other products they traffic. But these are just a few examples of how people get started using heroin. Very rarely does anyone start out on heroin simply because they want to stay thin. Contrary to the popular belief known to many as "heroin chic" that came from supermodels in the mid 80s and 90s.

Heroin is what addicts refer to as a euphoria narcotic. It has a euphoric effect, and it is sometimes called a "downer". Cocaine, crack cocaine, methamphetamine, or amphetamines are called "uppers" or "speeders" because they stimulate the brain and give energy. While heroin can have that affect on people, it is not the traditional go-to for illicit weight management.

In other words, if Catherine really did use microdosing (a concept I will debunk in a moment), her first, best choice would be a stimulant like cocaine because it's much more effective at appetite suppression and providing energy. Heroin wouldn't be the first, best choice for many reasons.

Because of its nature, heroin is highly addictive. Most users begin snorting the drug in powder form. Within seconds to a minute, the substance enters the bloodstream and hits the brain. The brain then releases endorphins that travel the rewards pathway in the brain. The first time one uses heroin is the highest they will ever feel from using. Every subsequent dose releases less and less endorphins in the brain. This is why recovering addicts talk about chasing their sobriety like they chased their first high. This is also why microdosing is an almost-impossible behavior.

Microdosing means taking tiny, small amounts over time. Meaning that you only use the minimum amount to achieve the effect you desire. But the problem is, your brain becomes physically dependent on the substance over time. Every time an addict uses, the brain gets more dependent on that substance to function. So, while a non-addict's brain has no issues with their brain producing endorphins, an addict's brain does. This is why heroin is so addictive.

Eventually, a heroin addict's brain will become so reliant on heroin to produce endorphins, the addict will become entirely dependent. This is also known as becoming hooked. When the addict doesn't have the minimum amount of heroin the body is accustomed to, or depending upon, the addict will start withdrawal. This is often called being "dope sick" or "detoxing".

Detoxing or being dope sick is the driving force behind addicts staying addicts. Being dope sick is the biggest fear of an addict. So much so, the fear of detoxing is enough to drive otherwise good, decent human beings to doing absolutely whatever it takes to avoid detoxing. Stealing from loved ones, manipulating innocent bystanders, lying, cheating, robbing, selling your body... are the half of it.

Being dope sick is like having the worst flu of your life times a million. You will vomit, have uncontrollable diarrhea, and your body will hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine. If you detox for more than a day, you will begin to feel like your insides are shaking, burning, and pulling apart inside. You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't get out of bed. You miss work and lose your job (if you still have one at this point). You get desperate before this point, and you get carnal after this point.

Your brain and entire body becomes dependent on this substance to function subpar. Without this substance, everything begins to stop working properly. Depending on exactly how much you use normally, your withdrawal can become life threatening. You can have seizures, strokes, or even go into cardiac arrest. Hopefully you can see by now why I say the concept of microdosing is ridiculous.

To be able to micro dose would require the self control and willpower of a super human. This reminds me of an article I once read about a college professor who advocated for drug use. He claimed he wasn't addicted, had control of his drug use, and was a productive member of society. He said he'd use heroin like others drink after a long day of work. Yet, he's been using it for over a decade. Yet, he experienced detoxing. That professor is a prime example of an addict in denial. But I digress...

My points are this:

1. Heroin wouldn't be the first choice for weight control or appetite suppression; cocaine or stimulants like meth or ritalin would be.

2. Microdosing is an almost-impossible method of drug use because the body gets hooked quickly. Which means the dose will only increase in amount in order to have the same effects over time.

3. Heroin causes an addiction that results in serious, life threatening withdrawal that drives even the nicest person to doing the worst of the worst.

4. Heroin addiction, even in small amounts, takes no time to invade and overtake one's life. It literally only takes one time to get hooked. It literally takes no time to destroy everything.

Oh, and one more thing before I put a sock in it... at the height of my active addiction, I was using around 2 grams a day to feel normal. I spent at minimum $200 a day on heroin. Sometimes even more. When I started out, I was only using a tenth or less. It takes 10 of those to make a gram. So within two months of starting, I went from doing one tenth to needing 20 of those tenths just to feel normal and function. All the while, I never got smaller than 150 pounds.

I know it sounds terrible, but I would lament over how unfair it was. I was doing all this heroin, and I was still thick AF. I would literally joke to fellow addicts I would use with how it was total bullshit. How was it I was using 2 grams a day and still a size 12 or 14? That's how sick I was in my disease. Which is my final point.

Not everyone on heroin is "heroin chic" skinny. The effort, will power, and self control it would take to "microdose" would be far greater than what it would take to control one's diet and exercise. Plus it would be much cheaper to hire a trainer than employ a drug dealer.

I hope this very long, detailed, winded post gives better insight to the deeper reasons the blind item is so dumb. I also hope it gives insight to the real life of heroin addiction. My goal was, and is, to provide real examples to the blind item's absurdity. If I can help people better understand heroin addiction, potentially deterring someone from ever touching it or even a loved one learning something that could help someone they know struggling with addiction... well that would be a bonus.

P.S. If you or a loved one you know is struggling with addiction, there is help out there. If you have any questions or just need someone to listen, please feel free to message me. I will do my best to help. I've been there. They say the only way to keep your sobriety is by giving it away... I have plenty to give. Be forewarned, though, I am unapologetically blunt and honest to a fault. I mean no harm, but I will not sugar coat anything.

