#and kill all other gods in rage filled revenge. And then tried to kill its so called children when they didn't want to participate in that.
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So they didn't become void, they were "born" that way
In FaaF there are different species and kinds of higher beings (still a MASSIVE work in progress tbh, trying to figure out how these cunts work, but for now I'm thinking they're extremely rare species with far greater abilities and lifespans than a normal bug's that have a chance to ascend to true godhood (but even if they don't ascend that doesn't stop mortals from worshipping them as they're already very god-like from a normal bug's perspective)), "pale beings" being one of these kinds/mutations.
Well, there was also a different kind once, "void beings", but they all went extinct a very long time ago by the beginning of the story. Shade Lord was one, and last, of them and it lost its life in a fight with Radiance - the same fight that drove her to make her permanent residence in the dream realm out of her new-found fear of death (which backfired spectacularly ngl). Its body was buried in the Abyss, where it broke apart and decayed, or decayed as much as a non-living thing can, before it was unearthed many ages later by the pale wyrm.
Not much is known about them since they've been gone for so long, and the vessels are the only void beings remaining, but since they're not "pure" void beings it'd be foolish of anyone to assume that the ancient extinct species behaved the same way as these ones do. But they were generally greatly feared thanks to the void's freaky, dangerous properties, which partly lead to their extinction as some of the other higher beings purposefully attacked and killed them whenever they stumbled across one out of fear. Now the only thing remaining of them are the rare void sources, where their former bodies still refuse to fully die.
Shade Lord does get accidentally resurrected in the story bc of all the tomfoolery happening with its body before almost immediately getting killed again by Ghost who inherits its title and reign. Don't ask me how that works, haven't figured that out yet. Magic god shit or something idk LMAO
#thylacines can talk#faaf au#I read somewhere once that if we close mammoths they wouldn't be true mammoths but more like a mammoth elephant hybrid? Idk how accurate#that is but that's essentially what the vessels are. A hybrid species that behaves and looks a lot like the extinct one yet the differences#are significial enough that they're technically not the same thing. And since nobody knows how void beings were like its anyone's guess#which of their traits originated from Shade Lord. You know they could have probably asked it if it didn't want to violently take over#and kill all other gods in rage filled revenge. And then tried to kill its so called children when they didn't want to participate in that.#PK 🤝 SL 🤝 WL parent of the year award#The vessels can't have even ONE good parent sorry#Well SL is less of a parent and more of a...DNA donor? Its kidneys got stolen and turned into babies#Currently in FaaF Norel and PK we're the only ones who studied void so a lot of its properties and origins are a huge mystery. And PK#slowly stopped after the vessel plan began. After Flower/Pure Vessel was taken into the palace the extent of his studies revolved around#them and their health. He only created new moulds when the old ones got destroyed. Guilt played a big part in his reasons for that.#Norel would know a bit more simply because PK's source sample was limited while Norel travelled across wasteland looking for void and#experimented with different sources. And he was considerably more...unethical about them. So he probably knows what void does to a mortal's#body while PK doesn't know much about that bc he was careful to not give any of his citizens and staff void poisoning after he realised it#was dangerous. Also thinking about Norel once having a mole in the White Palace which is how he found out about Floeer and the origins of#vessels. And maybe said mole broke into PK's workshop and wrote down some things before leaving Hallownest 👀 Bc it does feel a little#weird for Norel to know more than PK just like that. And he's a little snake who WOULD steal other people's work.#Like I mentioned previously Norel makes his own constructs which is something I wanted dabble in. Maybe he stole that idea from PK? His#ones are far worse and fewer than PK's but they serve their purpose and he's just starting dabbling in that. By the time he shows his ugly#mug again to terrorise Flower's kids and grandkid he'd probably be MUCH better at that 👀#I love my fucked up little moth#My one true talent is getting wildly off topic whenever sh asks me about my as#Aus*
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Edric/Dark Priest Character intro
You were born with the soul of the Latent, meaning that you hold great potential to improve yourself.
This trait showed itself early in your life, you and your twin sister were born into the Blight family, a well known clan of dark priests.
Your mother was a cruel and obsessive woman, she was obsessed with the family tradition and wished to raise the ‘perfect’ heir.
For this reason she pitted you against your twin with ritual daggers and made you fight each other until one of you ended the other.
A life like yours would show its strength as time passed but it was too early for you to win, your sister held the knife to your throat but chose to show mercy at the last moment.
Your mother was displeased by this and an opportunity presented itself, you…
Strike your dagger into her spine while she walks away (Necromancy)
You struck your dagger into her spine and your mother seemed pleased for once, yet you would come to regret it.
In the invitation ceremony that followed, you were able to resurrect her as a ghoul, your mother’s praises rang hollow.
As the years passed you became bitter and cold, not caring for anything your mother said anymore.
Eventually, your younger sister was born but she wasn’t able to match the expectations of your family, so she was sold off into slavery after her ninth birthday.
Accept your defeat (Mastery over insects)
There was no place for the weak in your family, your mother cast you into an abandoned well and sealed the top off so she would never see you again.
You were meant to quietly wither away, but you fed on the roaches and insects to survive, but eventually you learned their language the more time you spent down there.
With the aid of your new servants, you climbed out of that well and passed by your old home, seeing it filled you with pain and anger, you…
Set the building on fire and leave (Pyromancy trick)
In your rage, you light the wooden home on fire and run, however you failed in killing your mother. Years later you would find that she survived and had another child, but didn’t love her and disposed of her after finding her inadequate.
Quietly leave without revenge (Enables Dash later)
You realize that revenge won’t fix anything, instead you vow to succeed even after being forsaken by your family.
When beginning your studies, you had to choose which god to dedicate your time to…
Pray to Gro-goroth (+3 affinity to Gro-goroth)
Pray to Sylvian (+2 affinity to Sylvian)
Pray to Alll-mer (+1 affinity to Alll-mer)
Pray to the God Of The Depths (+2 affinity to the God Of The Depths)
You traveled across the world, learning about different gods, deities, rituals and all known sciences. Eventually you were acknowledged by the top scholars of your time.
Eventually, your mother arrived at your home and begged you to come back. You refused and she tried to buy your interest instead which didn’t work, the encounter ended with the police dragging her away from your residence after she tried to injure you with magic.
With that you achieved your true goal, making her regret how she treated her family, you offered yourself as a sacrifice to Alll-mer but while you were on the cross you had a vision.
There was a man who’d been prophesied to bring about prosperity, in this vision he partnered with your former family to assist him, bringing them prosperity.
Out of rage, you ordered for the ritual to end and to be let down from your bonds.
Prophecies were for the weak yet were usually grounded in some truth. You schemed to find this man and turn him to your side. To your knowledge, he’s currently locked up in the Dungeons Of Fear And Hunger.
You decided to stock up before your travels.
Stock up on magical items (Soul Stone)
Stock up on intoxicants (Pipe and one opium powder)
Stock up on healing items (One blue vial, x2 cloth fragment)
Rush straight after him (Dash if certain options were selected earlier)
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HI THIS IS HORRENDOUSLY LATE AND I'M SO SORRY
i'm afraid this meta is shorter than the others, but i wanted to focus on geto's breakdown because there's so much to dig into. without further ado, let's get started!
Where’s the line between I want to destroy the world for him versus simply I want to destroy the world?
What does it matter?
Yuuta doesn’t even want me to destroy the world.
…you could almost say geto's love language is destruction, but he's surrounded by people who don't want that kind of love. luckily for him, though, toji's nigh-indestructible. i think there are three stages that geto has to work through, w/ varying levels of violence:
grief/revenge for killing riko, for setting him on that dark path to begin with
nonshaman discrimination; especially because toji's a "monkey" in the worst sense
geto's own deep denial over the regret he feels towards killing his parents
we're done with 1. regarding 2 & 3 though: how could he possibly accept a nonshaman, a "monkey," as a parental figure? sparing his friends' children is one thing, but this? how could he ever justify the sheer hypocrisy? besides, wouldn't it mean he killed his parents for nothing, even though they, unlike the okkotsus and zen'ins, loved him, and did him no wrong?
geto desperately craves comfort, but accepting it means destroying the mask he so carefully constructed for himself, a mask he donned so frequently it's almost completely melded with his skin. ripping it off isn't just difficult, it's agonising.
consider the hedgehog's dilemma, but with an added element: armour. in order to share body heat, the hedgehog must let someone get close - but what if it doesn't want to? the armour geto built for himself is spiked on the inside and chafes with every step, but he's so accustomed to the pain it's almost preferable to just keep it on. it's comforting in its predictability - there's a sense of security in knowing the pain is self-inflicted, because it means geto has control over the situation, which is so very important to him
...but accepting toji as his father figure means relinquishing control, which is deeply unnerving. it means acknowledging that hey, maybe his ideals aren't perfect. it means that hey, maybe he shouldn't have sacrificed his parents after all -
- and how could he live with himself, knowing that?
After all, the number one way to be cursed is to be on the receiving end of someone’s final words.
Isn’t that why Getou asked them in the first place?
He deserves it.
there's a lot of responsibility that comes with knowing what someone's last words are, but geto seems eager to shoulder it, almost like he's pre-emptively punishing himself for wanting to kill the okkotsus. at the same time, he's also filled with murderous rage towards them for the way they treated yuuta, creating an ambivalence that perfectly mirrors the contradictions warring within him :D
"I'm beyond saving."
"You're beyond saving because you want to be."
well. considering the situation he's in, i can't blame him. wanting to be saved means acknowledging he was wrong, but that's not quite right, either, because gods never err, and geto should be no exception.
that aside, i'm almost fully certain he refuses help because he believes himself undeserving of it. he sees himself as a monster, and monsters don't get second chances. neither do fallen gods, for that matter
..........or do they? COUGH.
okay. ending it here. typing this ask gutted me. hope u enjoyed reading it
DONT APOLOGIZE IM THE ONE RESPONDING TO SHIT LIKE A MONTH LATE
anyway. i totally feel you, there was so much to unpack in getou's breakdown in itself, let alone the rest of the chapter. so without further ado. some semblance of a reply
well i already went insane over "you could almost say geto's love language is destruction, but he's surrounded by people who don't want that kind of love" in our chat but i'm gonna say it here again that this fucks me up SO bad because it puts everything i've tried to portray with his jarring overlap of love and violence.
you could almost look at the way the rest of the ff protects their loved ones as responses to external events and stimuli. they protect their friends and family from emotional and physical pain by fighting threats and healing past damage.
but getou's protection is him making the first strike. shoot first, ask questions later. his idea of protecting his loved ones is offense, contrasting with defense for everyone else.
which is exactly the situation he finds himself in with yuuta's parents, though he at first twists it in his mind as an act of defense -- a second strike against what they did to yuuta. following this logic, he might even try to convince himself that killing all "monkeys" is a defensive thing, since the crime of being a non-sorcerer was more than enough to merit that kind of punishment.
...or is it?
your point of "sparing his friends' children is one thing, but this? how could he ever justify the sheer hypocrisy? besides, wouldn't it mean he killed his parents for nothing, even though they, unlike the okkotsus and zen'ins, loved him, and did him no wrong?" is actually destroying me. because you're right. it's such hypocrisy, but then again, a lot about getou is.
and now he's in a situation where the only person he could possibly call a parent again is also a non-sorcerer. not only that, but the non-sorcerer who destroyed his life, shot riko, almost killed gojo, and sent him on his downward spiral! how is he supposed to reconcile this within himself? i hate to say it, but toji is way, way worse than the okkotsus. accepting toji's parental love is the ultimate hypocritical act.
but as you said: getou desperately craves comfort. and now here toji is, caring for getou the way getou's father once did and telling him he is loved. how could getou possibly reject this?
i think it's important to note that if he so chose, he could've. he's done so much mental gymnastics to justify himself before -- it's not like he couldn't add this to the list.
this brings back the distinction of can't and won't. because while can't is a restriction, won't is a choice.
getou won't reject love. not this time.
god i love him
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Magical summer: Lamia
LAMIA
Category: Greco-Roman mythology and folklore / European Christian folklore
“Lamia” became quite a popular name associated with witches and female demons, but not many people know its actual origins: it was the name of a fearsome figure, a female boogeyman of Greek legends.
I) The mythological Lamia
In Greek mythology, Lamia was one of the many monsters haunting Greece – but also one of the many unfortunate lovers of Zeus, the king of the gods. Lamia was, according to the legend, a beautiful woman that ended up becoming the lover of Zeus – while often said to be a queen of Lybia or a princess of Egypt, one legend claims that Zeus removed her from her birthplace to live their affair peacefully in Italy and that the city of “Lamos” was named after her. Unfortunately for her, Zeus’ jealous wife, Hera queen of the gods, found out about their affairs and enacted a terrible revenge: she deprived Lamia of her children. There are numerous variations of the myth : sometimes Hera took away the children and hid them so that Lamia would never find them again ; other times Hera drove Lamia mad and forced her to kill her own children ; and a few texts have Hera herself kill the children. But all in all, Lamia was deprived of her children and this filled her with madness, despair and rage. So many boiling, tormenting and awful emotions that her very physical appearance became deformed and monstrous. After being disfigured by her own grief and madness, she started hunting down children around Greece and killing them, in the twisted logic that if she couldn’t have her children no one else could. [Another version rather says that she became a monster BECAUSE of her cruel actions and hateful crimes, the act of killing children robbing her of her beauty]. One particularly disturbing account, by Aristotle himself, says that the “beastly” Lamia has an habit of attacking pregnant women, opening up with their bellies to devour their fetus.
The legend gets a bit more complex when you know that Hera did something to Lamia’s eyes. What exactly is unclear, but it soon became clear that Lamia was deprived by Hera of her ability to sleep or rest – it was a way for the angry goddess to make sure Lamia would keep obsessing over her lost children. Some say Hera merely inflicted an incurable case of insomnia upon Lamia, but others rather claim she cursed Lamia with being unable to close her eyes. All in all, the various legend are consistent on one point: to counter Hera’s curse, Zeus gifted Lamia with the ability to remove her eyes from her face, so that she could get some rest – she kept them in a vessel somewhere and put them back in when waking up. Other variations of the legend claim Zeus gave additional gifts to Lamia, to ease Hera’s vengeance : some say Zeus gave Lamia the ability to make prophecies, while others said he gave Lamia the power to shapeshift. And do you remember the little bit about how Lamos, the city, was named after Lamia? Well “Lamos” was in Greek mythology the city in which lived an entire population of hostile man-eating giants, called the Laestrygonians – this led some people to theorize that Lamia might have been their queen at one point.
The legend of Lamia was so famous that Greek historians themselves try to “rationalize” it or “explain it” by so-called “real historical facts”. Notably Diodorus Siculus tried to justify the Lamia legend in this way: Lamia was indeed a queen of Libya, a very beautiful one, but she wasn’t a monster. She was however treated as one due to her savage and cruel actions, as she ordered her soldiers to take children away from their mothers and to kill them. For the idea of her eyes being removed, Diodorus claimed that the queen was a drunkard, who spent so much of her time drunk she did not keep watch over her population and let them do as they pleased – which metaphorically became “Lamia was blinded temporarily and could not see anything”, but in truth she was just black-out drunk.
II) The folkloric Lamia
If Lamia’s popularity survives to this day, it is because she wasn’t just a literary character, a historical trivia or a mythological detail. The legend of Lamia actually became part of the Greek (and later) Roman folklore. The figure of the Lamia became one of the oldest examples of a bogeyman. Nannies and mothers invoked the name of Lamia as a way to frighten children into good behavior “If you don’t stop being naughty, Lamia will come for you!”. It was commonly said she swallowed children whole. There might even have been stories of children being rescued alive from the belly of Lamia, similar to how Little Red Riding Hood escaped from the Wolf’s belly – but this is just a theory based on some commentaries in ancient texts. At this point Lamia also became fused and confused with other female “bogeymen” (well, bogeywomen) of Greek folklore, such as Mormo or Gello, and it was considered these other creatures were just alternate names of the frightful Lamia.
Now, around the first century, a curious change happened to the Lamia legend. From a singular figure, she became an entire race of species, the “lamiai”, and from a bogeyman she became much more of a succubus figure, whose main activity was now to target young men (not children), to seduce them, and then to devour them once they succumb to her temptation. She also got confused with the “empusa”, a sort of shape-shifting female creature associated with phantoms/spectres. One famous story that spread in Greek literature was about a beautiful young man and philosopher called Menippus of Lycia that met a beautiful foreign woman by the side of a road : she seduced him, invited him to her beautiful mansion filled with servants, silver and gold, and they hastily organized a wedding. Hopefully Menippus had a good friend that was wary of all this and found out the truth: at the wedding party he denounced the woman as a lamia. Immediately all the servants and all the wealth disappeared – because it was all illusions the phantasm-like lamia had conjured, and she admitted to being a monster planning to eat her “husband”. This tale gets a bit confusing at the end: she says she was fattening her husband up, which leads one to believe she is a flesh-eater like her previous incarnations. But she also insists on how her ultimate goal was to drink all of the young man’s blood, because she is a blood-drinker and she likes her blood “flesh and pure”. This bit started an interpretation and conception of the lamia as a type of vampire, not eating young men’s flesh but rather emptying them of their blood. Another detail that became popular was the idea that lamiai were foul-smelling creatures: many stories tell of lamia-killers who tracked down the monsters by the stench they leave behind them. Said lairs were often caves, as the original Lamia was said to hide in a cave. We also know that in Roman literature and folklore, “lamia” became synonymous or confused with witches: for example in the very popular text called the “Golden Ass”, a frightful duo of witches is called several times “lamiae”, notably because they murder men, steal their organs and drain them of their blood (plus, piss on their victims’ clothes with a foul-smelling urine).
In fact, the presence of the lamiae in Greek folklore survived to this day: in modern Greece, the lamia became an archetypal monster and typical fairytale character, a hostile female entity that is a cross between a vampire and a succubi, constantly taking children away or seducing men only to drink their blood. On top of being depicted as very dirty women, these modern lamiae are also said to be gluttonous creatures driven by their appetites, as well as very stupid and easily tricked, making them overall much more similar to traditional fairytale ogres.
III) The Lamia of the Christian world
So far I have only spoken of Lamia in Greek literature and folklore (plus Roman literature). But the fame of “lamia” crossed over beyond the country, and she soon became a typical monster of medieval Christianity. You see, “lamia” being used in both Greek and Latin languages, she was bound to end up in Christian matters, and at one point a Latin translation of the Ancient Testament decided to refer to “Lilith” as a “Lamia”, which slowly moved the Lamia from the folkloric monster category to the religious demon one. Of course, the idea of an entire species of wild creatures snatching babies away to rip them to pieces was still very widespread, and so was the idea of the lamiae as a species of spectre-like creatures bent on seducing men to their doom (or to divorce, WHICH WAS EVEN WORSE THAN DOOM!!!!). But Christian clerics, scholars and religious authorities, with the introduction of the lamia in the Bible, had to “upgrade” this all : and so the lamia became a symbol/metaphor/embodiment of either heresy or hypocrisy.