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a-smile-hides · 4 years

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FORBIDDEN - I.R.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Sum: Ivar is forbidden to meet up with the woman he likes to, one day, make his mate

Hello 😊 So, I recently noticed that I now have 200 followers and for that: thank you all for sticking with me! Really, this has been so much fun so far! A while ago I bumped into a post of @rosepetals-flyingbirds. They came up with a writing challenge and I wanted to do something, but then I got sick and kind of forgot about it… Oops. But now that I am better and with this 200 followers-thing I thought why not? Thus, I randomly selected one and just wrote whatever came to mind. It is an alpha x omega one, but without the smut. Not comfy writing that. I’m not used to writing something from the omegaverse, so I made it a bit of my own. Mixed with all kinds of stuff. It’s kind of focused on the time before a man becomes an alpha. Hope it is not a problem haha. Honestly, it was kind of an experiment. I worry too much, I think. It is set around season four, when Ivar was still a young man. Still cute and vulnerable. Remember that? Haha. Hope everyone enjoys – and again: thank you xxx

The prompt: 46 – “This is chaos”

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At the edge of the forest, near the remains where according to the stories, the great Ragnar Lothbrok used to live, sat Ivar the Boneless. His eyes were closed as his chest went heavily up and down. His jaw clenched while low curses passed his lips.

The young man was fed up with the world around him. There he sat. A crippled wolf. Not respected by anyone. The only one of the brothers that had not left his home. The only one that was not a true alpha yet.

At birth, it becomes clear in the first days if the child is to be an alpha or not. It was no surprise to anyone that the sons of Ragnar were destined to become alphas. And so, they were seen and respected as the dangerous and fearsome alpha’s they were meant to be. Björn and Ubbe had each left Kattegat to start their own pack with their mate, Hvitserk was still looking around for the one that could bare his pups and Sigurd had found his mate a few days ago. The mark on his neck was still fresh when he turned his back to his hometown.

And so, Ivar was the last and only son of Ragnar left in Kattegat. His trades had started to manifest already. He had become more aware of the harsh, cold wind that blew through the trees, yet he never felt cold. As the young prince made his way through Kattegat, he would often be overthrown by a sudden want to mark this territory as his. But most importantly, his senses became aware of possible mates around him. It had been a cloudy but pleasantly warm day when his nose first caught a whiff of your scent.

Ivar was sitting under a tree at the edge of the forest, that day. His fists clenched by his side while his mind pondered for possible answers why his trades manifested so slowly. He could feel the alpha inside of him grow with each passing day, and still with one look at the eager man, you could see and feel he wasn’t a true one. It was that sudden wind that carried your scent that made his pondering come to an end. Immediately captivated, Ivar had quickly crawled into the forest, not caring about anyone seeing him. His only goal was to find the source. It took him some time, but eventually he arrived at the end of the forest, far away from the heart of Kattegat. There, Ivar first laid his eyes on you. A young, beautiful omega. Ivar had quickly hidden himself behind a tree. He was careful not to let himself be found by his own scent or betrayed by the growing alpha inside of him who seemed rather pleased with the view. Like this, Ivar was able to take a good look at the one who seduced him to this place. Ivar couldn’t help himself, but a fine grin appeared on his face. He knew right then and there that he wanted you to be his.

The snap of a twig made him hide again and you grit your teeth in the direction of the sound, but as the intruder stepped forward Ivar watched how a relieved smile grew on your lips. Ivar growled lowly as a man stepped towards you. He was tall and broad. A wide grin was plastered on his face that was lathered with scratches and dirt while he proudly showed off the rabbit he had caught. Gritting his teeth, Ivar closed his eyes. He would never be able to attack this man… Not yet at least.

The young prince was more than glad to hear the word “sister” pass the brought man’s lips. Ivar’s eyes fell on your neck. He found no evidence of a mark. For some reason, you had no mate by your site yet, no alpha that had claimed you…

After that day, Ivar kept tracking your scent and looking at you from a place hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t easy. Every day he found you and the man you called your brother somewhere else. It looked like it was only the two of you, never staying anywhere more than a day.

With all those ‘visits’ it was inevitable that Ivar could keep his presence a secret. And on one surprisingly cold morning, your eyes met his when he was trying his best to hide himself behind a small bush. The frightened look you greeted him with, made him doubt himself, but he quickly got up and crawled towards you. He knew his legs could scare you off. But the man was too determined.

He wanted you. And what he wants, he gets.

Ivar’s determination was a real source of irritation for your older brother. When the two men first came face to face, he had laughed at the ‘crippled boy’ and asked you to change your mind. Still, Ivar stubbornness and capability to track the two of you down, made him change his mind. After a while, your brother had to acknowledge that whatever Ivar lacked in speed or physical appearance was nothing compared to his mind and urge to prove himself. And so, he let the two of you be.

Ivar looked up at the sky above him, snorting as he reminded himself of the unfairness in this entire story. During the past months, he had watched how his older brother Sigurd presented one gift after the other to the girl he now may call his mate. He gave her everything her heart could desire, until the day came his eyes turned red and he placed his teeth in the small bonding mark on her neck. Right now, Ivar was going through the same process. Almost every day he showed up with a small present, but to his annoyance your neck remained empty of his mark. Sighing out, he looked down to your resting figure on his chest. One of your hands was resting on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. A corner of his mouth turned up as the grey band on your wrist caught some sunlight, making it shine brightly. This together with the pendant around your neck were one of his many crafts that he used to keep your interest solely on him.

Ivar suddenly growled lowly, his face became dark as his whole body tensed up. If the Gods were not joking around before, then now they were straight up laughing in his face. For the only woman, aside his mother, that truly showed interest in him was you. And due to his mother’s love, he was hindered from enjoying yours.

Aslaug saw Ivar as her God, her love, her everything. And that gave him many advantages, but also held him back. A treasure is meant to be protected. And Aslaug was sure to protect hers from any potential harm.

And in her eyes, that ‘harm’ was you.

It was ridiculous to think that she saw danger in your eyes. But once convinced, it was impossible to change her mind. As a sole ruler and a woman, Aslaug may look fine and vulnerable, easy to be ignored or overthrown. But the queen has a few tricks on her sleeve to ensure her position would not be lost to the first man or woman that grew tired of her reign. She is known to be a master with words and always kept a practically close eye on her people. This together with her family heritage and famous background has allowed her to remain in the top position for all these years.

Ivar had shared this information with you but was surprised by your lack of caution. However, his mind was not eased, and his restlessness only increased. For he knew what kind of hidden power his mother possessed. She was not a witch like so many accused her of being, nor had she mages hidden in the forest with whom she could bargain with. No, her power lay in something much more simpler.

With a light chuckle, you brushed your finger along his jaw, effectively making him snap out of his racing thoughts. Ivar pursed his lips.

“You never take anything serious.” He grumbled, his eyes scanning the area while his nose tried to detect any indication of your brother, who went out hunting for food.

The small smile on your lips widened until your teeth were on full display. “I know when it’s time for fun, Ivar”

Ivar scowled and turned his head to the side.

“You should start having fun as well. Might safe your face from an everlasting scowl.”

That made Ivar growl again, although this time more playfully as he pushed you back and tried his best to hover above you. His movements were limited due to his legs. And once again, they made him hiss out in pain as he held himself up with his arms. The dark look on his face warned you not to make any bidding. And you had to bite your lip to follow his command. Ivar muffled a chuckle while he licked his lips, a futile attempt to hide his smirk.

“Oh, the things I will be able to do…” He whispered out.

Maybe it was the thoughts than immediately went through your brain or the fact that he was so close, but a tiny, almost nervous giggle passed your lips. The sound was like music to his ears and made the young wolf eyebrows raise. The confusion on his face, that only seconds ago looked so terrifying, made your laughs only increase.

Ivar dropped his head, one hand grabbed your side and squeezed lightly while his mouth curved into a smile. How was he ever going to get you under his control?

But then your sweet and light giggle got muffled by the deafening sound of a horn being blown somewhere far away. The sound made you and Ivar sit up. Your eyes dashing around in frantic search for your older brother. You hoped that whatever was out there would not get to him. While Ivar’s worst fear had come true. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as he looked at you with saddened eyes. He knew what that sound meant.

Hidden in a chest in his mother’s chamber lay a long, curved horn. The object was part of her family heritage and was promised to him once he came of age. Although the object may appear fragile and uninteresting, the piece was famous for the consequences when a wolf would blow on it. A wolf trapped inside a situation where he or she can see no escape from, may blow on that horn. In that way, the Wolvenhorde, an ancient family of wolves will come to their aid. They are the most powerful and feared pack out there. And Aslaug had the power to call out for them.

With a firm grip on your arm, he turned you towards him. His face had become pale, and his nostrils flared as his voice got lower with every word that passed his lips.

“Listen. She knows. That – That horn was a signal. A signal to an ancient family. I’ve warned you of -“

You shook your head. “But, Ivar-”

“No!” He shouted. “This is chaos. You don’t get what we’re up against. You must leave. Flee. I-I” His voice broke. “I cannot protect you against them…”

A shiver went down your spine at the sight of your lover. The man sat broken on the ground; his eyes focused on the forest in front of him where the sound had come from, while his hand pushed you away from him. All this time he was dreading it, praying, and hoping to never hear that horn. He was counting the days until his eyes would turn red and he would be true alpha. Then he would be able to turn his back on this place, just like his brothers had done, and live his life like he wanted.

But now his mother had still power over him. And somehow, she had found out he had left her to be with you. She had used that horn to find her son. The Wolvenhorde was summoned. And their goal was to get rid of the thorn in her eye: you.

---

Thank you for reading xxx

Tag: @fairyofvoid

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless imagine #alphaivar imagine #alphaivar #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar imagine #ivar imagines #alpha!ivar #writing challenge

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

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THE STORM - Part eight

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

A/N: So here’s part eight!! It’s the first of two parts I’m dedicating to the Origins of the OC character. It explains her ties to Vought and the reason why she’s plotting against them. There is no Black Noir in this chapter :( but it’s important for the story. The next chapter will explain her connection to Mallory, and then after that you’ll be seeing much more interaction with our boy Black Noir!!

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

The Beginning

That night she found herself running in her dreams, just as she did every time she let herself sleep. It always revolved around the beginning of it all, the birth of what plagued her and would haunt her for the rest of her life. She always found herself back at square one, Vought Laboratories.