This concept survived in the Renaissance, as the “lamia” became a common metaphor for hypocrites: Angelo Poliziano for example, an Italian Renaissance writer, denounced those that tried to dabble and use philosophy without actually knowing or understanding any of it as “lamiae”. This whole hypocrisy thing did had some roots in Greek literature, as the famous Plutarch already used “lamia” as a metaphor to designate social flaws, in his case “meddlesome busybodies in societies”. But soon it was “The Golden Ass” association of lamiae and witches that won over: in the 15th and 16th century, “lamia” and “lamiae” became an alternative name and synonym for witches, in countries such as Germany. However the tradition of lamiae as monster did survive, notably in England: in Edward Topsell’s “History of Four-Footed Beasts” (published in 1607), he lists the lamia as a fantastical monster of Ancient Greece. He describes her as being a four-footed monster with the face and breast of a woman, but the hindquarters of a goat, scales covering the rest of her body, and a pair of filthy testicles smelling like sea-calves. This last bit might seem random and strange, but it is a reference to the famous comedy plays of Aristophanes (THE great writer of comedies in Ancient Greece), in which Aristophanes used the metaphor “Lamia’s testicles” to talk about a stinking smell.
- - -
Nowadays it is pretty common to describe Lamia as a half-snake half-woman creature, or as a serpentine being, or even as a dragoness. But if you look at ancient Greek and Roman texts... there is no such indication. In fact Lamia's actual physical description is never given. Her true form was unclear and left to the imagination (the same way the "bogeyman" doesn't actually have a specific shape). All we know is that she was monstrous, terrifying, disfigured, beastly. And even when the lamiae were described as seducers tempting men with their beautiful appearance, said appearance was said to be an illusion or a shape they took.
And yet, by the Renaissance Lamia (and perhaps even before) was considered a snake creature. Why?
Well it all started with one little detail... In the story of Apollonius of Tyana and Menippus of Lycia (the story of the illusion-wedding above), the victim's friend denounces the Lamia by using a metaphor that goes as such. "You are warming a snake on your bosom, and it is a snake that warms you". This poetic image actually fed people's imagination with the idea that the Lamia is a "snake" or that her real apparearance is "snake-like".
Later, other people started to look back at various Greek texts and Greek beliefs, and they draw comparison between the Lamia myth and many other similar tales of female creatures, all snake or serpent-like. For example a Greek writer of the first century talked about a colony of man-eating monsters supposedly existing in Libya (Lamia's land): they were described as having a woman's torso, the tail of a snake instead of legs, and "beastly hands". Another famous legend that inspired the Lamia imagery was the legend of Apollo's vengeance against Argos. In this story, Apollo falls in love with the princess of Argos and gives her a child, but the child dies and the princess is put to death for "promiscuity". Apollo, angered at these death, sends a fearsome monster to kill and devour the children of Argos: sometimes called "ker" (a named used to refer to female spirits of violent deaths), other times called "poine" (a name meaning "punishment" or "vengeance") this creature was described by a Roman author as having "the face and breasts of a woman, but a rusty-colored forehead from which a hissing snake protrudes" - and she was said to "slide" into children's bedroom like a snake to take them away. Middle-Ages translations of these ancient legend repeatedly called the monster "Lamia".
There is also the fact that, when Lamia was confused by Romans and Greeks with other female monsters like Mormo or Gello, she also was confused with "Gorgo", who was a reinvention/singularization of the Gorgon sisters. Again, snake imagery. Plus, Medusa the Gorgon had some ties to Libya, AND the sisters of the Gorgons, the Graeae, had a removable eye like those of Lamia.
Overall this led people to see Lamia as being a snake creature. John Keats for example,, in his poem "Lamia" says she is a snake that takes a human shape, while the paintings of Isobel Lilian Gloag depict Lamia as a beautiful woman with a snake's tail instead of legs.
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Wife of Poseidon
WARNING: Contains Smut, Rape & Brutal Murder. If you are sensitive to these topics or under the age of 18, don’t read. Also, if my interpretation of Poseidon is a little off, I do apologise. And he is a little (very) yandere in this. This also contains a character of my own making… so if you don’t like that, don’t read it.
Within Poseidon’s Palace, lives a beautiful woman with gorgeous blue hair that almost sparkled in the light. Her eyes matched the blue of the ocean and her body was so voluptuous, only wearing a white bodysuit with golden accents and pale blue jewels on her collar and her hips. Along with gloves and matching stockings, a sheer blue material connecting her outfit together and trailing behind her. Her name is Aquamarie and she was Poseidon’s Queen.
She was beyond beautiful in Poseidon’s eyes and the perfect Queen for him due to her Humility and Kindness. And no one was allowed to look directly at his Queen unless they wanted their head to leave their shoulders. The God wasn’t necessarily worried that another man would steal his Queen from him, especially since she had already pledged her loyalty to him and loved him unconditionally. He just didn’t want his beautiful wife to be tainted with another ones gaze, especially from his servants.
She walked down the Palace, and into the Throne Room, only to find a bunch of dead servants and her angry husband. ‘Oh dear! Isn’t it too early for this?! I only just woke up!!!’ She ran over to him and asked, “What happened?!!” He looked at his wife and gently stroked her cheek, making her blush and smile under his gentle touch. “They were tainting you with their with words of lust and perversion, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. Anyone who thinks like that about you must be taken out… no questions asked. Now, let’s leave… I wouldn’t want their blood to taint your loveliness”, he told her.
The other Gods believed that Poseidon was actually using Aquamarie more as his property than his actual wife. But the truth was far sweeter. She is the only woman that understands him, the only woman to love him for the brutal God he is, and the only woman he could love. Which is exactly the reason why he wouldn’t want anyone to taint her with their disgusting words, touch or even sight. This was just in his nature, to keep his wife from experiencing anything he deemed unworthy of her.
“Poseidon… you really must stop killing our servants though, or else you won’t have any left. Next time, just try throwing them in the dungeon”, she suggested. He hummed and asked, “Do you disagree with my methods?” She sighed and gently placed her hands on his chest before saying, “Of course not. But you should think about this logically. You cannot always resort to violence when things start to displease you.” He hummed and walked past her before saying, “You know I cannot do that my love. There are reasons for my titles, and I cannot throw that away by suddenly becoming merciful.”
Aquamarie stood next to him in silence and he looked at her before suddenly stopping in his tracks. “Hm…?” She stopped and turned back to look at him. His stance was almost as solid as rock, but she giggled when she saw the softness in his eyes… as well as the slight blush in his cheeks. She placed her arms around him and then kissed him gently. Poseidon closed his eyes and kissed her back, making every servant watch. He only had one weakness and that was the beautiful woman in his arms. No one would think that ‘The Most Fearsome God’ had a soft side and that’s because only his wife saw it. If anyone else did… they were killed.
“I’m sorry… I should’ve kissed you as soon as I saw you”, she said with blush coating her cheeks. He then whispered in her ear, “That’s going to cost you later, my beloved.” Then he held her hand and walked to the meeting room, where many other Olympian Gods and Goddesses were. Hermes bowed respectfully in their presence and then said, “Lady Aquamarie, I have tea and cakes laid out for you.” She smiled happily and said, “Thank you Hermes~!” And then she took her seat next to her husband before looking happily at her spread. “I see that your wife has a sweet tooth, brother!”, Zeus said with a smirk. “Hmph.” “Silent as ever I see.”
After the meeting was over, Poseidon walked out with his wife, who was still eating cake. “Hmm~, delicious~!” He looked at her and sighed before grabbing her chin, making her look at him. “You’re a messy eater…”, he said to her before licking her chin and then her lips. She blushed heavily and finished eating, before looking up at him. “Hm… not my first choice. But it’s not bad either”, he said to her before walking away. “H-Hey…! You can’t just do something like that and then walk away as if nothing happened!”, she protested. He chuckled at the claim she was making and then said, “Don’t dawdle then… come here if you want me to pleasure you but also punish you for not kissing me as soon as you woke up.”
Hours later, in the bedroom, Poseidon had his wife begging for mercy under his surprisingly gentle touch. He had already cum inside of her multiple times but he didn’t let her cum once, overstimulating her. Aquamarie begged and begged as he trusted into her while playing with her clit, making her scream out. He smirked and kissed her neck as he used his other hand to squeeze her breast. “M-My Lord… Poseidon~…! I’m begging you…!!! It won’t happen again…!!! Let me cum~…!!!”, she begged as she leaned her head back on his shoulder. Poseidon loved the fact that his wife was a masochist, but even he knew that she had her limits. She tried to stop herself, but she started to squirt into his hand. He smirked and whispered, “Don’t you dare… not until I finish inside of you again, my dearest.”
She screamed as she was put onto her hands and knees. He spanked her a few times, making sure red marks were present on her. Then he held her hips pretty hard, hoping bruises would form on her beautiful body. He leaned down and kissed her skin, leaving more and more markings on her. He wanted the entire world to know that she belonged to him and only him. She was his Queen, his Wife, his beloved and hopefully one day… the Mother of his children. “I want to breed you…”, he confessed. “Then please… breed me. I want your children~”, she responded before turning around so she could look at him. He kissed her and then said, “Cum with me, my love.” Poseidon grunted as he felt himself cum inside of her once more, but that was nothing compared to her screaming as she came. “POSEIDON~!!!”
Aquamarie fell on their bed as he pulled out of her and gently pulled her into his arms, kissing her head. A giggle escaped her lips and she kissed his cheek. “That was mean.” He smirked and then kissed her properly before saying, “But you deserved divine punishment for not kissing me this morning.” She cupped his cheeks and brought him down for another kiss, wrapping her arms around him. “Hmm… don’t tempt me to fuck you again.” “Hehe~. I won’t… I don’t think my hips can handle it…”, she replied. Poseidon rested her upon their bed and kissed her cheek. “Rest up, my love.” “I will.” As he exited the room, fully clothed, a few servants wanted to exact revenge on the God for his ruthless nature.
Poseidon sat on his throne, looking as bored as ever. His wife was sleeping, there were no more meetings for the day, so he felt as though he could just fall asleep then and there. He closed his eyes and smiled as he thought about his beloved Queen and their future children. But that was interrupted by Aquamarie’s scream. His eyes widened and he grabbed his Trident before heading straight to his bedroom, only to see a few of Aquamarie’s maids outside, attempting to get in. “Stand back!”, he ordered. Once they were out of the way, he kicked the door down, taking it off its hinges and walked in.
His eyes widened at what he saw. Three of his servants having their way with his defenceless wife. Her eyes almost had no colour in them as they fucked her from behind, fucked her mouth and took pleasure in the sight of Poseidon’s wife being violated by them. “You filthy bastards…!”, he said, his voice filled with rage as he pulled the one watching away from her and skewered him with his Trident, not killing him though. He then pointed the bloody Trident at the other two and shouted, “Get your filthy cocks away from my wife, this instant!!!” His orders were clear, but they were ignored.
Aquamarie then screamed as one of them grabbed her hair, pushing himself further inside, hurting her. Tears ran down her cheeks, which was the last straw for him. He grabbed the one violating her mouth and threw him against the wall, knocking him out. “I’m sorry my dear…”. And finally used the end of his Trident to push the other against the headboard, knocking him out as well. His wife then crawled up to him and hugged him. “I-I’m sorry…!!!” “Don’t you dare apologise… they’ll be receiving the worst punishment possible for this”, he whispered back to her. “Maids! Take care of my Queen and clean her up!” They obeyed immediately and two of them helped her stand up before placing a robe around her.
While the servants were being tortured, the maids cleaned her up, and then got her to rest in a hot spring just after her bath. “Is that all, my lady?”, one of them asked. “Yes… please tell Poseidon where I am. I want to see him.” “Of course. Please have a lovely rest”, the maid said before leaving. Tears ran down the Queens cheeks and she cried into her hands, as she felt as if she had betrayed her own husband. The maid walked down into the dungeons and approached Poseidon, bowing in the process. “My Lord… Queen Aquamarie would like to see you in the hot springs as soon as possible.” “Alright…”.
The Tyrant of the Seas was covered in blood, looking at the three servants who violated his beloved wife. They weren’t so much as allowed to look at her, so the crime they committed deserved a fate worse than death. “Call Hades and make sure these three are tortured in the Underworld for all eternity”, Poseidon said as he walked away. “Yes, my Lord.” The God showered himself and washed away the blood before heading towards the Hot Spring, which he only had in his Palace since Aquamarie loved the ones in Japan. He wasn’t too fond of humans, if anything he hated them. But he tolerated their customs, especially if his wife did.
Poseidon wasn’t surprised to see his wife crying on the side of the hot spring. He got in the water alongside her and gently pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry…! I’m sorry!” He rubbed her back and said, “I told you not to apologise. You were asleep, tired and sore. They used that to their advantage… but I can assure you, that they’ve been punished for their actions.” She nodded, but that did not stop her from crying her heart out. Unlike most Gods and Goddesses, she did not have a heart of steel and was very gentle. He kissed her and placed a hand over heart, as if he wanted to heal it. “Hey… you’re still having my children”, he reminded her. She giggled and said, “Yes… Yes I am~.”
END
#record of ragnarok poseidon x reader#record of ragnarok#record of ragnarok poseidon#canon x oc#don’t like don’t read
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Unforgivable - Part 2
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...
Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death
Word count: 2372
Part 1
Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife
AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)
Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that.
You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore.
You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.
But you have no one to blame than yourself.
Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.
You can’t believe what you’ve done.
The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.
“Over there! Over there!”
“By the creek, see?”
“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”
“Looks like someone had a bad day.”
“Hey, Y/N.”
At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.
“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.
The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.
“Well, this is anti-climactic.”
“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”
“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”
“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”
“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells.
The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.
***********************************************************************
Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you.
“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”
You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.
“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.
It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.
“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”
“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.
“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”
“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.
Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”
“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”
“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.
“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.
Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.
“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.
“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.
“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.
Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”
You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”
“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”
You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”
“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”
But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.
“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”
You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.
Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.
It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.
Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.
***********************************************************************
Three months after the accident…
Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.
She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.
The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone.
After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.
Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.
She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.
“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”
“Y/N?” She perks up.
“Uh…no…”
Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.
“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.
With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.
“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.
“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.
The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.
“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.
“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”
Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.
“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.
She smiles for the first time since the accident.
“I am.”
***********************************************************************
Six months after the accident…
Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.
“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.
Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.
The text was from you.
“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”
“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”
“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.
Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.
He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”
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Click here for Part 3!
AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fanfic#black widow#black widow fanfiction#marvel imagine#natasha x reader
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Voyage of the Damned Part 3
Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)
Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.
Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.
Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die, Astrid dies
"It's for the Doctor!" Astrid yelled at Midshipman Frame over the comms. She needed to teleport NOW. "Y/n and him are down on deck thirty-one, alone, against all the Host and Gods know what else and they're doing it for us!" Silence on the other end. "It's time we did something for them," she ended her speech with a finallity.
A moment passed and she feared she'd failed.
But then, "Giving you power," came through the comms.
~
"Only one person could have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like that. And l should know, 'cause..." the Doctor trailed off. You stared at the strange compartment you had found on deck thirty-one.
"My name is Max," a voice finished for him. A strange machine with a head in it came through the smoke.
"Who the hell are you?" it demaned.
"I'm y/n, and this is the Doctor," you pointed at your friend with false cheerfulness, "Hello!" you wiggled your fingers in greeting.
~
"You wreck the ship and the board find their shares halved in value." The Doctor was spelling out Capricorn's plan.
"But that's not enough," you interjected. From what you've learned about them, mad billionares who were losing all their money didn't do things half-way.
"Oh yes," the Doctor went on. "'Cause if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet. Outrage back home!" he growled. "Scandal! The buisness is wiped out!"
The billionare's head nodded. "And? The whole board is thrown in jail, for mass murder!" His eyes shone with revenge.
"While you sit here, safe in the- what's it called?" you turned to the Doctor.
"Impact camber," he filled in.
"I have men," Capricorn gloated now, "waiting to retreave me from the ruins. And enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Enhaxico Two where the ladies, so l'm told, are very fond of... metal."
You were going to puke.
"So that's the plan," the Doctor growled in rage. "A retirement plan. Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us, all of them slaughtered and why? Because Max Capricorn is a loser."
"I never lose," the billionare's head scowled in threat and your voice immediately rang out, mocking, "You can't even sink the Titanic!"
"Oh but l can, pretty girl!" he laughed. "I can cancel the engines, from here!" Red lights and alarms were suddenly flaring everywhere before you could spit in his face.
The Doctor yelled behind you, "You can't do this!"
"Host, hold them!" Caprocorn ordered in turn and began the Gloat 2.0. "Not so clever now, are you? Shame we couldn't work together, you two are rather good. All that banter and yet not a word wasted." The head sighed. "Time for me to... retire."
Ugh, you thought as you furiously tried to get free. That pun alone would be enough to kill a buisness.
"The Titanic is falling, the sky will burn, let the Christmas inferno commence!" Capricorn yelled in victory and called his minions. "Kill them!"
The robots brought up their halos and went for the Doctor's neck.
"NO!" You fought with everything you had but you were late, you'd be too late!
"MISTER CAPRICORN!" a voice you knew cut through your fear.
And it ignited terror. It was Astrid, sitting in a forklift. "I resign," she told the head and drove forward, ful throttle.
"NO!" the Doctor and you screamed, "ASTRID STOP!" "ASTRID DON'T!"
She didn't listen and rammed into the life support system, but its engine was too strong. They were equal and couldn't move each other.
You bit, kicked and screamed, anything to get free.
But then she caught your eyes with hers and everything stopped. There was an eternity in her face. She looked at the Doctor too but you still stared at her.
Then she turned away and stepped on it. The life support lifted and she drove on.
There was no sound. The world was mute as you watched Astrid go over.
You were suddenly at the edge, looking at her disappear into the fire. Someone was screaming. Someone was screaming and you wanted to calm them, help them.
Then you realized it was your own voice.
The world came back into focus. The ship was falling apart and the Doctor was silent at your side. He was staring at the spot where Astrid had disappeared. His face was pale and his eyes blank. You laid your tears aside and took his hand.
"We need to go," you told him, your voice wet with tears. He didn't move.
"Doctor, we need to go," you told him again calmly. You thought that was why he looked at you suddenly, and then stood up.
He rewired a Host with lightning speed. It took you each under one arm and off you went.
When you broke through the ceiling of the bridge, you were still in one piece. Arms you had used to shield your head were a bit bloody and you were sure there were at least two splinters in them. You don't look the gift horse in the mouth, even though you would prefer a different Christmas miracle.
"What's your first name?" the Doctor asked the injured Midshipman Frame.
He answered in confusion, "Alonzo."
"You're kidding," the Doctor breathed as a shocked smile spread on his face. You didn't know. You just didn't know anymore. You were drowing in the emptiness inside you but his name was Alonzo.
"Allons-y, Alonzo!" the Doctor yelled and you held on tight. You didn't scream. You didn't even open your mouth. There was nothing anymore.
The Doctor whoohooed when he managed to right the course of the ship and you were just there. Were you there? Astrid wasn't. And that was what mattered in the end.