When she’d been diagnosed with a rare form of immune disease, her parents had been devastated at the lack of resources or therapies available. They’d do anything for her, and they scoured the country’s best hospitals and universities for medicines and potential therapies. Greg and Tara wanted their little girl cured, they wanted her to get a chance at life.

Finally, they found an experimental drug going through clinical trials that might’ve proved successful in correcting the genetic error that was triggering her immune system into attacking her own cells. A team of recruiters from Vought had approached them one day at a hospital, while she’d been getting ready for a check-up. They said they’d investigated her case and had spots available in their trials should she want to try it out. Since the medicine was still under observation, they could only assure an 85% rate of success, and at a lower price. They visited their home multiple times with fliers, power points and data. They assured her parents of the drug’s safety. While it worked in 85% of the patients it never demonstrated any kind of risk or dangerous counter effects. Her parents stayed skeptical for many months, asking questions, and raising concerns, but what ultimately pushed them was their daughter’s heart failure and hospitalization.

She was nine at the time. And as her time quickly diminished, Greg and Tara hurried and signed her up for the program. The experts and physicians at Vought visited her and gathered all of her information before quickly drafting the appropriate dosage for her. She’d have to stay at Vought Laboratories’ clinic far from the city, isolated from the outside world. They had explained this by pointing out the fragile state of her immune system, and the need for her to recover in a safe environment. Lies, so many lies.

The first months went by smoothly, and while she missed her parents, the little girl played with her new friends enjoying the renewed energy coursing through her body. She could run again, and dance and hop without needing to lie down. She could see her parents through a glass window during visitation day every week and they, too, felt relief when they saw her so lively, so different from the pale, skeletal figure she’d been after her hospitalization. Tara felt horrible over the first weeks of not having her at home, not being able to care for her and simply hold her daughter. But when she saw her on the other side of the glass pane, she couldn’t imagine stripping this opportunity away from her.

“Mommy, mommy, look,” the little girl would call while twirling and running around the room, jumping in excitement.

Tara pressed her hand against the glass, eyes brimmed with tears.

“Yes, honey, I see—you’re so strong now.”

The little girl just nodded enthusiastically.

A year later is when the trouble started. She had almost reached the end of therapy when she was moved to another section of the clinic with another small group of kids ranging from about ten to fourteen years old. They were shown a power point explaining their purpose in the project. She hadn’t understood at that time, but she now knew what they meant to say was “guinea pigs.” Basically, the drugs they had been taking had modified certain sequences in their genome in a way that diverged from other subjects. They wanted to understand why, as well as see how far they could go. They concluded by saying that they might end up with powers.

Now, superheroes already existed even though they weren’t yet such an important trademark. But people believed they were born that way. And here you had scientists telling young, impressionable children that they could develop powers even though they weren’t born with them. One can only imagine how they awaited with glee for the program to start.

The children saw their parents less and less, and this was explained by their busy schedule of medical visits, tests, activities, school, and sports which were all provided in this secluded, isolated section of the clinic. What they were actually doing was being subjected to insane amounts of physical and psychological stress. Now the drug had proceeded to cure and further improve their cell genes, but there was a need for an environmental stressor to induce the mutation’s manifestation. They had to wake these new, dormant genes, and for this reason they did atrocious things.

One kid, Norman, presented a gene that is found in organisms that can breathe underwater. They proceeded to force him underwater and keep him there until he was on the brink of drowning.

Another one, Chloe, was thought to be able to heal as her genome held a gene commonly found in animals capable of regrowing a limb, such as lizards. They cut, burned, and maimed her for results.

Some of the children ended up developing a reaction to the duress, awakening their evolved genes. Others died from the intensity of the physical torture. And of those who successfully became enhanced, only few ultimately survived due to the instability of their mutation.

A comment frequently noted by the physicians when taking the patients’ parameters was that the reaction, the gene’s manifestation tended to grow stronger and stronger ‘till it became unsuitable for life. In other words, it ended up killing the host.

Greg and Tara’s little girl too endured the process to achieve greatness, as they had called it. And at first, she’d been enthusiastic, dreaming of becoming a superhero. She stayed up late after-hours skimming through comic books brought in by the therapists. Only later would she understand they had preyed on their naivety and dreams. The children grew obsessed with becoming like the characters in the comic books. The little boys dreamed of becoming like Homelander, and the little girls dreamed of flying.

Greg and Tara couldn’t know that their little one, instead of learning in class, spent her morning being constantly electrocuted. The physicians had high hopes for her and projected that she’d be able to conduct great amounts of energy through her body without burning or dying from electrocution. Her feet in freezing cold water, she sat in a hard, metal chair with a wired contraption wrapped over her forehead.

Every day, she was subjected to shocks of increasing intensity. They talked of “jerking her awake,” hoping that the right shock would trigger her genes into working against the effects of the shock. Finally, one morning, the pain subsided, and she began to absorb the energy rather than try to escape it. It felt odd to her, a warmth pervading her completely. The physicians were beyond content, they were amazed by her abilities. She was a success. They quickly learned she was able to absorb different forms of energy and transfer it. She practiced sticking a finger in an electrical socket before touching the objects laid in front of her. Immediately, the object would fly away, scalding hot.

But the initial glee of having powers slowly faded away, and the girl who was turning twelve wanted it to be over. She just wanted to go home. She yearned to call her mommy and daddy to come and take her away, and every time she saw a cell phone laying around, she subconsciously moved towards it. Unfortunately, she didn’t know their numbers.