~
"TELEPORT!" the Doctor yelled and it didn't matter. "Y/N, SHE WAS WEARING A TELEPORT BRACELET!!!"
That woke you up. You ran faster than ever before, to the main deck where the teleport was.
"Brixton, sonic," the Doctor demanded from the billionare and caught it as it was thrown. "Mister Copper, the teleports, have they got an emergency setting??"
"I don't know, they should have?"
"She fell, Mister Copper, she fell!" the Doctor told him while pulling apart the machine like a madman. "What's the emergency code?"
The billionare interjected, "What the hell are you doing?"
"We can bring her back!" you yelled with everything in you.
The historian explained, "If a passenger has an accident on shore leave, their molecules are automatically suspended so they're in stasis, so if you just trigger the shift..."
"THERE!!!" the Doctor screamed and flicked the switch.
And there was your Astrid.
"Falling..." You could hear her voice!
"Only halfway there, come on!" The Doctor wasn't finished with the teleporter.
"I keep falling!" She was scared. Your friend was scared and you wanted nothing but to calm her. You carefully walked up to her and took hold of her hand. It felt like holding warm smoke.
There were tears on your cheeks already, again.
"If l can find the molecule grid, boost the restoration matrix and-" The computer snapped and threw sparks. "NO-NO-NO-NO-NO!!" the Doctor screamed in desparation, "need more phase containment-"
You sobbed, but you knew what was coming. You just looked at your Astrid Pith, into her crystal blue eyes and sushed her. "Hey, hey Astrid, it's alright. It's me, it's y/n, remember? You're alright. l've got you," you promised with a voice as soft as sunlight.
She didn't look as scared as before. Then, so slowly you thought you were imagining it, she looked at you.
"Let her go," you could hear the historian and you sobbed again.
But then Astrid's voice cut through. "Stop me falling?" she asked and you nodded. You found her gaze with yours and promised her, "Anything."
"She's just atoms," you heard Mister Copper from behind you. "An echo with a ghost of consciousness."
"She's stardust," you concluded as your voice broke. "You hear that Astrid?" you asked, still looking into her blue eyes."You're stardust."
She didn't seem to hear, so you did the only thing you could think of.
"There's an old tradition," you told her and softly kissed her cheek. Then you kissed the other, and then her forehead.
"You dreamt of traveling," the Doctor came to stand beside you. You were still sobbing when you pulled away from her and you didn't try to stop. There was no one there you needed to save face for.
"Now you can travel forever," you told her. You knew what the Doctor would do, and your eyes didn't leave hers for a moment.
You heard him soothe her, "You're not falling Astrid."
"You're flying," you both said in one voice.
You watched as she floated away, through the window into the universe.
Then you turned to the Doctor and buried your face in his chest as you both cried.
~
"I transferred all my shares to Max Capricorn's rivals. It's made me rich," the billionare Brixton admitted, disbelieving.
You were empty, and you were tired. That was the only reason why you didn't tear this man limb from limb. Astrid was dead.
"Mister Copper," the Doctor's voice woke you up. "I think, you deserve one of these."
You turned around and saw him holding a teleport bracelet out to the historian. Then, after the latter took it, he slipped one on your wrist. He took your hand and suddenly you were standing in the snow.
~
"But l can have a house, and a garden and-" You couldn't help but smile a little. At least Mister Copper would be alright.
The Doctor yelled after him, "Where are you going?"
"I have no idea!" the man replied in joy.
"Well, we don't either," your alien smiled gently at you and you tried to smile back, you really did. He looked at you, his brown eyes full of sorrow, and pulled you to him. You held onto him tightly as he hugged you.
"But! Y/N!" the historian yelled and you turned in his direction.
"I won't forget her," he promised you. You were tired, so so tired, so you just nodded. "Thank you," you told Mister Copper for her. "We won't either."
"We won't," the Doctor assured you softly, just to be sure.
Then he opened the TARDIS door and stepped into your home after you. You walked up the way and then stood in front of the controls, lost.
The Doctor walked up behind you and decided he would do anything, anything to keep away the blank look in your eyes. He turned to you and pulled you to him again. You let him, your movements sluggish and dazed.
"I've got you," he assured you. "I've got you, y/n. You aren't alone, and you aren't lost. You've got me." And that was enough. You sobbed into his chest, you didn't know for which time today.
But this was different. This was yours, and you clung to the Doctor as everything in you came to the surface.
His tears joined yours. He'd lost Astrid too, and he hated seeing you in pain. He slowly brought both of you down to kneel when you were too tired to stand.
And that was it. That was what you needed and that was what you had. You would be alright. In time, you would be alright.
#doctor who#doctorwho#doctor who x reader#doctorwho x reader#tenth doctor x reader#10th doctor x reader#the doctor x reader#the doctor#10th doctor#tenth doctor#doctor who fanfiction#doctorwho fanfiction#reader insert#astrid#astrid pith#astrid pith x reader
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Tw/Cw: Major character death (its 3rd life and a canonical death so its expected) ; drowning (not really drowning but its kinda detailed so just in case)
It's night, hours after the desert battle, hours after Scott saw the death message knowing he wasn't able to be with his husband on his death.
The blood still on his clothes, all the dirt, sand and sweat of the battle still there. He wasn't able to do anything besides building the grave and burying the things that were from Jimmy he couldn't even bury his own husband, the body turned into xp minutes after Scott got there. The stupid captain america costume, the armor and the poppy, the stupid poppy that started it all.
He sat in that mountain for hours, looking and crying over the grave, he heard steps coming towards him. He didnt knew who it was, he didnt care, if it was dogwarts then fuck them what could he do to grieve in peace?
The steps grew louder, stopping right next to him, the black shoes followed by the white tunic answered to him. Joel, the man who burned his their walls, who wasn't there to fight in the conflict he had created.
He was silent, as far as Scott could see, he was looking down, staring at the grave. The only sound was the animals around and the wind. Without looking at him Scott asked, his voice low and heavy, affected by the time he spent crying and screaming.
'Tell me, do you know how it is to have your partner dying and not being able to do anything? To have to watch them disappear right in front of you?' He didn't expected a answer, he didn't even knew why Joel was there, but he didn't had much time to talk about it, he didn't want to talk about it, Grian told him it was ok, that he didn't mind if Scott wanted to talk about it with him or cry on him again. But he didn't, he didn't want to talk or think about it, he didn't want to think of how this place would be so much more silent and would look way more dead, he was fine.
'Yes' - Scott broke out of his head by Joel's words - 'I do yeah, it's not very good is it?' For the first time he looked up, the other man had a sad and bitter smile on his face. It was weird seeing Joel without the chaotic grin on his face, without the fire reflecting on his red eyes, who, Scott noticed, were more grey than ever, like the fire had died.
'What happened?' He asked, curious but also letting Joel know he didn't needed to talk about it, he could have conflict opinions about the red player next to him but he wouldn't force to him about his partner.
'We were running, something, some kinda of creature, was attacking us from the water. We didn't know what it was, but it was trying to get us. She told me to run, she was always a better swimmer than me, the water was always her element. But I couldn't leave her, you know? We both knew that she wouldn't come back, and for me it would always be her over me, at any time, any circumstance. And- and she looked at me' - and he could see how Joel was lost in memories, hoe the look in his eyes was soft, it reminded Scott of himself whenever he looked at Jimmy - 'and she smiled, and god- I don't know how someone could look so beautiful in the middle of swamp water, covered in dirt and in such a messy appearance. But she looked so beautiful and I knew, I knew I couldn't convince her otherwise but even before i tried, just- the second i opened my mouth to try and make her run. It got her, I saw her being pushed underwater, I saw the second her eyes got filled with fear, her hand reaching out to me. And I couldn't do anything, I stayed there and I screamed her name, I wasn't able to swim. I knew if I did that I would die, either to the creature, or I would drown, and- and then if I did that her sacrifice would be for nothing. So I ran away' -he saw how he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again, Scott wanted to tell him that he could stop if he wanted, that he didn't need to keep going, but he knew Joel needed this- 'I ran away and I got back to our home. I built her a grave. I never knew what happened, I still don't know what happened to her. But- but I just like to think that whatever happened, whenever she is, that shes happy. I put her favorite things there, her flowers, some photos of her favorite buildings. And our ring, I was keeping it, I would ask her that week- I never did, but i like to believe she would've said yes'.
'What- what did you do after that?' Joel smiled, and Scott saw the red player he learned to fear, the fire came back to his eyes at least for a bit.
'I hunted that thing down, I did everything I could, enchanted and got every piece equipment that would give me an advantage on the water. And when I found it? I killed it, I make it suffer for whatever it did to her'.
'Do you believe she is still alive?' And just like it appeared, the fire was over, his eyes got back to the dark red, and he sighed.
'If I'm being honest Scott? No I- I don't think she is, but I don't want to think about this. I also don't want to spend my entire life hoping she's alive too, just to be crushed in the end. So it's as I said, I like to think she's happy, doing her favorite things. And that maybe, maybe one day we'll find each other again'.
Scott stopped, he looked at the grave again, staring at the 'Beloved husband' words, in a shaky calligraphy.
'Did it make you feel better?' he felt Joel looking at him again, he looked up, serious, hands holding the grass aggressively, angrily. 'Killing the creature. Did it make you feel better'.
And he saw the second Joel understood, how he relaxed, how he looked at Scott with a sad smile.
'Yes. Not for long, but on the second? On the minute I did it? I felt like the most powerful person, I killed the thing that haunted my nightmares every night since that day, I avenged her. And after that i felt empty, because she wasn't back, i wouldn't say it was for nothing, but i wouldn't say it was worth every day and night that i spend looking for it'.
'I wont say that killing the red army will make you feel better, that killing Skizz will make everything alright because it wont. Jimmy will not come back Scott' - he looked at the grave again- 'No matter what you do, he will never come back. But I can promise you that for a second, for at least a minute, you will feel relieved. You will feel happy'.
And he didn't even need to think about it twice, or for more than one second. Just the memories of earlier that day, how he wasn't there, how he wasn't even able to help Jimmy when he died. He wants to kill Skizz, he wants to make the red army feel as destroyed as he felt. He wants to make them feel defeated. He's not a red life, he doesn't have the bloodlust the red lives have, but Scott can feel the rage, the anger, and he only wants one thing: revenge. Jimmy was the one who kept him calm, who would make him focus on other things, and now he's gone, forever, and they will pay. Scott will make sure of it.
He looks up to Joel, the yellow rods around his head shining, his eyes carrying the fury of a grieving husband.
'Are you on our side then?' and Joel smiled, blood red eyes lighting with a sparkle, the dangerous smile getting bigger again. He put a hand on his shoulder
'Down with the king, Scott'
Down with the king
#3rd life#3rd life smp#scott smajor#smallishbeans#joel#smajor1995#major character death#drowning#writing#sorry if the tw's arent the best#im new to tumblr tags
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catch me if you can
Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman
Genres: Mystery / Romance
Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.
Chapter 6/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
The sirens were still screeching, the bright lights of police cars still moving from one neighborhood to the other and Levi’s heart still drumming in his chest when Kenny had grabbed him, pushing him into the dark, empty alleyway.
“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, as he pressed Levi against the rough surface of a brick wall. Even with his mask still on, Kenny’s rage was perfectly visible, his eyes a burning fire.
If he wasn’t so out of it, if he could have shaken off the image of Hange, covered in blood, if he could have heard something rather than her pained scream, the hatred that was radiating from Kenny would have probably scared him.
But now it had a diametrically opposite effect.
“I should be the one asking you that,” Levi roughly threw Kenny’s hands off him. He was shaking, the adrenaline, frustration and fear he had experienced just half an hour ago making an utter mess out of him. He wanted, needed to get it all out of his system. And Kenny’s outrage could be the perfect remedy. “What the fuck were you thinking when you had pointed that gun? Did you want to kill a cop? Do you know what they would have done to us if you got one of their own?”
Kenny’s demeanor changed in a flash – his shoulders relaxed, his breathing slowed down. Patting Levi’s shoulder, he took a step back. With a low hum, Kenny threw away his mask, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
Lightening one up, he looked at Levi, revealing to him a narrow, foxy smirk. "You're so calm, Levi, so rational. Always know better than your uncle. But when I had that pointed that gun," he pressed a point finger to Levi's forehead, his palm imitating the pistol. "Were you just as rational? Because I swear – your eyes showed the exact opposite."
Levi held Kenny’s gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "I was trying to get our asses out of here."
"Could have fooled me," Kenny chuckled, taking a drag of his cigarette and then blowing the smoke right in Levi's face. "I thought you were distracted by the pretty face of that cop," he looked Levi up and down, his smirk growing wider. His eyes filling with something darker.
"Need I to remind you," Levi waved his hand, getting rid of the smoke. "That we're in this mess only because you were distracted by a pretty face. Or you think that cops busting us was a coincidence?"
"No," Kenny lifted his head, releasing another ring of smoke into the air. The momentary silence was interrupted by return of the sirens. The police was getting closer. And that meant they had to run faster. "Traute will get what she deserves, don't you worry. And I hope, Levi," Kenny put his cigarette out, pressing it against the wall. He gave Levi a heavy, loaded look. "That you won't give me a reason to do the same to you."
***
Levi was a bad person. He held no other illusions regarding that matter.
Thief and liar, he wasn't blind or naive enough to pretend he was anything more.
If he was a good person, he'd surrender to police, confess his and Kenny's crimes and serve his time in prison.
If he was a mediocre person, he'd get on a first plane to somewhere far away and never show his face in this city again.
If he, at least, wasn't a complete piece of shit, he'd leave Hange alone and stop lying to her.
Alas..
Lying to her became surprisingly easy. And a sort of necessity too.
This is the last time, he told himself. The last time. I just need to make sure that Hange is alright.
Alas… Lying to himself was becoming surprisingly easy too.
***
Contacting Hange was even less difficult than he had expected to.
Her face was all over the news, the brave detective injured during a mission – there was no shortage of praise to her dedication and courage.
Something warmed in his chest at hearing these praises.
The feeling was almost enough to make him panic. It was one thing when his heart sped up in Hange’s presence. But now he was proud of her achievements as well? A sure sign that he was getting in too deep.
A sure sign that he had to leave.
The last time, he repeated, as he sent a text to Hange.
saw your sad face on tv. are you alright?
Turned out, it was everything he had to do to receive a photo of Hange, grinning at him from a hospital bed, along with an invitation to visit her.
Levi didn’t allow doubts to take hold of him. Before a logical part of him raised its voice and started screaming at him, he grabbed his jacket and left the house. Thankfully, Kenny was out, probably looking for ways to get his revenge.
Levi didn’t care enough to ask him where he was going. After their last fight, they didn’t talk at all. And Levi was more than okay with it. The lesser they interacted, the lesser chances were of them getting into another fight and possibly reaping each other’s heads off.
If Kenny was busy with getting even with Traute, Levi could take a moment to say a proper goodbye to Hange.
Then, he’d leave the city. For good this time.
***
The hospital – when Levi had entered it – was bustling with police officers.
At first, he almost bolted back home. There were too many of them, and the surge of panic he felt was almost too much.
What if Hange knew the truth about him? Her plan with Traute had failed, but what if she had tried to lure him out here? What if she set another – unescapable – trap for him?
But the police officers didn’t look intimidating. Almost all of them seemed tense – exhausted and worried. But no one had spared him another glance.
And when he told that he was Levi and he came to see Hange, some of them actually smiled.
The blonde woman, the one Levi vaguely remembered seeing in the precinct before, even squeezed his shoulder, as he passed her by. She thanked him for being there for Hange and told him he was a real sweetheart.
Levi didn’t think it was possible to feel embarrassed, ashamed and guilty at the same time.
These feeling grew as he met the tall sniffing giant from before. Was his name Mike? Levi was pretty sure it was. At least, he definitely remembered Hange mentioning some Mike. Most probably it was the exact Mike that was standing before him now. He beamed as he saw Levi approach, beckoning him to come closer.
“Man, it’s so good to have you here,” he said, and the sincerity in his tone almost made Levi wince. He was such an asshole… “Hange had been crawling up the walls ever since she was brought here,” the man appeared to be tired, visibly drained, but beneath the face of exhaustion, it was easy to see the genuine concern. Seemed, like Hange was extremely well-loved amongst her colleagues. “Our sweet Han is terrifying in her anger, but maybe…” he tilted his head, scanning Levi from head to toe. “Maybe, you’ll cheer her up.”
“That’s…” Levi cleared his throat, struggling not to fidget under Mike’s hopeful gaze. God, perhaps it’d be better if they just caught him there. It certainly wouldn’t make him feel so awful about himself. “That’s what I’m here for. Can I come in?”
“Sure!” Mike gave him thumbs-up, smiling in relief. “Hange is just behind that door. I’m not sure if she’s alone, I left her side to get some coffee, but…”
Levi was already on a move, already opening the door to Hange’s ward, and, naturally, he ignored the end of that sentence.
Big mistake on his part.
Because Hange, who was half-sitting on the white hospital bed with a bandage on her right shoulder… Hange certainly wasn’t alone. There was a man beside her, and when he shifted in his seat to glance at Levi, Levi recognized him immediately.
Admittedly, he had never met him in person, all communication was performed by Kenny, but that cropped brown hair, those vibrant blue eyes and stupid, ugly moustache… it was very hard to mistake Rod Reiss for anyone else.
Levi froze, heart in his throat. What was Reiss doing here? Did he know who Levi was? Did he recognize him? The slight uplift of his mouth said that he did.
But, thankfully… Reiss said nothing about it.
Instead, he turned back to Hange, a small smile on his thin lips and his hand pointing at Levi. “Is that your young man, detective Zoe? Didn’t know you were spoken for.”
“I’m not—” Hange flashed, shaking her head rapidly. Despite the tense moment, Levi stole a second to admire Hange’s embarrassed expression. She looked utterly ridiculous, and that served her right, a payback for all the times she was the one to embarrass him. “I’m not spoken for, mister Reiss. Yet, at least.”
Yet, at least.
These words sent a pang straight to Levi’s heart. If only… if only he wasn’t himself, and Hange wasn’t Hange, if only they met at the different time, in different place.
If only. A cruel, painful truth.
“Well, either way, it’s good to know that you have someone who cares about you,” Reiss reached out, squeezing Hange’s healthy shoulder. “Even heroes need that.”
“I’m not a hero.” Hange mumbled, utterly bashful. Levi rather liked that side of hers, he decided he wanted to see more of it. So…
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he grumbled, revealing in a vicious glare Hange sent him. It suited to her red cheeks perfectly. “Your heroic deed is all over the news. Certainly, the news wouldn’t lie?”
Hange’s face screamed ‘stop embarrassing me, you asshole’, but in the presence of Reiss, the only thing she could do was smile and grip the edge of a bed with her healthy hand a little too tightly. Perhaps, Reiss was the only obstacle between him and Hange’s proverbial fury. Still, Levi preferred the old bastard would just fuck off already. And— that he wouldn’t tell Kenny where he had met his nephew.
“It’s time for me to leave,” Reiss stood up, as though he heard Levi’s thoughts. “But hopefully we’ll meet again, detective.”
“Thank you for your visit and your help, sir. I’m sure that once we combine our forces, we’ll catch those Ackermans in no time.”
Levi had caught himself, before his jaw had met the floor. What were they talking about? Catching… Ackermans? Was it another one of Reiss’ schemes? Was it a careful move to boost his reputation? A way to protect him and Kenny? Or… was he covering up his traces? If so, how far was he ready to go to do it? He couldn’t betray Kenny, could he?
“It was nice meeting you,” Levi was so lost in his head, he missed the moment when Reiss approached him. Now he stood right before him, his hand outstretched towards him. Reiss was slightly shorter than Levi, which – in that moment – offered little comfort. “Mister?”
“Levi,” he schooled his expression into something polite and, more importantly, neutral.
“Levi,” Reiss hummed, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “The name seems familiar. But…” he curled his lips in a smile for no more than a second. It was enough to induce a shiver from Levi. “That’s probably just a coincidence. Have a good night, Levi, and take care of our hero, please.”
“Will do, sir,” Levi promised, squeezing the offered hand just a little too tightly.
He watched Reiss walk to the door, then turn the doorknob, push the door open and then – finally - closed. Only when his short, round stature disappeared, did Levi allow himself to breathe out in relief. He moved a hand through his hair, shaking off the last bits of nervousness. With his heart beating that much slower, he turned back to Hange.
“Is that your new friend?” he asked as he plopped down on a chair Reiss had just vacated.
“Friend?” Hange scoffed. “A rich snob who thinks that money solves any problem.”
“Isn’t he right, though?”
“We’ll see about that, I guess,” Hange lifted her shoulders in attempt to shrug, her face contorting in pain as soon as she moved her injured extremity. Levi swallowed, as he watched her rub the wound gently.
“Does it—” his voice betrayed him, breaking right at the beginning. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Does it hurt?”
“Like bitch,” Hange confessed with a bitter smile. “They give me painkillers, and they help, but… I guess I’ll be away from active duty for a while.”
What happened was the next expected question, a friend ought to ask about that, right? However… Levi wasn’t too keen to hear the answer.
“Your friends are worried about you,” he said instead. He was worried about Hange too, but did he even have the right to be? Even if partially, but he was the reason she had been shot. And he was the reason she was now moping in a hospital.
“Sometimes, they worry too much,” Hange complained. “They don’t even let me work. Mike took my laptop away, and Erwin returned my notebook back to the precinct. I’m dying of boredom here, Levi!” she whined, accompanying that pathetic sound by a petulant kick.
“I’m sure they have your best interests at heart,” he reasoned, doing his best not to laugh. It was his fault Hange was like that, but even so, he couldn’t deny that she looked almost unbelievably ridiculous. And cute, really, really cute.
And… that was another sign that he needed to get out of this city as soon as possible.
“Rest may be good for my body, but it’s bad for my brain.”
Hange fell silent after that. With the thumb of her healthy hand raised to her lips, she stared into nothing. Levi could practically hear the sound of gears turning in her head.
He didn’t like where this was going.
“I know I’m asking a lot…” Hange mumbled, suspiciously avoiding his eyes. “And I’ll understand if you decide to refuse…”
Levi tsked and rolled his eyes. All these dramatics… “Just say what you want from me.”
“Like I said it’s a bit too much,” she began slowly, still unsure. Levi kicked the leg of the hospital bed to speed up the process. It seemed to have a rather positive effect. “But since you’ve already been there and I have the key, could you…”
“Steal your damned notebook for you?”
Hange’s face lightened up as she nodded, and, met with that delighted expression, Levi could only sigh. He already hated himself for it, but… he was a reason Hange was here in the first place, right? He might as well do something to make up for it.
Besides… he really liked that happy smile.
“I’m not asking you to steal!” Hange ardently assured. “You’re not a thief, after all,” she laughed at her own joke, while Levi tried very hard not to cringe. “I’m asking you to deliver my notebook from my office.”
Levi didn’t answer right away, and Hange, probably sensing his doubt, continued, “The precinct is almost empty, since it’s Saturday, and everyone is either here or at home. And even if you do run into someone, just tell them you’re running an errand for me.”
“You make it sound so easy,” he said, shaking his head. He had already decided he was going to help Hange out, but there was nothing wrong with playing a little too hard to get.
“It’ll be easy, I swear! And if you bring me the notebook…”
Hange winked, her smile enigmatic. Levi couldn’t deny, that smile had him intrigued. “If I bring the notebook?”
“I’ll think of a way to thank you for that! Perhaps, when we go on that date you promised me…”
The date on a skating rink, Levi almost forgot about it. But as Hange reminded him, the feeling of regret returned. He wanted to go there with Hange, wanted to hold her hand as they glide through the rink, wanted to see her spin around effortlessly, wanted her to teach him how to do the same, as pathetic as it sounded, even the idea of falling down and freezing his ass didn’t disgust him, if Hange were there with him, laughing her heart out, he probably would forget about the pain and cold. If Hange were with him, perhaps, he’d be able to forget about many things.
And that’s why he had to leave.
“Alright, I’ll bring your stupid notebook,” he conceded, getting to his feet just a little too quickly. Hange’s warm gaze was too hypnotizing. It was dangerous, it was doing something to him, and that something was making it very hard for him to leave her side. “I’ll be right back, just…”
“Stay here?” Hange snickered. “I can’t exactly run away right now, Levi.”
“Right, right,” he nodded, and then, because he was going to enter the police precinct on his volition, because he was doing this for Hange’s sake, because he was the most despicable human being in the world, he reached out and pressed her head to his chest. Hange could probably hear how loud and quick his heart was beating, Hange’s heart – if he deciphered the beeping of medical equipment correctly – was beating almost just as fast. “See you, Hange.”
The softness of her hair was surprising, the warmth of her body was so pleasant, the desire to kiss the crown of her head was almost irresistible, but…
Apparently, he wasn’t a complete asshole.
The hug lasted for no more than a second, but for Levi it seemed like hours had passed. And still, it wasn’t nearly enough.
That step back felt like the hardest thing Levi had ever done. As soon as Hange’s warmth had disappeared, he started to miss it.
“I’ll be waiting,” Hange promised with a smile so gentle, it was…
No. He had already done enough, far more than he should have.
If he did something more, if he kissed her, would he really be able to leave? Levi didn’t want to know the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he’d like it.
He forced himself to walk away, his stride much swifter than usual. He hoped that breathing would be come to him much easier, when the distance between him and Hange grows bigger.
But apparently… he wasn’t lucky enough.
***
Getting inside the precinct was laughably easy.
The security guy at the entrance had attempted to stop him, but let him pass as soon as Levi mentioned that he was running an errand for detective Hange Zoe.
Either Hange’s name held a pretty significant value around here, or, more probably, the police was full of incompetent, lazy pigs.
Honestly, a middle schooler could infiltrate this place.
Not that Levi looked like a middle schooler. His face was much more mature. If he scowled hard enough. He hoped so, at least.
Just as Hange had predicted, the precinct was mostly empty. He passed a few closed doors that had a narrow ray of light coming underneath, but as he repeated the path Mike had showed him before, Levi didn’t meet a single soul.
The long hallways were scarcely illuminated, and some lightbulbs were flicking in and out, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The tension in his shoulders grew bigger as he moved further and further... right inside the lion’s den.
Kenny would have called him a fool. Kenny would have called him shit-for-brains, a fucking idiot, a stupid fucker. Kenny, if he had known where Levi went, would have hit him until all his idiocy disappeared.
Although… the idiocy was too deep inside him now, Levi wasn’t sure that even Kenny was up to task of getting rid of it.
Perhaps, if he’d leave… Perhaps, perhaps. He’d had to leave the city first.
He had to leave the city, Levi decided and as he got inside the elevator that would take him to Hange’s office, he took out his phone and booked the closest flight available.
Singapore, awesome. He always wanted to visit.
The floor, where Hange’s office was located, was just as lifeless. All cubicles stood vacant and the rest of the offices were empty too. Perhaps, most of the officers were back at the hospital, watching over Hange. It was a good thing that she had someone to care about her. Hange deserved that, maybe, even needed that. Especially after dealing with asshole like him.
Just before entering the door, Levi paused with his hand on a doorknob. That tense feeling, that premonition returned and intensified. His stomach was in knots, making him almost nauseous.
It was ridiculous, stupid, the whole precinct was empty, he had seen so himself, but… the alarms in his mind were ringing, begging him to reconsider and go back before it was too late. Before it was too late for… what?
Levi couldn’t answer that question, meaning his sudden panic was stupid, and he himself was stupid for being a scaredy cat. It was so unlike him, and it was foolish, the last couple of days were probably just getting to him, making him more paranoid than usual.
Stop acting like an idiot, he chided himself, swallowing all of his worry down. He exhaled, relaxing the tense muscles of his back. With another mental kick, he pressed on a doorknob and opened the door, doing so unnecessarily slowly.
Just as he knew it would be, the office stood empty.
Levi didn’t waste another moment by being a damn idiot, and walked inside, heading to the desk Hange was occupying back when he had visited her that one time. The mess of paperwork, pens, paper cups and empty boxes from takeout food that had accumulated on the desk was a proof enough that this work space had really belonged to Hange.
Now, if only there was just a little more light… Levi located the desk lamp fairly quickly, but where was a switch to that fucking thing? He moved his hand up and down, his fingers searching and searching…
The light turned on before he found the switch.
It wasn’t the desk lamp though, it was a luster right above his head.
Levi jerked, whirling around, to the door behind him.
As it turned out, he wasn’t completely alone in the office. Hange’s boss, Captain Erwin Smith was still at work, despite the late hour.
“Levi,” he started to approach him, slowly at first. But the office was rather small, and, despite a step that Levi had taken back, despite his thigh pressing into the edge of the desk, the distance between them was shortening at a speed he wasn’t completely comfortable with. “I was waiting for you.”
He was? Why? Did Hange tell him something? Did she warn her boss about his visit? Why would she, if Erwin was the one who had taken her notebook in the first place? Something wasn’t adding up, and Erwin’s guarded face, damn that stoic man, wasn’t helping him solve that riddle.
“Sit down,” Erwin walked just a little too close to Levi, and then turned, taking a seat at Hange’s desk. Awkwardly, with his legs refusing to cooperate properly, Levi sat down at the opposite side. “Do you want some coffee? Or tea? Hange mentioned you like it a lot.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
What was he going? What was Erwin doing here, why was he looking at him like that – like Levi was a test subject and Erwin was watching his every move behind the lens of a microscope. The comparison almost made him squirm.
“I’m glad you showed up,” Erwin had his hands folded under his chin, his eyes never leaving Levi’s face. His gaze seemed just as neutral as his expression, perhaps, even a little friendly, but the premonition had returned, so much stronger than before.
“I’m here because Hange asked me to,” he said, wondering why his voice sounded so quiet, almost shaky. Levi straightened in his seat, meeting Erwin’s gaze squarely. He wouldn’t let this man intimidate him. Unless, of course, Erwin gives him a reason to be intimidated. “She wanted—”
“Her notebook, yes,” Erwin nodded. “I guessed already. And I’m sure you’ve jumped at the opportunity to get inside her office. Isn’t that right, Levi? Or,” he paused, but Levi knew what he was going to say, knew what Erwin knew, could see it in his eyes that now had betrayed his true feelings and looked more like two icy shards. These eyes, they pinned Levi down, he helplessly stared into them, seeing nothing but hatred and disgust. “Or, perhaps, you’d prefer if I called you Mister Ackerman instead?”
Levi knew what was coming, and, still, his stomach fell. Millions of question swirled around in his head, and that was the only thing that kept him from bolting out of his seat.
How did Erwin find out? When did he find out? And most importantly, did he tell Hange? Or… was the she the one who discovered the truth?
All these questions had Levi on edge, but Erwin… Erwin didn’t seem too keen to answer any of them.
“Did you know there are only four men named Levi in this city?” Levi didn’t know if the answer was expected of him, but Erwin didn’t seem too interested in what he had to say, because after a brief pause, he continued, “One of them is a teenager boy, he’s an athlete, who is raised by a single mother. Another one is a middle-aged, bald man with three kids and a wife, the other is an eighty-year old man, who lives alone on the edge of the city. The last one,” Erwin’s eyes flashed, and Levi swallowed. Just like before, he knew damn well what was coming. “Doesn’t really count, I guess. He had died some twenty years ago, along with his mother. Do you, by any chance, know the name of his mother?”
There was a lump in his throat, one that appeared each time his mother was mentioned, one that made it hard to breathe and pressed on his chest, heavy enough to hurt. But Erwin looked at him expectantly, like his question was a test. A test of what, Levi wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to show his weakness, not in front of this particular man.
“Kuchel,” he said, his voice as steady as it could be, considering he was shaking from inside. “Her name was Kuchel Ackerman.”
Erwin nodded, his features sharpening even further, turning into a stone mask. “I refused to believe it at first, when I first looked you up after meeting you right in that office. It appeared to be a horrible coincidence, a weird conjunction. You seemed genuinely interested in Hange, not in her work, and I was ready to give you the benefit of the doubt, waiting for a sign that would support or destroy my finding. But last night was enough of a proof.”
Was it? How so? Did Levi make a mistake? If so, then were? And how did Erwin see it?
“Last night Hange was shot,” yeah, Levi was there, and Erwin knew that. What importance did it have now? “But she isn’t dead, not like that politician from a week ago. Your partner in crime,” ah, so Kenny wasn’t yet discovered. Apparently, he wiped the traces of his existence much better than Levi did. “I guess he is the one who usually dirties his hands, and that means he was the one who killed that man. Hange was supposed to die that night too, right? And you were the one who prevented it."
Having said everything he needed, Erwin fell silent. For a long moment, there was no sound, except the tick of a clock, Erwin's calm breathing and Levi's much frantic one.
"So, is my assertion correct?"
Levi said nothing. What was there to say? Say yes and stroke Erwin's ego? Or deny it and look like a fool?
"I'll take your silence as a yes."
His cockiness was irritating, despite it being very much deserved. Still, to be caught by a guy he had seen only once... Levi knew there was a possibility that his involvement with Hange may end with him in prison. He just never imagined that her overprotective boss would be the one to blame for his fall.
"Did you already tell Hange?" he asked quietly, admitting his defeat.
His heart was aching, as he thought of what was awaiting for him next. Was Hange going to be the one to put handcuffs on him? What her reaction would be - would she be gleeful about her victory? Or would that joy be overridden by disgust she felt for him?
"I didn't tell her. She won't know the truth about you. Not from me, at least."
Levi widened his eyes, staring at the man in front of him with shock and incomprehension. Was he... telling the truth? But why?
"Hange would be dead, if it wasn't for you. That's why I'm inclined to give you another chance. Leave this city, Levi Ackerman, and don't come back. Stop toying with Hange's feelings and don’t you dare contact her ever again. She deserves someone much better than you."
Well, in that aspect, Levi agreed with Erwin completely.
"You may bring the notebook to her, but that's it. I'm letting you go not out of kindness, but out of gratitude. Don't make me regret it."
"I'm leaving the city tonight." He promised to Erwin, as he stood up, Hange's notebook secured in his right hand.
Not that Erwin needed to know about it, but he was going to leave anyway. Just in two hours, he'd be on his way to Singapore. If he hurried, he might get just enough time to say goodbye to Hange.
A proper goodbye. He ought to give her at least that much.
He left the office swiftly, before Erwin could change his mind. With his heart still racing after a tense encounter, he ran to the hospital.
***
When he arrived inside, the hospital was much less crowded than before. There was a fewer number of patients and visitors in the main hall, and those who still were present, were much quieter, subdued and exhausted. There were only a few doctors around, and their faces were pale, eyes blinking tiredly, shoulders slumped after a long shift. The only ones who still kept their energy were nurses, who ran from one side of a hospital to the other, calling out to doctors or carrying the needed medicine.
Still shaken after his encounter with Erwin, Levi used that semi-calm atmosphere to take a deep breath and put his thoughts into order. He had – for the lack of better word – an eventful day, and who knew what would happen tomorrow? Perhaps, it was the last moment of peace he would have in a while.
He was starting a new life, but the prospect wasn’t thrilling or exhilarating. The only feelings it provoked was dread. And a bone-deep exhaustion.
No rest for the wicked, or so Kenny liked to say. It was one of the few things he and Levi agreed upon.
The hospital hallways seemed deserted too, only doctors and nurses still roaming the place. The visiting hours were already over, but Hange’s status as a new city hero allowed Levi to convince them to overlook that small detail. He had to lie and say he was detective Zoe’s boyfriend, but well… Hange wouldn’t know about this. Even if she did, Levi was going to be on another side of the world in just a few hours.
However, he had to admit… saying this out loud felt good. Unreasonably so.
Hange’s boyfriend… it had a nice ring to it. Perhaps, in another life…
The ridiculousness of that thought was almost enough to make him chuckle. Clearly, it was the long couple of days getting the best of him. He needed to rest, get his head cleared up, leave this city once and for all.
The hallway that led to Hange’s ward was almost as deserted as the rest of the hospital. The number of police officers patrolling her had diminished significantly, only two of them still present.
Levi was not at all surprised to see that tall weirdo, Mike, slumped down in the uncomfortable hospital chair with his hands folded beneath his head. Clearly, he was one of Hange’s closest friends. Levi took a mental note of that, storing that information in that corner of his mind that was dedicated solely to Hange. That corner was growing bigger, and that was another reason why he had to leave, disappear from her life. Hopefully, then Hange would disappear from his life and his mind too.
Next to Mike sat a thin blonde woman, whose name stubbornly eluded Levi. Nana… something. It didn’t really matter. The woman was asleep, her face pressed into Mike’s big shoulder. The scene was adorable, Levi thought detachedly. These people weren’t his friends, they didn’t provoke an emotional response from him, however… Hange would probably like to hear about them snuggling together outside her ward. Maybe, that would make her smile. Levi liked her smile, along with her deep, strangely alluring voice and big, look-inside-them-for-too-long-and-you’ll-drown brown eyes, her smile took the most of that special mind corner of his.
The first thing he saw upon entering the ward was the sight of Hange’s peaceful, relaxed face. Be it the exhaustion from last few days, the pain from injury or a simple, soothing atmosphere of the hospital, but Hange was asleep, her mouth slightly open in an expression that could be described as ridiculous if it weren’t so endearing. Without the ever present glasses, she looked much younger than she actually was, fragile almost.
The second thing Levi was saw the dusty black coat and the stupid bowler hat. The start contrast between white ceilings, blue walls, Hange’s still pale body and that black form was striking enough to make Levi wonder if what he was seeing was actually true. It was easier to write it off as a visage, an image of his biggest nightmare that was conjured by an exhausted mind.
Kenny shouldn’t, couldn’t be here. But he was. Sitting dangerously close next to Hange, his lips spread into a wide, bloodthirsty smirk, he stared at her sleeping form like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
Levi’s blood turned to ice, his insides twisting painfully. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
Kenny was here.
How did he find out about Hange? Why did he come? What did he want? What was he going to do?
There were so many questions, Levi wasn’t sure the answer to which one would be the scariest.