She talked about it with the clinic’s therapist.

“Why is this coming up now? Is something wrong?”

The girl fidgeted in her seat, “I just want to go home.”

The therapist gave her a stretched smile, cold and far too wide.

“I understand you miss your mommy and daddy, but you have to stay so we can make sure you’re okay.”

She whined, “But I’m doing better.”

“I know, honey, but—”

The little girl grew fussy and cut her off, “I want my mommy.” When the therapist began to comfort her with empty promises, that distinct feeling of total warmth spread throughout her body. Her eyes shined a light blue, like lasers ready to sizzle anything in front of her, and the therapist immediately stopped speaking.

“There’s no need for that, we’ll set up a visitation day,” she quickly granted, gathering her folder and leaving the room.

The girl grew increasingly aggressive and wouldn’t allow the physicians to touch her. She didn’t want anyone but her parents.

When the day finally came, her parents were ecstatic to see and spend some time with her after two weeks of not being able to contact her. The therapy had worked, and they were thankful to Vought, but what they saw that day haunted the last few minutes of their lives. Their daughter looked ghastly, caramel skin chalky and dry. Her eyes were tired and dark bags hung under her eyes. To her mother’s horror, she looked as sick as her days in and out of hospitals before Vought’s medications. Tara pressed her hand to the glass, tears running down her face. The little girl immediately ran up to the glass, speaking fast.

“Please, I wanna go home,” she pleaded over and over, like a mantra of desperate hope.

Her father grew agitated and turned on her therapist who was also in the room to smooth things over. Certain things couldn’t be said and leave the building. It would bring the world’s ethics community down on all of their heads. This was worse than pumping Compound V into newborns. This was altering children’s DNA and torturing the survivors into an enhanced state of being.

“What happened to her? She was doing so well,” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Stacker, please there is no need to yell,” his face twisted in anger as she continued, “She has been rejecting the medications, we believe she hasn’t been taking them regularly as she’s supposed to.”

“She’s almost twelve, you’re supposed to check that she does that.”

The little girl was crying at this point, banging her little fists soundlessly against the glass.

“Mommy, help me.”

The therapist tried to grab the distressed parents’ attention, “If you could follow me, we can talk about this in more detail.”

“We can do that here,” Greg countered, “we’ve been here for not even five minutes and our daughter is crying out to us—you think we’ll just leave her?”

“No, sir—I just assumed—”

The girls pleading voice cut through her parents’ hearts, “They’re hurting me.”

Her father stared at her. What had they done? The choice had been difficult and ultimately, they decided between the therapy and her disease, between life and death. But if they were hurting her for all this time, it wasn’t life. It was solitary pain.

Tara was crying as she too turned on the therapist who wasn’t sure how to save the situation. Her father firmly stated what they’d both already decided, “We’re taking her home.”

“But sir, you signed a contract—”

“I don’t give a damn, she’s coming home—we can bash this out in court if you care about this contract that much.” He leaned closer, “But I’m sure you don’t want this whole project leaked, do you? What are you actually doing here?”

The therapist plucked her com from her pocket and quickly spoke into it, “We need security in visitation room number nine, I repeat, visitation room number nine.”

Tara erupted, “What do you mean security? You can’t take us away from her.”

“Like I was trying to say, the contract—"

The distressed mother screamed, “We don’t give a fuck about the contract—fucking sue us.”

And then all mayhem erupted. Four security guards burst into the room and quickly grabbed a hold on the two parents, trying to cuff them. Tara looked back at the little girl as they resisted.

“We’ll get you baby, okay? Marianna, look at me, you’re coming home.”

Her father punched a guard before being hit in the ribs with a baton. He fell to the floor and they were all onto him, beating and beating, not giving him the chance to stand back up. Tara screamed and tried to pry them from her husband before one swung at her and pushed her into a corner. The therapist quickly fled the scene, her heels clicking away.

The little girl watched and watched, and when she saw her father stop moving, when she saw her mother being tossed away, something snapped. It was like her center shifted, and an all-consuming anger pervaded her senses, taking over.

It happened so fast, her eyes lighting up, the building shaking, then the shattering blast.

When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. Curled up in a ball, shivering, she was the bomb still intact. She was the eye of the storm.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

#the boys #the boys amazon #black noir #the boys tv #the boys black noir #OC #oc story #black noir x oc #flashback #fanfiction

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

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Jij Verliest - Chapter Five: Clip 4

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...

Dinsdag 19:12

When Robbe had messaged Thomas about meeting up, he had chosen a restaurant as the location.

It was one of Thomas’s favorite restaurants near his apartment—and, to Robbe’s relief, within a few minutes walk from the train station. But it had also been the setting of a handful of their dates. For Thomas’s birthday, their six-month anniversary, and a few other occasions, they had celebrated here.

In typical Thomas fashion, he was late.

Robbe wasn’t surprised. In all honesty, he had done his best to prevent Thomas’s lateness. He had told Thomas an hour earlier than the time that Robbe and Jens actually arrived at the restaurant. But still, it was over an hour past the time—around the time that Thomas should be arriving—and he still wasn’t here. Even though there were at least three more trains, Robbe was nervous that they would somehow miss the last one.

But Robbe knew that Jens would drag him away before that happened.