“You know there are over a million people in this city?” Kenny’s voice was quiet, no louder than a machine that counted Hange’s heartbeats. It wasn’t nearly loud enough to disturb her sleep. “And out of that million you had to choose a fucking cop. Is she that special?” Kenny looked him in the eyes, seeming genuinely curious in his answer. “Or are you just that dumb?”
“Both, probably,” Levi shrugged, marveling at how calm, almost bored his voice sounded. Inside, he was anything but.
Kenny hummed, nodded, expressing his agreement, and stood up, popping the collar of his coat. “Let’s not disturb your sleeping beauty then. Follow me, Levi.”
It wasn’t a suggestion or a request, it was an order, and a clear one at that. Levi gladly obeyed it, because the alternative – whatever it would be – was much, much worse.
Kenny led him out of the ward, they passed through Mike and his friend, who were still sleeping, walked through a long hallway, arrived at the stairwell and then went up to the roof.
Once they were there, underneath pale moonlight and surrounded by bright neon lights of a nearby night club, Kenny punched him.
Levi didn’t even stagger, more than expecting that. He didn’t punch back and didn’t defend himself, knowing that he more than deserved that.
Clearly not satisfied yet, Kenny punched him again, then again, until Levi did stagger and fell on his ass. A thin drip of blood dripped from his lip. Levi wiped it off with a sleeve, briefly wondering if the ache on his cheek would turn into a bruise or not.
Kenny stood above him, his face darker than Levi had ever remembered seeing, his fists trembling from either cold or rage.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Levi,” he spat out, kicking his leg. The kick was light, born more out of frustration than anything else. Levi barely felt it. “What the fuck were you thinking? What the fuck were you doing with that damn cop? Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten who you are?”
Maybe, Kenny was right, maybe, he did forget about it. Or, maybe, he pretended to forget, letting his heart have what it so ardently desired. But today he was reminded of his place. Several times already.
And he was an idiot, Kenny wasn’t wrong about that too.
He was an idiot, who followed his heart, who chose the one person he absolutely couldn’t have. That choice, although it was only his to carry, wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Hange and it wasn’t fair to Kenny, to him especially so.
Levi knew about possible consequences, had expected them, but what about Kenny? Had Levi been caught, had Kenny been caught alongside him, his life would have been ruined too. And if Levi made that choice, consciously, Kenny – didn’t. He would never make a choice like that, one that would jeopardize Levi. Kenny was an asshole, a scoundrel, a thief and a liar, but if there was one thing he treasured, it was his family.
He treasured his sister, and after her death, he treasured her son, even if he never actually showed that.
And Levi had betrayed him.
All this time, he was worried, afraid that Hange would learn about his betrayal and grow to despise him, but he had never even thought that he was also lying to the only person in this world, who actually gave a damn about him, to the last part of his family.
Perhaps, Kenny should have punched him a couple of times more.
“You look like a kicked dog,” Kenny rolled his eyes in exasperation, grudgingly offering Levi to take his hand. “Get up, before you catch some shit from this fucking cold. Doubt they’ll let you stay with that officer sweetheart of yours if you start coughing your lungs out.”
“Fuck off,” Levi grunted, but accepted the offered hand and let Kenny hoist him up. “You were the one to punch me.”
“Was hoping I’d knock out that shit out of you,” Kenny briefly glanced at him before burying his head into the inside of his coat to look for the pack of cigarettes, no doubt. One day, the constant smoking would kill him. Then again – with their line of job – they could die at any moment, anyway. Criminals like them had to treasure every second, before they end up in a ditch or in prison. Wasn’t he doing the same, wasn’t he treasuring every second he had with Hange? Perhaps, he was. And now, it came to an end, disappointingly abrupt. “Did I, by the way? Manage to knock some sense into you?”
Levi thought about a notebook, hidden inside his pocket, close to his heart. He remembered how good it felt to hold Hange in his arms, remembered how light her laughter made him feel.
“I think you didn’t punch me hard enough.”
Kenny didn’t hit him again, didn’t even scold him. It seemed like he didn’t have energy for either. He just shook his head - slowly, wearily, and sighed – in disappointment, not surprise.
He walked to the edge of the roof and sat down, his long legs dangling in the air. Kenny seemed spent, defeated, Kenny looked tired and unexpectedly old, like the weight of his years had finally caught up to him. Levi didn’t quite know how to act around him in that state.
Tentatively, staggering slightly, he approached his uncle and joined him at the edge of the roof.
Kenny wordlessly offered him a cigarette, and Levi took it, thanking him with a subtle nod.
The silence fell over them as they both smoked, their eyes glued to the sky above. It was comfortable, this silence. Levi hated to break it, but there were things he needed to say.
“I’m leaving tonight.”
Kenny didn’t ask where, didn’t ask why, he didn’t seem to care at all. Unfortunately, Levi did care.
“Do you want to leave with me?”
Kenny put a cigarette to his lips, took a long, deep drag, released a fat ring of smoke, watched it disappear into the night. He met Levi’s eyes – for a single moment – and then returned to gazing up at the sky.
“Sorry, kid. Still have some stuff I need to finish.”
Levi didn’t ask Kenny to reconsider, didn’t ask what stuff he was talking about. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was a fact that Kenny had a lot on his hands – Traute and her betrayal, Reiss and whatever he was planning to do. Levi had a lot on his hands too, and the only way to deal with all of it was to leave.
Kenny obviously had a different opinion. Nothing surprising, there were lots of things they had different opinions about.
“That cop of yours,” Kenny put his cigarette out, flicking the butt down below, and took a new one. He lightened it up, the lighter briefly illuminating his grim features. The shadows on his face were almost frightening. “Does she know who you are?”
“No,” the word came out a little bit harsher, gruffer than he intended. Levi wondered what the cause of it was – shame or regret. “But she’ll find out someday, I’m sure. She’s more than sharp enough.”
“You got lucky then, if she doesn’t know yet.”
Lucky? Perhaps he truly was. Was he lucky because he was leaving before Hange discovered the truth? Was he lucky because earlier that day she was still looking at him with stars in her eyes? Or, maybe, he was lucky because he wouldn’t get to see how those starts turn to disgust and hatred?
“Her boss knows, though. He searched my name after Hange introduced us. Did you know there are only four Levis in this city?”
“Your mother’s fault, not mine,” Kenny shrugged. “I wanted to name you Bob.”
Levi choked, shock and laughter constricting his throat. “Bob?” he hoarsely croaked.
“Bob Ackerman,” Kenny smirked, taking off his hat and putting it on Levi’s head. It fell down, obscuring half of his face. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Kenny chortled, and Levi couldn’t keep a smile off his face. It seemed like things between them were returning to normal. Levi was relieved.
And at the same, he was sad. Most of the time Kenny got on his nerves, he constantly pushed all of his buttons, but Levi still loved him. In a strange, bizarre sense, he was the only Levi could look up to. And the only one he could trust.
Levi didn’t want to leave him behind, wanted to listen to his stupid jokes while rolling his eyes and calling him an asshole just for a little longer.
But his plane was taking off in an hour. And there was one thing Levi wanted to do, before he gets out of this city for good.
“Kenny, I—”
“I know,” he cut him off. Kenny looked him in the eyes, and if Levi didn’t know him better, he’d say that the smile on his face was sad. “Young love and all that, right? Go, Romeo. Make sure your Juliette doesn’t put handcuffs on you.”
Levi stood up, hovering over Kenny awkwardly. They never, ever hugged. But in this moment, it seemed appropriate. People did hug, when saying goodbye to your loved ones. It was a totally normal thing. Could he and Kenny be like normal people too?
Bracing himself, Levi turned to face his uncle. He only started raising his arms, when Kenny snorted.
“Don’t make this weird, Levi.”
Apparently, they couldn’t even pretend to be normal.
“And you can keep my hat.”
Levi scoffed. “Now you’re the one making this weird.”
“It’s my old age, I guess,” he said. “Now shoo, kid, you don’t have much time. And remember - whenever you go…” Kenny paused, winking conspicuously. “Stir up some trouble, alright?”
Despite himself, Levi chuckled. “Don’t go around being boring too, old man.”
“That you can be sure of,” Kenny tilted his head, at the last moment remembering that his loyal hat wasn’t with him anymore. “And if you go into hiding, make sure you don’t go too deep.”
“So you’ll be able to find and pester me?”
“You know me so well.”
Levi did. And he was going to miss his nuisance of an uncle. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For everything, for—”
“Yeah, yeah, for raising you and teaching how to be so damn good at stealing stuff. I know you love me more than anything and you think I’m the coolest guy ever, Levi. Now stop being an embarrassment and leave me alone already.”
Hiding another smile, lest Kenny would think that his words were actually not so far from the truth and Levi did like him so much, Levi threw another glance at the night city, briefly squeezed Kenny’s shoulder and headed back inside.
The hat kept falling on his eyes, it was clearly a size or two too big, and Levi was sure he looked absolutely ridiculous, but… it brought along a sense of comfort.
When he came back to Hange, two police officers by her door were still sleeping. Levi passed them without a second glance.
Inside the ward, Hange continued to snore too. He had to hurry to the airport, his time was running out, yet Levi sparred a long moment to commit her face to his memory.
His eyes traced every feature – from the wide forehead and closed eyes with long dark eyelashes that fell elegantly on her cheeks, to the curve of her nose that had small dots of freckles and her rosy lips that were slightly curled upwards.
She was probably dreaming of something so pleasant. Levi wondered what that dream was about.
The only imperfection on her face, the one thing he resolutely didn’t like was a lock of hair that fell just over the tip of her nose.
With a feather light touch, Levi brushed the offending lock away, holding it between his fingers just a little too long.
You’re acting like a creep, he chided himself. Besides, he was going to be late to his flight.
With a heavy sigh and lots of effort, Levi took a step back. He put the notebook on the table next to her bed, briefly marveling at the amount of gifts that had already accumulated there.
Apparently, Hange was very well-loved.
Just at the edge of a small table, he saw a pen that was probably forgotten by the hospital stuff.
Overcome with a sudden impulse, Levi grabbed that pen and opened the notebook on the last page.
Since he couldn’t actually say goodbye, he should write a small note. Whether Hange would even see it or not, whether she would understand who he truly was or not… he wouldn’t be there to witness the result, right?
Right, he decided and started writing.
Too bad I couldn’t make it to that skating rink date. But we still had lots of fun, right? At least, I did.
Be good and kick all of their asses. I know you have it in you, four-eyes.
Whether his abrupt leave, the absence of any kind of conclusion was a good thing or bad, Levi couldn’t quite decide yet.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth, made him feel melancholic, lonelier than ever, but… maybe, it was for the best. Levi didn’t like goodbyes, avoided them at all costs. There was only one person he had ever said goodbye to, and his mother never returned.
He hadn’t said a proper goodbye to Hange, didn’t really say it to Kenny too, and perhaps… Perhaps.
As he left the ward, Levi didn’t look at Hange even once. He tried to pretend that he didn’t care, but the truth was he was afraid that so much as a glance would make it impossible for him to leave that what could have been behind.
He made sure to close the door quietly, but somehow the sound managed to wake up Mike.
He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking owlishly. “Levi?” he mumbled sleepily. “Are… you wearing a hat?”
Levi had forgotten about that thing entirely. But after Mike had mentioned it, he took it off, hiding it behind his back.
Once that embarrassment was dealt with, he cleared his throat. “Hange is sleeping. She’s fine, as far as I could tell.”
“You’re leaving already? Well, make sure to come back soon. Hange will be so happy to see you again.”
“Yeah,” Levi swallowed, the lump in his throat suddenly becoming too big. “I’d be happy to see her too.”
And at the same time he knew, it’d be best for both of them, if their paths never cross again.
“Tell Hange I said hi. And… that I’m going to miss her.”
Levi ignored Mike’s confused question, he ignored his insistent calls. He took one brisk step after another, resolute and determined.
He had done everything he wanted to. And now it was time to leave this city behind.
Once and for all.
#if i had to think of a summary for this chapter#it'd be something like: levi having conversations with other people while all he wants to do is talk to hange#levihan
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heyy i just read your fic Case of the Munchies on ao3 and im Loving it!!!! its amazing!! i was wonder if youre accepting requests and if you haven’t done it could you write the same for the rest: mammon, levi, satan, belphi, dia, barbatos and smth for simeon and luke (ofc platonic) like how angles have a true form and that means they can never relax around mc and how solomon has so much power at his fingertips he can just snap and end them or smth like that? pretty please and thank you!!!!
A/N: Of Course! Of Course! I already did Mammon and Levi HERE so I’ll do the other four in this request! You sent me a lot of good ideas and I’ll sprinkle them out into other requests soon!
Hope you like it!!
Case of the Munchies prt 3!
Word Count: 4.2k
Characters: Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos
TW: Mentions of eating and cook humans, very mild gore
Satan
As the only full-blooded demon of the seven, he has thought about it...just hypothetically of course. When you were new to the Devildom he did find your scent more appetizing than the others. It’s a good thing he has the most restraint and control of all his kin, especially when it comes to his more base urges.
He doesn’t hide this knowledge from you. It’s readily available in the library and his own room in the history books. He just won’t bring it up. So if you don’t say anything, he won’t either. What would he say anyway? “Yes, I’ve thought about it, up until it was outlawed it was a staple of our diet after all…” Ye, probably not the best thing to say.
When you finally brought it up he was exasperated. Did you have to bring it up during the few hours he had alone with himself? He wasn’t going to lie but the thought of hurting your feelings would just about do him in.
He will alleviate your worries if you have any. If Satan was anything, he was genuine.
Mini Fic
His wine curdles in his stomach, turning sour along with the take-out he had nabbed for the two of you to enjoy tonight. Drinks and dinner were becoming a staple in your T.V. night tradition. If one of you had had a rough day you would drop by your favorite shop of the hour and pick up a meal to share while you vent.
Today in particular had been a shit day for him. Failed experiment after failed experiment, and one bottle that didn’t explode on impact with the potion he dropped. Sigh. At least your comforting words soothed his wounded pride a little. You chuckle at his escapades glad to see he is not hurt at least. It was nice to have someone to see the humor in something that normally would have dampened his mood.
“You’re a pest.” He laughs at you while snapping his takeout chopsticks in half to use. “I need sympathy-hours of work wasted.” You snort into your own bowl of udon.
“You need words of praise like Beel needs another stomach.” Satan gasps in mock insult pointing a sauce stained chopstick at you.
“How dare you insult your host! After I toiled over this meal of-” What did he get exactly? Honestly, when he placed the order he was near boiling with rage at his careless fumble. It was to be a surprise for you, something to give you a bit of magic while supervised by himself. He knew how frustrated you were with your lack of magical ability in class so he wanted to gift you something grand. Now he has to wait months to try again.
Ah, well...nothing ventured nothing gained as they say.
You watch him sulk over his soup dumplings, his mile away from the comfort of your company and his room. “Come on blondie.” You poke him with your foot before burying them under his pajama-clad thighs on the couch. “Eat your ‘hard earned’ meal before I do.” You snatch up his D.D.D forgetting your own food for a moment to set up your favorite streaming service to cast to his small T.V. “Want to watch a bunch of humans fail miserably at baking?”
"I thought you would never ask."
Satan feels you stiffen in his arms two hours into your bake-off marathon. Your takeout boxes are cold and forgotten on his coffee table, a bottle of wine gone between the two of you. He glances down at you curious.
You were transfixed on the screen. The novice baker on screen was struggling to keep his monstrosity of a cake upright. It was the annual Halloween episode and this fool went for a Silence of the Lambs inspired cake. A good concept really, but very poorly executed. The fake body parts and sugar blood weighted the pastry down dangerously. If he were, to be frank, the cake was also tacky as hell. Heh, he'd have to try to make this for Lucifer.
"Does his abuse of the piping gun offend you that much?" He jokes wrapping an arm around you.
Your laugh is breathy and lacks its usual warmth. "It is excessive isn't it?" You look up at him. "Hey, Satan-have you ever eaten people before?"
"Uhh…" Great, how eloquent. This came out of nowhere, did Lucifer set you up to this? No-no you wouldn’t. Would you hate him if you knew? “I have.” He admits through clenched teeth waiting for your reaction.
“Didn’t Diavolo ban it?” He can tell you are doing the mental math in your head.
He chuckles dryly. “Well, you never asked if I did it legally.” You move away from his touch and pause the show. “I mean...I did it legally! ” His mouth runs freely, his brain screaming at him to shut up.
“Satan.” You cross your arms unimpressed.
“It was a new law and I never meant to eat it for the most part. It was at a time where I was still struggling to control myself.” Young and stupid as Lucifer had said defending him every step of the way when he would slip up. Was it sold on the black market now? Yes. Did he know how to get it? Sure, but he would never nor would he tell you about it either.
You nod thinking about his words. “I can empathize.” Oh, thank the Devil. “Have you thought of eating me?”Ahhh. “Oh my God, you have.” You chuck a pillow at him with a laugh.
He catches the pillow and clutches it to his fiery hot face. “Everyone did at first!” If he was going down then he was going to take every one of his brothers down with him. “I wasn’t going to act on it! It was a spur of the moment-why are you laughing!”
“Sorry, sorry.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes wishing you had your phone to take a picture of his blushing face. “I kind of figured you did.”
Satan looks at you incredulously. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more torn up over this?”
You shrug. “After everything we’ve been through? I admit it was a shock to think at first but I mean, you would have done it by now right?”
“Well, thank you?” He flops back on the couch, still clutching the pillow to act as a barrier between you two. He’ll take it as a compliment.
You scoot close, nudging his knee with yours. “You ok?” He nods. “Can I touch you?” He nods again eagerly. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Sorry, I made you uncomfortable.”
Satan chuckled, dropping the pillow to hug you back. “It’s ok.” He peaks your forehead. “Now, with that out of the way. Shall we finish this?” He swipes up his phone to hit play. You nod, flinging your legs over him to snuggle closer. “Good, I’m dying to know how he tries to save that thing. I’m putting money on icing.”
“You know.” You break the silence once more, unable to stop yourself. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being eaten...in some ways.”
Belphegor
After your first *ahem* encounter, he doesn’t bring up the whole food thing. He is afraid that if you learned about it, it would be the last strike for you and his relationship. Perhaps it’s paranoia on his part but better safe than sorry.
In all honesty, he didn’t eat it that much anyway. Killing humans was something he did often in his youth as a demon. A stupid attempt at revenge on his part. It filled the holes in his hearts to hurt those he believed killed his sister.
But to eat their flesh? Disgusting. He tried it a few times and it turned his stomach with every mouthful. He just hated them too much to even stomach them. He’s mellowed out with time but still never got a taste for it.
When you asked it was a shock but welcomed in a way. Like he could finally get this weight off his shoulders every time he looked at you.
Mini Fic
“It’s gross.” Belphie yawns, jumping up to sit on the high garden wall. He bends down to help you up placing you gently next to himself. The wind catches you by surprise threatening to topple you back from the wall before he rights you. He tosses his sweater over you with a nod of satisfaction.
You snuggle into the fleece lining burying your nose into the fabric. It smelled of elderberries and honeysuckles. Belphie watches you curl up into his side with a fond smile. “Seriously, you all are nasty.”
“Ouch!” You push his shoulder with a grin. “I feel like I should be offended on behalf of all humans.”
Belphie snorts, looking up into the bright colors of the night sky. “Good. Be offended. You, humans, are slimy.” You squawk indignantly. “It’s true, never in all my years would I willingly ingest it.” He shudders theatrically.
“Rude.”
“Shouldn’t you be happy? Lest I eat you?” He growls playfully, taking a swipe at you. He pulls you close to kiss the pout off your face. He stops only when your face is hot and your smile threatens to pull a muscle. “I’ll keep you safe, always.” He vows resting his chin on your head.
“Do you think other demons would try to eat me?”
“Have you met my twin?” He teases. He takes your jab to his ribs with a smile. “But if one of those lesser demons even tries to breathe in your direction I’ll kill them.”
“Ok, Mister sleeps till dinner.” You joke. His vow warms your heart a little, chasing away the small bit of fear that had rested itself in your chest. You saw how some demons looked at you at R.A.D, the longing and hungry looks got to be a bit much sometimes. A few older demons would discuss it loudly when they knew you were close by. Apparently, it was a long standing tradition of demons eating humans both body and soul when a pact was concluded.
Imagine what those brothers would do to them…
You shake your head hugging Belphie closer. You had nothing but his word that he would keep you safe, yet that was enough for you. Besides, he wasn’t one to follow the rules even at the best of times.
“I’m serious. You're off limits for everyone.”
You nod into his shirt, closing your eyes to enjoy the peace of the moment. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Diavolo
It is so far from his mind that when you say something it is like a rug was taken out from under him. He could be diplomatic about it, but you deserve better than a half-truth.
He was a wild child in his youth. Sometimes he would overindulge in his father’s heritage and gorge himself on his newfound powers and privilege. He would dine with the elders and eat with abandon under their proud eyes.
He regrets it now, in your company it brings up a slurry of emotions. Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of his past behavior.
The urge is stronger in him than the brothers, a constant nagging tug in his guts, but he is strong. Stronger both in willpower and sheer physical prowess than them so the pull is more of an annoyance than a burning need. He can temper the hunger in other ways if need be *wink*
He fears what you might think of him if you ever found out the truth, but however you take it he will handle it in stride. He loves you too much not to.
Mini Fic
Dinners, when Diavolo could eat alone, were a rare and special treat. The solace of just being allowed to exist without constantly checking his posture or presentation was a blessing, just him, his thoughts, and a good meal. It was nice to have no paperwork to worry about staining this time or a tedious meeting where he couldn’t savor his meal. No, no this was good. He looks down at his heavily laden plate and smiles. Well, almost… Pulling out his phone he snaps a quick picture and sends it to you with a simple question. Join me?
Private meals were wonderful, but with you, they were perfect.
You arrive faster than he expected, flushed face and clutching a stitch in your side from rushing over. He almost felt bad before he saw the eager look in your eyes. Barbatos helps you with your school bags and coat before placing another plate of food across from the young lord. He winks at the prince before disappearing back through the door.
“Thank you for the invite!” You beam taking your seat across from him. “I hope you don’t mind that I'm not dressed for the occasion. I was just wrapping up a study session with the boys.” You look down at your rumpled lounge clothes.
Diavolo waved his hand disregarding your concerns. “I would emulate you if I had the time.” He looks at his own pressed school uniform. He had another meeting this evening, much to his distaste. “You look rather comfortable.” You smile in delight before tucking into your own plate.
You eat in a comfortable silence reading the room well enough to tell that he wished for some company but not needless chitter-chatter. Barbatos arrived moments after you put your fork down and left with the plate leaving behind a delicious smelling hot drink. You couldn’t put your finger on the flavor but it tastes spicy like cinnamon and coats your throat like warm honey.
Whatever was in the drink seemed to work some magic on the prince. His shoulder droop, his back sinking into the chair as his legs stretch out till they are close to brushing against yours. He starts talking over the drink, eyes slowly lighting up with delight. You drink, nodding along with him as he builds up steam. It was nice to see him so unguarded and light. You listen to him talk about simple innocent topics. You knew how he tried to have these conversations with the others to no avail. The brother’s always tried to stay clear of him, and Lucifer simply dismissed these things most days. Barbatos and the angels were a bit better but still listened mostly to placate him.
“Ah!” Diavolo stops mid-sentence as his door opens once more Barbatos holding a small platter in his gloved hand. Dia claps his hands in delight. “I’ve been wanting to have you try this with me for forever. The human palate is so different, but I hope this is tasty.”
“What is it?” You eye the covered plate curiously.
Dia says a word in infernal. It is harsh and guttural in his throat but his delight was evident in his tone. “It is like...a roasted nut? Sorry, it is difficult to explain but it has been a favorite treat of mine since I was a boy. I hope you like it too.” He opens the lid with little ceremony and tilts the bowl to you. Inside were several golfball sized pods piled on top of each other. Even from across the table you could feel the molten heat radiating from the porous black shell. It looked...ugly. Like a hunk of dried lava. You eye it suspiciously as Diavolo picks one up with his bare hands and bits it. The shell cracks under his sharp teeth, a fang catching in a weak spot with a noise that makes you shiver. Underneath the thick casing, you could see a dark red and fleshy core. He hums in delight pulling put the meat of the seed and discard the shell pieces onto an empty plate. He makes quick work of the innards already reaching for another by the time you casually pick up a seed.
The seed itself was dense and warm to the touch. You squeeze it, noting that the porous coating felt like a mass of steel in your hand. “Dia-how do I open it?” No way you could bite it, not without breaking your jaw in the process.
“Allow me.” He takes it from you and effortlessly cracks it. “It is a tradition to break them with teeth, instead of hands or utensils. Something about a show of strength. I just find it fun.” He shrugs, handing you the broken seed.
“Fun!” You marvel at his pearly fangs. “Those are some big chompers.”
“All the better to eat you with my dear.” He chuckles.
You blink in shock, eyes widening. “Would you? Eat me?”
Diavolo’s smile drops. “No.” He lies on reflex, his political nature kicking in. “No-no wait.” He shakes his head. “I...at a time would have without hesitation.” He feels you recoil. “It was common practice back in the day. To the common demon it was a great meal and for the ruling class a show. He looks down at the broken fragments of shell on his plate. Breaking the shell was far too reminiscent of other things. He squashes the unwanted wave of memories coming up. Instead, he looks up at you.
You sit quietly mulling over his words. You haven’t run yet. “Why did you stop?”
He leans back with a loud exhale. Why did he stop? There were many reasons, none he wished to divulge into at the moment, but he had to say something. “I grew up, and began to resent and regret it.” He used to read human stories of demons and his kind. They hurt their characterizations of him and his people. Yet, they had all been scarily accurate. He wanted to prove that they weren’t stagnating beasts, slaves to their desires. Even if it wasn't a popular opinion.
“I see.” You pick up the seed again. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”
“But I wanted to, and to apologize… such admissions must have ruined your appetite. If you wish to retire-”
“Is it weird if it didn’t?” You cut him off. You felt-not apathetic to the knowledge but close to it. It confirmed a lot of things for you and put certain things in perspective. You still felt safe with him even with this new bit of knowledge. Without a second thought, you pop the treat into your mouth. You gasp in delight. The flavor and texture were not what you were expecting, but was delicious all the same. “Can you open another for me?” You push your plate over to him.
“Of course!”
The food was as wonderful as his company.
Barbatos
You knew he cooked it. He probably knows a million different ways to prepare a human. He is also very blunt about his dabblings in the market.
He doesn’t eat it, hasn’t ever. He sees no reason to, especially since he doesn’t need to eat anyway there is no temptation. He did find the meals he created beautiful though.
Once he lived for the praises of the courts and his young lord. He was a master at all mediums he cared to work with. Time, decorum, or of the flesh.
He is 100% unashamed of his past with the dark side of the Devildom’s history. In fact, he is damn near proud of it. He is a demon and it was a part of his life, if that frightens you, well there is nothing he can do about it.
He’ll entertain your questions and will try to put any lingering worries at ease. Just don’t expect to be coddled when he does.
Mini Fic
Barbatos had very few personal pleasures in his life. His schedule simply didn’t have the space for such things. So why even bother looking for a pastime. It wasn’t until Diavolo gifted him with an old worn cookbook did he find it.
Cooking was a necessity for his prince, but with that little book, it became something he looked forward to doing. Slowly, he began to seek them out, filling his growing quarters with cookbooks and loose-leaf slips of paper. He enjoys reading them. Each book was a little time capsule into the cook's life and memories. Could a mix of spices really remind someone of the arid heat of their motherland? Or does following a certain way of aging meat really honor the writer's late grandfather’s memory? He tries them all, each recipe a little invasion to a happier time.
He wrote his fair share of cookbooks too in his day. Simple modifications to things the young lord liked to the odd machinations of his own imagination. He got good at experimenting with flavors and textures over the years, mastering certain cooking techniques and flavors just for fun. He didn’t share many of them, a lot of his recipes were just too complicated for most. Luke was allowed to look at his pastry books only. The little cherub was enamored with his techniques and wanted to learn as much as he could in the short amount of time he was in the Devildom. Admirable, but he made sure to keep some of his...less savory books away from the boy. He shudders to think what Simeon would do if he scarred the young angel.
You are the only one who has full access to his collections. Whether you liked to cook was inconsequential to him. He simply enjoyed sharing this interest with you. Some nights you would take it upon yourself to be his “sous-chef”. Which meant you sat in the corner of the kitchen and read out the ingredients and steps for a recipe he knew by heart. Sometimes you would add in extra steps in an attempt to stump it. Cute...but ultimately failed each time. So, most nights when you tagged along to the kitchens you just flip through his collection, reading his immaculate scribblings crammed into the corners of the pages or where he scratched out certain ingredients for more demon-appropriate foods and more sustainable options.
You had gone through many beautiful books before you found it. The cookbook was small and inconspicuous compared to most. Just a simple black cover with a well-worn spine. What made you take notice of it was just how dusty it was. That wasn’t like him to do. Barbatos would never let something get so dirty. You wished you never had opened it. You weren’t stupid by any means, but after reading a few pretty graphic recipes it had unsettled you. So you withdrew from Barbatos trying to forget about the book tucked away deep in the bowels of your school bag.
“You’ve been distant.” You choke, hand flying up to your chest as you swear your heart skipped a beat. Damn demon. Should put a bell on him. “What’s wrong?” His eyes are piercing, cutting away at your feeble defenses.
“Nothing…” You fiddle with your bag’s strap. Your eyes drop to the floor taking in the differences between his polished shoes and your scuffed boots.
“Of course not…” You could hear the skepticism in his voice. “I trust that if there was something wrong you would feel safe enough to confide in me.” His words hit like a ton of bricks on your shoulders. He sighs seeing that his words got no reaction. “Please?”
Wordlessly you rummage in your bag and thrust the book into his chest. “Sorry. It shook me up more than I thought it would.”
Ah. He knew this book all too well. For a time it had been his favorite, one to pull out with Diavolo had guests or a deal that needed to be sealed. He accepts the book, noting how much your hands shook. “I understand.” He slips the book into his breast pocket making a mental note to hide it in one of his lesser used rooms. “Would you like to discuss this? In my room perhaps?” You follow with a timid nod.
“Where shall we begin?” Barbatos asks the moment he closes the door to his room.
“You don’t seem perturbed.” You frown. Barbatos shrugs, pulling the book out and opening it. He had a lot of good memories stored here. Some of these were still considered signature dishes, oftentimes a visiting dignitary would lament to him about the good old days when he could show off his craft when flesh was plentiful. He takes pride in that still to this day even. For as much as he loved you, he would not be ashamed of this.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” You shake your head when he says as much. “It just confused me. Do-do you see me as food?”
“I never saw humans as food, no more than I see demons or angels as it.” He picks at an imaginary bit of lent from his pant leg. “As for seeing you as food no. No matter how sweet your lips are, or how honeyed your words can be.” He smiles, taking impish delight in your squirming. “I merely did my job as a butler for my lord.”
“Oh- sorry for not coming to you sooner.” You felt foolish now. Barbatos waves it off, pleased to have this issue put aside so quickly and cleanly. “Wait-" You gasp as his words finally sink in. “Have you prepared angels before?”
He flashes you a mischievous smile putting a single finger up to his lips. “Perhaps~ do you wish to read that too?”
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caught me. | jjk (m)
(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)
↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader
↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k
↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.
↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.
↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.
“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.
He should have known the consequences, he supposes.
Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”
You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.
“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.
Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.
You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.
He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.
No sir, three months is not long enough at all.
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.
For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.
Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”
That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.
Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.
You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.
Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.
As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.
Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.
Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.
It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.
However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.
You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.
You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.
“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”
Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.
“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.
You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.
To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.
You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.
Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.
You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?
Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.
You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.
Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.
The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.
Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.
You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.
You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.
Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]
Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.
5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?
The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.
Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.
5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)
You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.
5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!
Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.
5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!
It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.
You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.
By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.
Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.
His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.
“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.
Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.
He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.
“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.
You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?
When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.
Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.
Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.
You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.
You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.
“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.
Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.
The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?
You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.
With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.
Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.
It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.
The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?
Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.
‘Pornhub’
The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.
You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.
Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.
It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.
You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?
On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.
No, that’s definitely you, alright.
You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.
Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.
No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.
You’re…well, you’re moaning.
Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.
Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.
Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?
A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.
Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.
You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.
Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.
With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.
“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.
His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.
For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.
You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.
You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.
You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.
Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.
Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.
Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.
He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.
As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.
You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.
Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.
You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.
“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.
“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”
Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”
Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.
“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.
“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…
The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”
Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”
Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.
You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.
To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.
Today, you’ve had a shitty day.
Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.
When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.
Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.
Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.
You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.
Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.
After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.
The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.
A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.
“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”
The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”
You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?
“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.
Jungkook sighs.
“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”
You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”
If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.
He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.
You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”
This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.
“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”
Shit.
He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.
Your knees nearly give out.
Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?
He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.
Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.
His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.
Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.
“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.
His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.
Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”
You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.
Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.
“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.
“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.
Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.
“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.
It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.
Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.
He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.
“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.
It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.
Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.
Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.
He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.
He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.
You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.
“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.
When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.
“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.
Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.
You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.
Fuck.
Holy fuck.
“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.
Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.
Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.
Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.
Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”
“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.
He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.
The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.
He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.
His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.
He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”
“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.
He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.
“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.
Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.
“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.
“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.
“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.
“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.
You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.
He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.
You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.
The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.
“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.
“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.
Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.
You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.
You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.
Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.
Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.
The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.
You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.
The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.
You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.
“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.
“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.
“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.
“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.
You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.
“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.
Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.
“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.
You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.
“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.
“What?”
“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.
Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.
“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.
He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.
The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.
“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.
You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.
He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.
“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.
“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.
“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.
He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.
This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.
Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.
“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.
“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”
With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.
As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.
“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.
“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.
Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.
“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.
Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.
“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.
You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.
He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.
“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.
He hates that it’s delicious.
all rights reserved © jeongi
a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞
#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#armiesnet#bangtanarmynet#ggukienet#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bangtan smut#btssmutclub#networkbangtan#bts x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts#oneshot#fic#kpop
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Ghost of you - Part 5
Summary: When your answers doesn’t fill in the blanks properly, the only option is to move forward.
A/N: Two in a row, ‘cause I’m nice like that. Thanks for those who left comments and likes, reblogged and gave me any kind of support. You’re amazing!
I mentioned that this would be slow burn, right?
Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of death… If you find others, let me know.
“And all the things that you never ever told me.”
My encounter with Fury left me felling scarred and open. I knew a name; I knew who I used to be. I knew things about me, but they felt so foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Maybe, because it did. I wasn’t Lara, but was I Ghost?
Later that night, I was assaulted with the woman’s… no, Carol’s crash, Carol going away scenes once again. My head was an utterly turmoil.
It became obvious that my memory from Carol leaving, our brake-up, came after the accident and not in the sequence that Hydra played in my mind. Bastards.
They led me to believe that I was useless. That all I was authorized to feel was void, emptiness.
What did I feel, now? Besides this rage masquerade as fire, what was left to feel?
What was permitted?
I looked at the door as soon as I heard the locks. Romanoff enters my accommodation and I get up, not too fast to not startle her.
“Miss Romanoff, fancy seeing you here without bodyguards.” She glares at me.
“Thought didn’t worth the effort to protect them.” She’s flashes me a tide smile. “It came to my attention that you’ve met Fury.” I nod.
“So, how should I call you now?” She takes two steps closer and leans at the table. “Lara? Or do you still prefer Ghost?
I shrug “All of them makes me uneasy. None of them seem to fit.”
“Hm. Maverick then.”
“I never said that this one was good either.”
“Well, we need to call you somehow.” A grin is scaping her lips.
“We?” I blinked and she was looking at me from the door frame.
“Come. I’m afraid that you’re starting to rust.”
Agent Romanoff didn’t want revenge, but she definitely wanted payback. And God, that woman is almost too fast for me to keep up. Almost.
After being in my accommodation for so long, I was indeed a bit rusted. However, my muscles loved the exercise, and it did wonders to my brain. Fighting against such good opponent kept me focused on our spar. First time in days that I stop to think and overthink about my misery.
Romanoff came with one of those Widow’s combos that I menage to dodge and block a few, but one kick reached my shoulder while her elbow found my temples.
All of a sudden, I’m standing in a bar. My mind’s eye was caught in something like a foggy screen and oh my, is this a memory?
I had a drink in my hand while the other one was resting in a sling. I was feeling like shit, so much sorrow coursing through me, all I could…
I feel a slap in my good shoulder. I look up to see a tall man offering me a pool cue. ‘Come, the winner gets free beers.’ I look at my drink while I say. ‘Thanks, I’m good. I’m not in the mood.’
He nudges me. What part of mood, he didn’t catch? He speaks. ‘Oh c’mon, Mav. Danvers’s accident is tragic and all, but c’mon… or are you just sad about your injured arm?’ Fire starts to spread throughout my chest. ‘Excuse me?’
He leans in the counter. ‘Look, all I’m saying is that you guys weren’t even friends, none of us were. She was too cocky. Guess Miss goody two shoes couldn’t even drive a car, let alone fly a jet.’ The fire was consuming, was bursting out of me until it reached its peak. Complete forgetting about the sling, my hand moved to the back of his head so, so fast. Next thing I knew, I was knocking his head in the counter. He looks up with his nose covered in blood.
‘Bitch!’ He charged at me. He knocked me down and my head hit the floor, but I needed to put this fire out, I wouldn’t stop now, I needed to vent my rage. I failed in protecting her from dying, but I sure won’t fail in protecting her memory from this scum. After exchanging punches and kicks, I held him in a chokehold.
‘Never, and I do mean never talk about her like this, Specht.’ I looked up to see an audience. ‘I’ll kill anyone of you who dares to speak of her.’ I let go of him and left the bar.
When reality finds me again, the first thing to reach my ears is Romanoff’s voice. “Maverick, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Why?” She scoffs. “I hit your head and then you stop fighting, kept looking nowhere, like in a trance.”