“Robbe, quit it, you’re pacing,” Jens said. Pausing mid-stride, Robbe turned. Jens was leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. The strap of his duffle bag was across his chest and the bag was wedged between him and the bricks. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. There was a concerned look on his face. “You okay?”

Robbe shook his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “No, not until this is over.”

Jens nodded, understanding written all over his features. He leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. Robbe knew that Jens didn’t want to see Thomas—and, going a step further, didn’t want Robbe to see Thomas—but Robbe was thankful that Jens had come with him.

Even though Senne had offered, Robbe didn’t want to think about coming with him. If Robbe knew Senne as well as he thought he did, he would deck Thomas the second that Robbe was interrupted. As much as Robbe sometimes wanted to do it—especially recently—he didn’t want to see Senne in an intense match between lawyers for the next three months or more.

“Well,” Jens said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Hopefully, we won’t be here much longer and it will all be over soon.” When Robbe sent him a confused look, Jens nodded curtly in Robbe’s direction and announced with disdain, “Look who finally decided to show up.”

Robbe pivoted to find Thomas walking up to them. There was a confused look plastered on his face as he glanced between Robbe and Jens. Thomas was dressed in his typical work suit, this time a black one, with a bright purple tie wrapped around his neck. Robbe felt his eyes linger on the tie. He recognized it—how could he not; Robbe had bought it for Thomas—and Thomas only wore it on certain occasions. When he wanted something.

Thomas glanced over Robbe’s shoulder. “Hey, Jens.”

“Sup,” Jens said, popping the ‘p.’

Thomas nodded, turning to face Robbe completely. Even as the two of them stood in silence, staring at each other, Robbe could see the question forming deep in Thomas’s eyes. Before he could get the question out, Robbe pulled the silver watch from where he had buried it deep in his pocket. There was a moment where Thomas simply stared at it and Robbe bit down on his lip, trying to figure out what to say.

Letting out a steadying breath, Robbe held the piece of jewelry out to him. “Here,” Robbe said. “I told you that I didn’t want it.”

Thomas blinked. “And I told you to think about it.”

Robbe sighed. “I did. I still don’t want it.” He dropped the watch into Thomas’s waiting hand, making sure their skin didn’t touch in the process. Once the watch was gone, Robbe shoved his hands into his pockets and swayed on his feet. Thomas held the watch in his hands, gripping it tightly, and Robbe waited for the pin to drop.

It always happened.

The long stretch of silence that preceded an argument was familiar to Robbe. In the last few months of their relationship, Robbe had become strikingly aware of it and increased his efforts in avoiding it altogether. He would cater to Thomas’s every need, knowing that it was likely a stressful by-product of his apprenticeship, and put aside his own discomfort or problems to try and lift Thomas’s mood. It was exhausting, draining, and Robbe had burdened it all.

Not anymore.

“I don’t understand,” Thomas spoke up, pulling Robbe from his thoughts. Robbe blinked up at him, taking in the confused look on his face as he clung to the watch. “Why did you want to meet up in person if you were just going to give the watch back?”

“I wanted to meet in person…” Robbe trailed off, biting his lip. Robbe knew that he didn’t want to be together with Thomas anymore. Now that he knew the type of love that Sander gave, it was hard to want to go back to tense conversations and awkward silences. Robbe deserved better. He knew it. But that didn’t make the prospect of potentially breaking Thomas’s heart any easier.

Letting out a sigh, Robbe continued, “I wanted you to know that I mean it when I said I don’t want to get back together with you.”

Somewhere behind him, Jens made a surprised noise.

Thankfully, Thomas didn’t seem to hear him. For a second, he stared at Robbe, a confused and dazed look on his features. Once it slipped away, it was replaced with his lips turned up in a smile, borderline amused, as though it was all some big joke. Crossing his arms, Thomas asked, light-heartedly, “Why?”

Somehow, it roused the anger in Robbe’s stomach.

“Because it’s not fair!”

As soon as the words slipped from Robbe’s mouth, Thomas’s smile faltered and he opened his mouth to talk. But Robbe was speaking again before he had the chance. “You go and break up with me because you were unhappy. But then, you spend three months ‘moving on’ and you drag me around like some easy second option that you want just in case. Then I am finally able to move on and now you want to get back together again? It’s not fair, Thomas, and I’m sick of it. I don’t want a relationship with you anymore. End of story.”

Thomas stood in front of him, blinking wildly. Then he snickered and said, “Are you serious, Robbe? Is this because of that guy?” Robbe rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw you guys together on Friday. Come on, Robbe. You know as well as I do, nothing beats what we have.”

“Had,” Robbe corrected quickly.

“Huh?”

“Had,” Robbe said, emphasizing the word. “Whatever we had ended when you broke up with me, Thomas. You wanted to break up, not me. If there was a chance that you would change your mind, you shouldn’t have broken up with me in the first place.” Thomas’s face was twisted in shock—and maybe a little bit of anger. “And for the record, it has nothing to do with him. I’m choosing this for me. I don’t deserve to be dragged along and treated that way. Goodbye, Thomas.”

Robbe went to leave, grab Jens and haul ass to the train station. But he noticed Jens pushing himself up off the wall. In one slow motion moment, Jens grabbed Robbe by the wrist and pulled him behind his back, making Robbe stumble along the way. Once Robbe corrected his balance, he realized that Jens had blocked off Thomas, who had his arm held up, frozen in mid air.

Now, Thomas looked angry. “Move.”

“No,” Jens said. Unlike Thomas, who wore every emotion on his face, Jens masked his anger behind his chilled-out look. Their long years of friendship had allowed Robbe to pinpoint the microexpressions in his features. If Robbe had brought Senne, Thomas definitely would’ve been lying unconscious on the concrete by now. “Robbe said what he wanted to say. Goodbye, Thomas.”

Wrapping an arm around Robbe’s shoulder, Jens headed away from the restaurant and toward the train station. As they moved away, Robbe could hear Thomas’s footsteps. But it was his plea that made Robbe feel instantly guilty. “Come on, Robbe.”

Robbe stopped walking. For a second, Jens turned to him, a look of disbelief evident in his eyes. But Robbe swallowed the guilt in his throat and turned towards Thomas. While Thomas looked sad and beaten, like a dog that got scolded, Robbe could pinpoint the triumphant look buried in his eyes. It was a look Robbe was familiar with—even if he had been blind to it before. Thomas loved to feel the euphoric high of winning and Robbe was tired of playing his games.

Steeling his nerves, Robbe swallowed again before he managed to say, evenly, “If you show up at the flatshare again, I will call the cops on you. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore and I’m done looking over my shoulder.” Thomas simply stared at him, a defeated look on his face. It was as though Robbe had injured his being and the guilt manifested again. Swallowing it down, Robbe added, “Goodbye, Thomas.”

Leaving Thomas behind, defeated and in shock, Robbe marched on to the train station with Jens right behind him.

…

Dinsdag 19:25

As the two of them had marched away, Robbe was worried that Thomas was going to follow them, get on the train, and tag along on their vacation. Even after Robbe saw Thomas heading away from the restaurant, away from them, his stomach wouldn’t ease up and continued performing its makeshift dance against his insides. Once they got to the station, Robbe hoped the churning in his stomach would disappear or, at the very least, ease up. But it didn’t.

Even as Robbe settled down into the uncomfortable cushion of the train’s carriage, across from Jens, his stomach continued to turn. It increased in intensity as the seconds drew on, turning slowly into the minutes that followed. Robbe’s foot shook nervously as he stared out the window. He was searching for signs of Thomas, on the platform or obscured by the shadows, afraid that he would appear, unable to take no for an answer.

Jens was staring at him, but he kept quiet.

Once the doors locked and the train started to move, Robbe’s stomach tightened. As quick as it started, the surge of pain dissolved in his stomach, tingling behind his belly button. As the train pulled out of the station, and with no Thomas standing on the platform, Robbe sunk into his seat. His shoulders relaxed, releasing the weight that had been on his shoulders since Thomas showed up, and his body slumped into the soft cushion of the booth.

Robbe could’ve fallen asleep, but Jens kicked his foot, slightly jarring him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jens asked.

Robbe shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about Thomas,” Robbe said.

“Not about that,” Jens said, annoyed. Robbe glanced over at him, peeking through his eyelashes. The look of annoyance quickly turned into a knowing grin. “I’m talking about the guy Thomas mentioned. The one he saw you with on Friday. Is he the reason that you didn’t come to the party on Friday night?”

Robbe knew that he could lie about it. It would be easy to slip in a lie about how he went home to relax in the darkness of his bedroom or to recover from exams. But it would never work. Jens had known him far too long to fall for it. Even in moments where Robbe desperately wanted to be on his own, Jens would see through it. Sometimes, he would maintain his distance. Other times, he wouldn’t.

But Robbe didn’t want to lie to Jens.

Especially about Sander.

Avoiding Jens’ curious eyes, Robbe nodded. “Yeah, we met up after I finished my last exam,” he said. “Once we finished eating, we headed back to his apartment. We spent most of the evening playing video games and drinking beer.”

Jens chuckled. “Is this the guy that had you all smiley in the bar two weeks ago?”

Biting his lip, Robbe nodded and Jens grinned brightly with a knowing glint in his eye. “Yeah, it’s the same guy. Because of exams and studying, we hadn’t really had a chance to talk about him again,” Robbe said, shrugging. “Mostly, we’ve been texting because of the exams and stuff. But we hung out a couple of times between studying and stuff.”

“He makes you happy.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

Feeling his cheeks darken a little, Robbe nodded.

Jens grinned. “Good. You deserve someone better than Thomas Martens.”

Rolling his eyes, Robbe leaned back into the cushion of his seat. He could hear Jens tapping away on his phone, likely texting Lucas—or his mom—that they had made it on the train. Letting out a breath to collect his nerves, Robbe added, “If I bring him around sometime next week, do you promise that you’ll go easy on him?”

Even with his eyes closed, Robbe could tell that Jens was smiling, “If he makes you happy like that, Robbe, you don’t have to worry about me not liking him.”

…

Dinsdag 20:04

Before he and Jens arrived at the beach house, Robbe could hear the familiar sound of Moyo’s music.

As Robbe and Jens approached the house, the rapping tones were turned up loud and booming with a bass that could shake the entire coast. Over the roof, Robbe could see a large wafting cloud of smoke descending closer and closer to the sky. As they headed to the house, Robbe spotted Jens sending him a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t the first time they had all been to the beach together before and somehow, it felt like nothing had changed.