“Oh. I… I’m sorry.” Her voice is softer when she speaks again. “What happened? Do you need me to call, Bruce or Dr. Cho?”
“What? No, no. I’m fine. It’s just… I had a vision, I don’t know.” I rub my temples to ease the pain in my head. “I think that I saw a memory, after you hit me, in a moment I was here sparing with you and the next I was in a bar having a bar fight with a man.”
“You were a fighter even before, huh?” She joked and I shrugged. “Are this visions or memories assaults a common thing?” I frown trying to make it simpler.
“I’ve never had another memory except being left behind and the Crash in a loop. Guess I’m just confused. Do I need specific triggers to remember things or is this my brain fighting Hydra’s brainwashing?” She gives me a look that I can’t decipher.
“I’m sorry all of this happened to you. Let us help you.”
“Help? With what? Will you guys erase my memory again?”
“How long will take for you to start to trust us? We won’t hurt you.” Trust? Her question caught me off guard. How can I trust, when I don’t know what trust is?
“I want to believe in you but all that I know is Hydra. Guess I’m afraid of this being just smoke and mirrors.” Her brows were so furrowed that probably hurts.
“It’s not. And I’m here to help.” I narrow my eyes at her
“Why are you being nice to me?” I open my arms to show the sparing room “Bringing me here, offering help… I’m the enemy, Miss Romanoff.”
She shakes her head. “No. You were a victim who were weaponized, yes. Nothing, but another casualty.” I’m still not convinced, and she knows. “Look, Fury trusts you and I trust Fury. Remember all those Hydra’s bases and facilities that you gave us?” I nodded. “We paid a visit to a few of them, the intel you gave us matched so far.”
“Does this mean you’ll let me go?” I asked.
“Do you really think that you would be safe out there?” Her green orbs are boring into mine.
I sign, looking away. “Stark’s Tower is one of the safest buildings in this world.”
“Then, what are we?” What am I, prisoner with benefits?
A smirk makes its way to her lips. “The enemy of my enemy…”
Surprisingly enough, Romanoff led me to the tower’s kitchen and offered me a sandwich for lunch.
I’m a bit uneasy with this interaction, don’t know how to act, don’t know what to expect. I take my surroundings to mentally calculate an escape route, she knows the place, but I believe that I could fight with her if she tries to kill me with a butterknife.
She doesn’t try to make small talk and I’m glad. To fight, survive and punishments are the only interactions that I’m used to. I don’t know how to function in a normal life, if that exists.
I recognize a newcomer, Captain America in all his glory. Romanoff puts a plate in front of me while speaks. “Hi, Cap. Joining us for lunch?”
“What is she doing here, Natasha?”
“Everything she told us matched so far, Fury trusts her. Since she’s helping us against Hydra, I’m willing to give her the benefit of doubt.”
“If Black Widow is willing to trust you...” He offered his hand for me to shake. “I’m Steve Rogers. Captain America if you will.” I took his hand in mine. “It’s a pleasure, Sir. I’m… hm.” I let go of his hand, suddenly I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. “I don’t know how to introduce myself.” A humorless smile grace my lips. “Guess Hydra never taught me that part.”
“I think we should call her by her call sign. Maverick.” Widow supplies
With a shrug, Rogers says. “It’s catchy. And if I called you Major, you’d outrank me.” He whispers the last part “I wouldn’t like that; Tony could use you against me.”
The Redhead sitting next to me let out a heartly laugh which is soon joined by Rogers’s and I’m mesmerized. So, this is how people function in daily basis.
I always wondered if being caged in a dark room waiting to be called for missions was only my reality or everyone’s. Guess that seeing them here, so relaxed having a meal in a wide kitchen with a meaningless conversation was answer enough.
I’m amazed how light, how comfortable they seemed to be with each other. I wonder…
“Mav?” I’m brought out of my reverie by Romanoff’s voice. “Sorry, what?”
“I said that your intel about anti-aircraft weapons were crucial to help us reach Hydra’s bases unscathed” Rogers says. “Didn’t thought they would have so many.”
“As I told miss Romanoff before, everyone was paranoid. Even with all the guns, defenses, and secret locations. Nothing could ease their fear. Now I know that they were afraid of you.” I chewed a bit. “Have you guys closed all the ones I gave you, already?”
“Not yet. We’re looking for something. So, we’re choosing our targets according with your intel and ours.” I looked at him. “What are you looking for?”
This was a sensitive subject, if his subtle shift was any indication. He was uneasy to share this with me. Couldn’t blame him, though, I was still enemy. An acquaintance enemy, but still.
“It’s a high-tech device. Extremely dangerous, especially in their hands.” I didn’t miss the way he chose the word ‘their’ indicating that I wasn’t part of ‘them’ and I appreciated the gesture. This device tough…
“There is a lot of facilities build for experiments. Those were the ones always exchanging data, research, personnel…” I was deep in thought. “But there was this one in Sokovia. They were always asking for more subjects, or volunteers as they called.” I wet my lips. “I was ordered to be the stealthier that I could, my hole unit stayed there. I was the only one to come back.” I looked up to him. “Have you guys tried that one, yet?”
“Sokovia?” He repeated. “No, there’s little to none about Sokovia in our files. Isn’t an old building with ancient, abandoned equipment and vehicles?”
“There’s nothing old and abandoned in Sokovia, mister Rogers.” I rest my fork in my empty plate. “On the contrary, they are the busiest. They’re just keeping an incredible low profile.”
He turns to Romanoff. “Nat, contact the team. We’re going on a trip.”
“Don’t forget your jacket.”
---------------
Apparently, Sokovia was a huge success with a very big H, because I was invited to a party, by Tony Stark himself. Now, my dilemma was increased, if I didn’t know how to act in a simple conversation. How do they expect me to function in a party, with their friends and a lot of them knows who I am. Plus, I’ve never been in a party.
This is bound to be a disaster.
Yep. I was right. There was a crazy robot giving a speech about Avengers being nothing more than killers. Then, all hell broke loose.
I’m fighting killer robots in a fancy party room. Without thinking, miss Hill handled me a gun. Guess that ‘the enemy of my enemy’ is really a thing around here. In the end, my metal arm did more damage.
As soon as Thor’s hammer crashed the last robot, the party was over.
#cap marvel#captain marvel#carol danvers#carol danvers x original character#carol danvers x reader#carol danvers x fem!reader#captain marvel x reader#age of ultron#ghost of you#infinity stones#natasha romanoff#Ghost#original female character#original character#marvel fanfic series#marvel x reader
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Always Something There to Remind Me (a Jen/Khalil Black Lightning fanfic)
by hotcheri © 2021
DISCLAIMER: I own none of the Black Lightning characters. They solely belong to DC Comics and the CW Network. This is just my take on what could have happened after the show ended.
Prologue
Khalil's POV
They were meditating when TC crept into Khalil's mindscape like a thief in the night.
Well, at least, Khalil was meditating. He loved to empty his mind of all thoughts and focus on his breathing, relishing the mental stillness and the sense of peace he didn't have in his normal life.
Painkiller sat to the side of the mental dojo like he always did whenever Khalil was centering himself, a mocking sneer twisting his lips up as Khalil tried to ignore the rage that was baking off his mind twin like a rabid fever.
Painkiller was always angry, and the people he was mostly enraged at were the Pierces. Jen, to be exact. They lived in Painkiller's head rent free, and since Khalil shared the same mind as him, and almost all of his thoughts, the image of Jen was never far from Khalil. Pain in the ass Jen, who also happened to be Khalil's first love. What a mind fuck to love someone with all your heart while part of you needed to kill her and was in pure agony every second she was alive. Khalil didn't need anyone to tell him about mind fucks, having Painkiller relentlessly prowling through his mind was more than enough.
Every time TC appeared in Khalil's mindscape, Painkiller leapt up from his seat and started pacing back and forth in a tight little line like a tiger stalking its prey, hands clasped behind his back, nostrils flared, glaring at TC as if he wanted nothing more than to boot him out of his head after savaging him a little.
Too bad it's our head, and I'm trying to hear what he has to say.
The thought flitted through Khalil's mind grimly, and he sucked in a breath before opening his eyes and gazing at TC, who kept shooting quick little fearful glances at Painkiller. Khalil knew how he felt. Until he had started working actively with Painkiller, forcing the duality in his brain to coexist, he'd been terrified of him too.
"Uh, hi guys," TC started, his voice trembling as he looked around for exit points even though all he had to do was break the connection with the chip in Khalil's brain if he wanted to leave. Khalil supposed when someone entered a room and found themselves face to face with Painkiller, even if it was a virtual reality room, that person could get very scared very fast. In cases like that, logic was the first thing to escape.
Khalil liked the kid, had liked him even before he had locked Painkiller behind a firewall in his head and had shown Jen how to coax Khalil out of the safe space he'd created in his mind. Khalil knew without a doubt that the Pierces, especially Anissa, would have taken him out after Jen had blasted him with lightning to ward off Painkiller's attack on her family as he tried to complete the kill directive, because that's exactly what he would have done.
But TC had done the inconceivable. He'd managed to read Khalil's real thoughts, thoughts that had somehow filtered through the Painkiller operating system as soon as he set eyes on Jen. Thoughts that he must have been hiding way down in his secret heart, feelings that must have survived the A.S.A. mindwipe that transformed him into a lean, mean, biological weapon. As he lay prone on the table in Gambi's work station, on the verge of unconsciousness, his sharp ears had listened as TC, a total stranger, had his back.
"Hey. Who's Jen?" TC had interrupted the post fight argument, glancing around at the faces of people he didn't know.
Impatiently, with the touch of heat that Khalil loved and had missed with a sudden depth of emotion he hadn't felt since he was just track star Khalil, and not two warring parts of a government weapon whole, Jen replied, "That's me."
"He loves you."
And Jen's suddenly shaky, tear-filled voice had whispered, "How do you know that?"
TC's answer had been simple. "He told me."
Yeah, TC was good people. And even though the reunion between Khalil and Jen hadn't lasted, even though it had been bittersweet and doomed to fail with a painful, brusque ending, for a short, sweet time, he had been happy again.
But there was no use in thinking about that, no use in brooding over something he couldn't fix. With Painkiller in his head, being with Jen wasn't an option.
Painkiller was the first to talk, stepping forward as TC gave Khalil a half-hearted wave. "Oh, you must be crazy bringin' your ass here," he growled out in his distorted, angry voice.
TC took an involuntary step back, wringing his hands. Khalil could feel the fear in the kid increase as Painkiller stopped inches from his face, glowering down at him.
Raising a hand, Khalil talked to Painkiller like a patient parent calming down a tantrum throwing toddler. "I invited him," he lied, not caring that Painkiller would know that he hadn't.
Sharing his mind with a psychopathic, heartless killer sucked all the time, and keeping secrets was nearly impossible. Painkiller knew he was claustrophobic, that he loved trains, and that he thought about the one that got away daily. But when it came to people Khalil cared for, he didn't give a fuck if Painkiller knew he was lying to protect them from his rage. TC was a friend, and he wasn't going to let Painkiller's angry ass intimidate him.
"Don't think I won't kick your ass, too," Painkiller growled. Khalil fixed him with a steady look. He'd won more fights against Painkiller, especially after his return after a year long silence, and Painkiller knew it. After a few seconds, Painkiller sucked his teeth and resumed scowling at TC.
Spreading his arms out placatingly, TC asked, "What if I come with good and great news?"
A curious expression darted across Painkiller's face. Khalil caught it and grinned to himself. Psychotic or not, everyone liked the idea of good news.
"Speak," Painkiller ground out.
Swallowing nervously, TC said, "Tobias Whale is dead."
Okay, that was unexpected, and so was the rush of relief that coursed through Khalil's body, relaxing muscles that had been tense ever since he had started working for Tobias. Even though the A.S.A. mindwipe had taken all his memories and locked them away, they had been retrieved as soon as TC had put the firewall in his head, and so too had the underlying current of fear that always pulsed whenever he thought of Tobias.
And now his former boss, the man who had ripped out his spine and dumped him on the church steps when he was done with him, the evil torturer who had been responsible for leading Khalil over to the dark side was finally dead. Closing his eyes, Khalil sent up a prayer of thanks to a God he no longer strictly believed in.
Even after becoming Agent Odell's chief asset, Khalil still harbored thoughts that Tobias would come to him, eager to finish what he had started, wanting revenge for Syonide's death, the attempted robbery at the club before Khalil and Jen became runaways, and every single other thing he'd done that had pissed Tobias off. He'd reluctantly come to believe that a showdown with Tobias was inevitable, and even though his road to atonement had led him to Akashic Valley and a new life, he always knew that Tobias would eventually come for him. It was in his nature. But now this piece of good news had been thrown into his lap and Khalil took a moment to bask in gratitude.
Painkiller's reaction was the polar opposite of Khalil's restrained joy. Anger blazed onto his face and his brow creased as he listened to TC give Khalil the best news he'd heard in a while.
Sounding like a petulant child after being asked if he had McDonald's money, Painkiller groaned. "Damn. I wanted to kill him." He fisted both hands into his unruly curls and glowering up at the ceiling. "That's not good news." Turning to Khalil, his voice turned wheedling. "Let me kick his ass just a little."
With a quick glance towards Painkiller, TC cleared his throat before dropping his bombshell. "I've isolated the system code for the kill order. I can free you."
TC backed away till his back was against the wall, as far as he could get from a snarling Painkiller. When he got furious, Painkiller acted just like a wolf ready to attack. Luckily, Khalil had him on a mental leash. Ignoring him, Khalil focused his attention on TC.
"TC, what is your other news?"
Khalil let out a shaky breath, a glimmer of hope blooming in his chest.
At last.
"Good." Both TC and Khalil turned to face Painkiller, who had a look on his face so unnatural that Khalil didn't immediately recognize it. He looked like a doomed man seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Is he...is he happy? "Let's do it."
"But there's a catch," TC started slowly, plucking nervously at his sleeve as his eyes slid from Khalil to Painkiller and back again. Khalil sighed, motioning to TC to continue. There was always a catch and he knew that better than anybody, but for a second he had allowed himself to believe that getting rid of the kill order that brought such pain to both Painkiller and him, finally being freed from the chains that the A.S.A had wound around his body and in his mind, was ripe for the taking, with no blowback. "It's linked to everything you know and love about the whole Pierce family. If you break the kill order, you won't remember the Pierces at all."
The breath went out of Khalil all at once, leaving him feeling weak and boneless. He was glad he was sitting down, because if he had been standing when TC spoke, the strength would have ran out of his legs. And even though this was all in his mind, his physical body had stopped breathing for a second, and he felt his heart skip a beat.
This wasn't a catch, it was a fucking dilemma. There had to be another way.
Chewing on his bottom lip, Khalil found himself thinking about the technology he and Painkiller had found in Maya's safe house. Surely there was something there that would help isolate the kill switch without messing with his memories more than they'd already been messed with? Because this alternative that TC was suggesting... it wasn't fair. After leaving Freeland to keep Jen and her family safe and away from him, hell, after saving Anissa's wife from kidnappers, after everything that had happened in Khalil's life to get him to this point in time, losing the only good memories he had left just plain wrong.
"So what?" Painkiller asked, his top lip turned up into a snarl. Whether he was oblivious to the wave of emotion Khalil was weathering, or if he just didn't care, Khalil didn't know. Painkiller knew what he wanted. He was tired of the agony that came with not fulfilling the kill order. "They're pains in the ass anyway!"
In a chillingly calm voice that brooked no argument, Khalil stared evenly at Painkiller and said, "Shut up and sit your black ass down." Shocked into obedience, Painkiller sank down to the floor as Khalil looked at TC, a pleading tone in his voice. "TC, there's got to be another way around."
"There's none." Khalil could hear the despair in TC's voice, and he knew he was telling the truth. Of course he was. "I've checked and I've double checked."
Painkiller was still silent, and Khalil turned to look at him. "Damn!" He clenched his fist so hard that the veins in his arm popped out, but he took no notice. "You won't stop, will you? Sooner or later you're going to kill Jen and the rest of the Pierces."
Nodding sagely, like he had been the one meditating, Painkiller said, "Best believe. But I'm not nobody's puppy." He pointed at Khalil, his face stern and absolutely serious. "Cut the damn cord."
The muscles in Khalil's jaw worked as he stood up, turning his back on TC and Painkiller so that they couldn't see the emotions playing across his face. He wanted to be free of the kill code more than anything, needed Painkiller to be at rest so that he could figure out a way to become whole again. But the cost- losing Jen again- was it just too great?
Khalil closed his eyes, and suddenly, he was back on the Pierce's roof with Jen after Painkiller had broken free of the firewall for a couple of nasty minutes to wrap his hands around Jen's neck. He could feel everything in that moment, the wind brushing lightly against his face, the shingles of the roof under his sneakers, the terrified look Jen shot him before schooling her features into a coolness Khalil had never seen on her face. Both looks hit him like a ton of bricks.
She was scared of him.
Painkiller had shown her his true colors and had, once again, pushed someone he loved away from him. And what she had said had chilled him to the core, a sudden lump rising in his throat, and tears smarting in his eyes as she let him go.
"I can't love a weapon that's pointed at my family, even if it does have a soul." Her shoulders hunched pitifully as she wrapped her arms around her legs, all at once seeming far younger than her years. "See you around, Khalil."
He took one last look at her, her curly hair brushing past her chin, her eyes chilly and flinty in the dusk as she turned away from him, blinking away tears of her own. "No. You won't," he said, and with that, he had exited Jen's life.
Some things you can't go back to. The way Jen had ended things between them still hurt, and the realization that he wasn't going to be able to salvage things with her caused him pain that was almost physical, but if TC was able to isolate the kill code and erase his memories of her, the pain would go. All the pain would disappear, and his fresh start in Akashic Valley would be just that, a fresh start.
Behind him, TC started to say, "If you need more time, I can-," but by now, Khalil's mind was made up. There was no other choice.
"I always known I'd give my life for that girl." Khalil heaved a sad sigh, running a hand over his face as he turned to look at a nervous TC and an impassive Painkiller. Painkiller smirked, knowing what decision Khalil had made, and in that moment, Khalil hated him, the A.S.A., Odell- everyone who had gotten him into this situation. Especially himself. "Never thought I'd have to forget her." A nod towards TC. "Do it."
TC nodded dumbly, just as another thought flitted into Khalil's mind. If TC was able to isolate the kill code and erase some of his memories, wasn't it possible that he could remove his very worst memory?
Before he left Freeland for good after shooting Odell and letting Black Lightning deal with the evil son of a bitch however he saw fit, Khalil took a detour to the cemetery, picking a bunch of blooming flowers from the ramshackle garden of Mrs. Sutton, the Payne's old landlady. Khalil didn't think she would mind, she had loved Nichelle Payne dearly.
Once at the cemetery, he had laid the flowers on his mother's grave, sat down with his back resting against her tombstone and cried a little. Nobody had been around to see him; Freeland residents weren't crazy about going to the graveyard at nighttime.
"I shot the guy who made me kill you, ma," he'd whispered, his words blown away by the breeze as the tears blurred his vision. "I know you always said vengeance never pays, but I had to do it. I'm sorry, ma. I love you, and I'm so, so sorry."