Once they stepped around the corner and out of the shadows, they found all five of their companions surrounding the blazing fire. Moyo was talking with Kes, who had an arm thrown over Lucas’s shoulder without a care in the world. Across the fire, Aaron and Jayden were sharing a joint, holding s’mores in their free hands. At the sight of Jens and Robbe, they all shouted unintelligibly.

From his spot beside Kes, Lucas twisted out of his arm and leapt to his feet. Like the others, he was dressed in a short sleeve button-up shirt and a pair of shorts. Despite the minimum amount of lighting, he had a pair of sunglasses on the top of his head and nearly half of the buttons of his shirt were undone. Jens barely had a chance to observe his boyfriend’s appearance before their lips slotted together, quickly and briefly.

Robbe rolled his eyes, tossing his bag outside the door. “Really? Is it going to be like this all weekend?”

Once their lips disconnected, Jens sent him a ‘Try me’ look. As Kes and Moyo stood from the fire, leaving Aaron and Jayden with their s’mores, Lucas pulled Jens’ duffel bag from his shoulder. With one calculated toss, it landed on Robbe’s bag and tumbled off a few seconds later. Kes appeared over Lucas’s shoulder and Robbe welcomed Kes’s hug. Moyo patted Robbe’s shoulder and high-fived Jens over his head.

“How did it go with Thomas?” Lucas asked.

“As good as it could’ve gone,” Robbe said. Jens wrapped an arm around Lucas’s shoulder, pulling him against his chest. Robbe poked him in the shoulder. “You should’ve seen him. For a second, I thought that Jens was going to punch him.”

“Oh, really?” Lucas asked, turning to Jens, who shrugged.

“We managed to get to the station without him following us,” Jens said, ignoring Robbe’s comment. Lucas glanced over at Robbe, who raised his eyebrows. “About ten minutes into the train ride, Thomas started texting Robbe again, begging for his forgiveness and to give him a second chance.” Lucas rolled his eyes and Moyo scoffed. “Robbe only opened the messages to block him.”

Lucas turned to Robbe. “Do you think he’ll show up at the flatshare again?”

Robbe shrugged. “I don’t think so, but you never know. I told him I would call the cops if he showed up at the flatshare again. And I texted Milan and Zoë to let them know, so if he decided to show up, they would feel okay with actually doing it.”

“Good,” Lucas said. Aaron stepped in the spot between Jens and Robbe, nodding over to him.

“Yeah,” Kes spoke up. In the year Robbe had known him, he had never seen Kes look so serious. His smile was gone from his face and a protective look had replaced it. Jayden appeared over his shoulder, a joint hanging from his lips, and leaned against him. But Kes didn’t shift beneath his weight. “From what Luc’s told me, it basically seems like he’s been harassing you. You deserve better than someone who changes his mind.”

“Thanks, Kes.”

“It can only get better from here.”

“It’s too sad,” Aaron spoke up.

“Aaron.”

“No, I’m serious,” Aaron insisted. “We came to the beach to have a few days away after we finished finals! We are supposed to be having fun and here we are, talking about Robbe’s shitty ex who won’t leave him alone or listen to him. No offense.” Robbe nodded but made a point of rolling his eyes. Looking serious, Aaron pointed at all of them. “And you all know that I’m right.”

For a second, they were all quiet, standing in a circle outside the beach house. Robbe shifted his weight between his feet and Jens reached out to stabilize him, nearly smacking Aaron on the nose in the process. Then, Moyo grinned wolfishly from ear-to-ear. “I have an idea.”

“What?” Aaron asked.

Moyo grinned. “Sacrifice Robbe to the ocean!”

“What?!”

As quickly as he had shouted it, Moyo wrapped his arms around Robbe. His arms were pinned beneath Moyo’s surefire grip. Even though he was stuck, Robbe was still laughing. He tried to kick at his friends but Jens stepped forward, seizing one foot, then the other. He locked his ankles in place, wedged between his arm and his side. As Jens and Moyo lifted Robbe from the ground, Aaron grabbed at his knees to steady him and followed the path of his friends to the beach. Robbe struggled in their grasp, laughs escaping as he tried to wiggle free, and the other three trailed behind, laughing loudly.

Arriving at the edge of the water, Moyo and Jens stopped. The water lapped at their knees, soaking their shoes and the bottom of their pants. Swinging Robbe back and forth, the two of them counted down until they sent Robbe flying into the ocean water. They hadn’t thrown him far enough for it to be a deep drop, but Robbe was completely submerged. It didn’t take him long to surface, spinning around to find his friends.

Moyo was laughing loudly, beaming from ear-to-ear with the rest of their friends, and Robbe couldn’t blame him because his own cheeks hurt from laughing. However, it didn’t stop him from shooting the biggest wave of water towards him. Moyo yelped in surprise as Robbe waded out of the water. Once he was close enough, Robbe lunged toward Jens, climbing on his back and covering him with water, as Jens shouted in shock.

Later, after Robbe changed into a fresh pair of clothes and was in the midst of wringing out the excess seawater from the cloth, he realized that he hadn’t been the only one to go swimming. His phone had too. And it was absolutely ruined.

...

Dinsdag 22:34

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest fic #sobbe #sobbe fanfic #jij verliest #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #rosander #twitch streamer!robbe #twitch streamer robbe #tattoo artist sander #tattoo artist!sander #multi clip #text: sander

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