Nichelle Payne had raised him to be the best in whatever he did, and what had he done in return? Snapped her neck, and the best excuse he could come up with was he'd just been following orders. The knowledge weighed heavily on his soul, and he knew that he would pay for it in time. Everything comes due. But if TC could somehow make him forget...
"I can try," TC said doubtfully, and Khalil raised his eyes from his clenched fists, remembering where he was through the sadness that engulfed his soul.
"No." Khalil shook his head, resigning himself to reality. "It's part of who I am, and I need to find redemption for it, or a way to live with myself."
TC opened his mouth and hesitated before shyly asking, "Do you want to- I mean, I could give you Jen's number and you could talk to her one last time?"
Painkiller groaned, storming around the circumference of the dojo angrily. "Can we fucking do this already? No more flashbacks, no phone calls- get this kill order the fuck out of my head!"
"Our head," Khalil reminded him. "And right now, I'm in charge." He bit his lip, wrestling with himself. Saying goodbye to Jen wouldn't make things better, it would just bring home the truth that he would never see his first girlfriend again, and even if by some weird coincidence he did, he wouldn't know her. It was stupid. They already said their goodbyes on the Pierce roof, what would he gain from this? "What's her number?"
Painkiller actually growled at this and stomped off somewhere. Khalil could still feel him burning in his mind, but it looked like he had opted out of being a part of Khalil's final goodbye. Not that Khalil minded in the least. Before Painkiller, his relationship with Jen had been special. He didn't want his insane mind twin tainting the very last moment he would have with her.
Courteously, TC severed the connection with Khalil's brain chip, promising to return when the phone call was over and start the process. Khalil stared down at his phone and punched in Jen's number before he could lose his cool. Meditation seemed like a lifetime away, it was all he could do to keep his heart from galloping away like a war horse.
Jen's phone rang once, twice, three times, and Khalil was just about to hit the end button when suddenly-
"Hi." Jen's bold, brash voice was in his ear, and Khalil forgot to breathe. The background noise was filled with laughter and music, a noise that Khalil associated with family time, even though he was never fortunate enough to have enjoyed family time with his mother working two jobs, his father in jail, and his brother running the streets with the 100. "You know you're calling from a- Anissa, stop!" Khalil closed his eyes, savoring the sound of Jen's hearty giggles as someone- Anissa, probably- tickled her or something similar. "You're calling from a private number, who is this?"
A male chuckle sounded, and Khalil recognized Gambi's voice sounding from the distance. "Probably a scam, hang up before they get all your info."
Same old Gambi, trusting nobody. A wistful smile turned up Khalil's lips, but he still couldn't come up with a thing to say. It was like all his thought circuits were down, and he wondered if Painkiller had something to do with it.
"Helloooo? Who is this?" Jen's voice turned speculative, and she gave a derisive snort. "This better not be TC playing with me again, how many times do I have to tell you I'm not going to prom wit' you?"
"I'm literally right here," TC protested in the background.
And Khalil found that he couldn't bring himself to say anything, let alone goodbye. He wasn't great with goodbyes, anyway, so who was he fooling? "Uh, sorry," he muttered. Why had he thought this would be a good idea again? "Wrong number."
In the few seconds it took for him to press the end call button, Jen's voice sharpened with recognition and she exclaimed, "Wait, that sounds a little like-."
Call ended blinked up at him from his phone screen as his pulse jumped in his throat. Safe getaway. Of course, he'd ended the call before Jen could say his name, or even more hurtful, the name of somebody else.
But fuck, hearing her voice was bittersweet.
"You hung up?" TC was back in his head, eyes gleaming with relief that Painkiller wasn't around.
Nodding, Khalil strove to keep his face blank and impassive. "Yeah. I'd rather remember her the way she was on that phone, happy, carefree, pain in the ass J."
She sounded happy and normal, like the old her, before the 100 had kidnapped her and she had discovered she had powers. She sounded like the Queen of Garfield. By coming back into her life even for a few seconds, he might jeopardize that happiness, and if there's one thing he wanted her to be after the events of the past few years, it was at peace and she wasn't going to find it with him.
"But you didn't get to say goodbye."
Pity was written all across TC's face, and once again, Khalil felt the wave of sadness engulf him. Did it ever stop? Even with his memories of Jen gone, would he really be at peace?
"I didn't need to." Khalil stopped, his shoulders slumped, and came to stand next to TC, who was still looking at him with that sympathetic look on his face. "TC..."
Looking up at him, TC said, "Yeah?"
"Don't tell her."
TC let out a dramatic gasp that made Khalil crack a smile, even though he had never felt less like smiling. "What? But I was just about to-?"
"No." Khalil shook his head resolutely. "Let her live her life." TC opened his mouth to protest, but Khalil talked over him. It was the only way. "You told me she lost the guy she was seeing, and she's already lost so much. Just- let her think what she's been thinking, that I left Freeland to live my life." He started pacing like Painkiller sometimes did, back and forth, his arms behind his back as he spoke. It felt like atoning for his sins. "I poisoned her. I almost killed her."
Interrupting, his voice utterly horrified, TC exclaimed, "That was Painkiller, not you!"
"Yeah, but don't you get it? He's in me, so even if I know that I'm not the one doing the poisoning, everyone else thinks it, because he's in my head wanting to kill all the time." Khalil stopped pacing and turned to TC, his face serious. "With the kill code gone, we can co-exist without the anger and rage that drives Painkiller. I came here for a fresh start and removing the memories of the Pierces will give me that." To show that he meant business, he clapped his hands together. "Let's do this. How's it gonna work?"
Getting back to business removed the pity from TC's face, and Khalil was glad. Seeing that look on his normally cheery friends face and knowing it was directed at him made him feel like even more of a shitty person.
Tapping his chin, Khalil asked, "So I won't remember that they're metas as well?"
"You'll forget about them. Anything related to them, too."
TC's eyes started to flash green as he went over the logistics of changing Khalil's life.
"No, you'll remember that, you'll know about Black Lightning, Thunder and Lightning, you just won't know their identities. You won't remember they're Pierces."
Nodding, Khalil said, "Got it." Actually, it sounded confusing to him, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. "But if I want to reinstate my memories, can't I just come to you and-."
TC laughed as Khalil made a casual popping noise with his tongue in his cheek. "No. You won't even know that your memories are gone."
"And you're sure they'll stay gone."
This was the most important part. What ifs ran through Khalil's mind with the speed of a Formula One car. If he somehow ran into the Pierce sisters on vacation. If he helped someone from a mugger and it turned out to be Doctor Pierce? If Black Lightning ended up in Akashic Valley like Anissa had and they ran into each other?
Shifting from one foot to the other, TC said, "Um, 90% sure."
"90?" Khalil asked incredulously.
TC shrugged. "That's an A."
"I used to get straight A's in school," Khalil said musingly. "And then Odell dropped a few Master's degrees into my head, but that happened after I stopped caring about grades." TC gave him a confused, yet concerned look, and Khalil said, "Let's get rid of these memories."
A few minutes later, Khalil was lying on an operating table, a brain scanner that looked like a crown on his head. Philky just happened to have one lying around, which was pure Philky, and after TC had uploaded his program into the lab's computer, he'd told Khalil's master of tech exactly what to do. Donald was on standby in case something went wrong medically. And Painkiller? He was still in the dojo, and Khalil could feel the excitement thrumming through him. Khalil didn't blame him; he was excited too.
A high-pitched whine started up, and Khalil felt a pinprick of electricity tickle his forehead as the process started. TC had warned him about this.
What TC hadn't warned him about was, as the memories left, they replayed in his head, almost like a flashback reel.
Khalil saw himself on the Pierce roof with Jen, giving her a chaste, shy kiss as she agreed to be his girlfriend.
He saw himself stealing into Garfield High and meeting up with Jen by the lockers after enduring more abuse from Tobias, knowing that she was the only person he could really talk to despite what had gone down between them. Sitting down in silence, not needing to say a word because their connection was that powerful.
He saw them running away together, Jen using her lightning powers in front of him for the first time and blasting the 100 hoodlums. How he'd kissed her later on and it had been electric, and the hottest kiss he'd ever had.
He saw himself (the memories were blurry around the edges, soon they'd be gone but so would the kill code, it was for the best but it hurt, TC didn't say it would hurt this much) sitting next to Jen in his special place, his private place, his favorite place, the abandoned subway car, eating ramen and reminiscing on how he had asked her to be his girlfriend, and he had been so shy when he gave her the necklace, something that had caught his eye in Freeland's jewelry store and he'd saved up for two months to buy it for her, a necklace he was giving to her for the second time because he loved her, and he'd lost her once and wasn't about to let her go again and...
The memories faded as Khalil's mind cycled through the deepest, darkest levels of consciousness, and there was only darkness, and finally, blissfully, peace.
(See more on ao3 or wattpad!)
#black lightning#fanfic#khalil payne#jennifer pierce#jordan calloway#china anne mcclain#wattpad#ao3fic
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Whumptober 2021 Day Twenty-Four
Freddie is sitting on a hill, morning dew soaking into his trousers, and watching the smoke rise from what’s left of the last town he and Lux had been through.
She’s laying beside him, eyes closed. She might be asleep, maybe just resting, but he doesn’t really care either way. They don’t have to move on just yet, no one left alive to come and chase them away.
Not that there would be much they could do even if they tried. This is only one of many towns that they’ve left a charred husk, and no one’s managed to stop them yet.
The smoke twists and curls up against the sky, blocking out the sun. Freddie can smell it, even at this distance, though perhaps it just clings to his clothes.
It isn’t unpleasant. He likes it, even. In a way it’s even comforting.
Lux doesn’t like it quite so much, wrinkles her nose at him and rolls her eyes, but she’s never complained past that, and he thinks she revels in the burning almost as much as he does.
He doesn’t know why they’re doing this, not really. It’s … revenge, in a way, for Alexei, and for Cas. Never mind these people had nothing to do with their deaths. They’re not getting the answers they want, and they don’t make empty threats.
It doesn’t help, really, with the grief and the emptiness. No amount of blood and smoke is going to fill the empty space in his heart where Alexei should be, and he doubts tears and death will ever replace Cas.
Still, sometimes it makes him feel a little better, if not for long. There’s a moment, when everything around him is fire and screaming and death, that he feels peace.
It’s gone in an instant, but he chases it. He wonders if Lux does too, or if its something else for her. If the death bolsters her power, if she plans, eventually, to take on the rest of the gods too.
He’d stand with her, if she did. Perhaps Trix was the one to end Alexei, to end Cas, but the others never once tried to stop him. They’ve always just pushed them further and further, all of them, until they couldn’t take it anymore.
Freddie would like to see the gods burn. He would like that very much.
He hasn’t asked, though. They don’t talk about it, don’t talk about much. Freddie’s grasp on sign is shaky at best, and even if they could speak freely he doesn’t think either of them would want to. They have curt conversations with the little sign he knows and sometimes pass notes, but that’s the extent of it. They don’t talk about their feelings.
Not that he even really has them, anymore. Just grief, and rage, and the freezing, all-consuming emptiness.
They don’t really talk about their plans, either. Just keep moving forwards, village after town after city left a smoking wreck.
He knows he should feel some sort of guilt over it. Most of the people who die in the blaze or to Lux’s power don’t deserve it, are just trying to live their lives. It isn’t their fault they don’t have the answers they’re looking for.
He doesn’t, though. He just watches the flames lick up towards the sky, consuming buildings and people, and he doesn’t feel anything at all.
Maybe it will come back to bite him, one day. Maybe it’ll hit him all at once and the weight of the guilt will kill him, as it would have before he lost Alexei, but for now he just can’t bring himself to even care.
Lux shifts in the grass beside him, propping herself up on her elbows and looking up at the smoke curling towards the sky.
For a while they sit there in silence, watching the smoke together, until she finally pulls herself into a proper sitting position, one that lets her sign.
“Time to move on.”
Freddie doesn’t know if she means it as a question. Just nods and pulls himself to his feet, offering her a hand.
She gives him a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes and lets him pull her to her feet.
Time to move on.
#whumptober 2021#no.24#revenge#oc#fic#burning#death#freddie does not deal with grief very well#anyway i thought he and lux deserved to have a bit of a villain arc#as a treat#because theyre both so cool and sexy#oc:freddie#oc:lux#wip:8gp#writing#my writing#writeblr
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More Hollow Knight drabbles! This one's exploring what might have happened if the Pale King was still alive when you find him in the White Palace. CW for character death and descriptions of illness - PK isn't doing too great
(Also posted to ao3 under nonbinaryGhost)
--
Ghost stood before the fallen kingsmould. They had stumbled across a few of the void-filled armors guarding hidden passages on their trek through the White Palace. But this one was dead – a motionless heap of pale metal leaking void into the stone around it. Ghost glanced around, spying others that were collapsed in a similar fashion. What had happened to them?
They followed the trail of bodies, their hand on their nail in case any of them were still animated and attacked. But none of the kingsmoulds so much as twitched at the vessel’s passing. The air around Ghost began to grow dark with decaying void as they moved deeper down the hallway towards a Soullift. It was the only way forward, and Ghost was unwilling to turn back, so they pressed on, their footsteps muffled by the thick shadows creeping in.
More kingsmoulds waited at the top of the lift, as broken and motionless as the others. There was almost none of the pale white light that filled the rest of the palace here. Only heavy darkness and flicking void particles. Even the white stone floor seemed duller, stained into a grey-yellow from the void. A tall dais stood ahead, and Ghost could just make out the shape of something sitting atop it, glowing ever so faintly. Reluctant to enter that familiar darkness, Ghost turned to kneel next to the nearest kingsmould, searching for any signs of damage to their armor. Had there been a fight? Something that had been here before Ghost, that had killed the kingsmoulds to get to whatever it was that sat atop the dais? But there was nothing – no scratches in the pale metal from a nail, no dents or torn joints. It looked as if the kingsmould had simply fallen where it stood, the void that formed its body losing shape to melt into the floor and evaporate into the air.
“Who passes through this forsaken dream?”
The muffled rasp jerked the vessel’s attention to the large room atop the dais. It had been some time since they’d heard a voice. The soft murmurings of the royal retainers had faded long ago as Ghost pressed deeper and deeper into the heart of the palace, until no other living dreams crossed their path. The heavy darkness that seeped into the air around them seemed to smother the sound, but after so long in silence even the soft voice felt loud. Hand resting on the hilt of their nail, Ghost crept deeper into the large room blanketed in shadow.
Ghost had been prepared to find their Father in the White Palace. But the sight of the small bug cloaked in faded white robes still made Ghost stop in their tracks. The Pale King was scarcely bigger than Ghost, cloaked in faded white robes atop a tall black throne. For a moment, Ghost wondered if this really was the Pale King of whom they’d seen so many statues. But the crown-like shape of his horns and the pale glow that surrounded his form marked him beyond any doubt as the God-King of Hallownest. The Pale King lifted his head to peer at Ghost now standing before him.
“Pure -?” The shock on the Pale King’s face faded as he squinted at Ghost. “No, another. So some of you did escape. I had hoped…but never could See…”
The King’s words dissolved into a wet, rattling cough and he buried his face in the crook of an arm as his light flickered. Ghost didn’t budge, their thoughts completely blank as they watched the Pale King regain composure. This was who they had been looking for, but now that they stood before him, Ghost could not summon the will to move. The Pale King looked down at the robe sleeve he had just coughed into with a grimace. He smoothed the sleeve and tucked it out of Ghost’s sight.
“I take it you are here for revenge?”
Ghost only stared and a rueful chuckle shook the King’s shoulders.
“You do not have to maintain the charade of emptiness, Vessel,” he said softly. “I know you are not hollow, though I cannot sense any thoughts or feelings from you as I do my subjects. The Void shields your mind from my Light. But I know that is not the same as true emptiness. If I had realized sooner…”
His voice had grown tight with some kind of emotion and he took a breath before continuing.
“You need not hide your feelings from me. I know you must despise me.”
Still Ghost did not move. Instead, they watched how the Pale King seemed to be trembling, ever so slightly, upon his throne. They noted how dim and weak the King’s light appeared, slowly smothered by the encroaching darkness. The King was being forgotten, just as the Radiance had, and he was gradually fading away. Ghost need not do anything, if they actually wanted revenge, for the King was already dying. What greater punishment could anyone hope to enact than to condemn the King to be forgotten and erased along with his kingdom and children? The King let out a shuddering sigh.
“I have done many terrible things,” he rasped. “Things that I should have never allowed to pass. And all for what? My people still died. My Kingdom still fell. My children…sacrificed for nothing. I was too late to do anything to change the course of fate, yet still I struggled to find a way and ended up causing even greater atrocities.”
Ghost didn’t move at this. They had expected many things when they found their father, but this had not been one of them. Haughtiness, pride, righteous anger, blind refusal of having done any wrong – Ghost had anticipated that. But not remorse. Not regret.
The familiar, cold emptiness that still filled Ghost’s shell smothered any anger or pity that might have been stirred at the King’s words. Ghost knew they should be furious, but they could not muster up even the phantom flicker of emotion. Factually, they understood that just because this bug knew what he’d done was wrong, that didn’t mean he deserved forgiveness. Least of all from one of the very children he’d callously cast away to die. But Ghost didn’t forgive him, just as they didn’t hate him. The Pale King just… was. He was just another pathetic being fallen from grace, and Ghost felt nothing for him. Ghost distantly wondered if the King’s remorse was less because he knew that he’d caused harm, and more because his plan hadn’t worked. Was his regret more for the fact that his plan had failed rather than for the fact that he had done it at all. If his plan had worked, if the Hollow Knight had successfully contained the Infection and killed the Radiance, would the Pale King still feel the same way? Or would he simply chalk it all up to ‘necessary sacrifices’ and never consider it again?
“I sense my words mean little to you.”
Ghost looked up at this and met the Pale King’s empty eyes. They found that there was some small flicker of rage somewhere inside of their shell – tiny and fragile as a lumifly’s wings. But it was there. Once, Ghost may have listened to the Pale King’s words without bias and could have been moved to sympathy. But Ghost had been to the Abyss, had seen the broken shells of their fallen siblings. Even if they still could not remember their own past there, the cold fury at what had been done to slaughter so many bugs still smoldered somewhere in their very soul.
“I cannot fault you for your anger,” the Pale King choked, barely smothering a cough that tried to rake through him. “We deserve neither forgiveness nor pity, and We could never ask it of you.”
He barely choked out the words before he could no longer suppress the cough. It tore through his small frame, his whole body shuddering as he clutched at his chest. Ghost watched in rising horror as thick, liquid void began to drip down the King’s chin. Ghost realized that the King wasn’t just fading from memory.
He was being killed.
Slowly and painfully.
Suddenly the heavy darkness that filled the throne room made far more sense. The Pale King’s light wasn’t just fading from being forgotten. The void was smothering the Pale King’s glow and slowly poisoning his body, the very same way the King intended for it to do to the Radiance. But unlike the Radiance, the Pale King lacked the resolve to survive. He felt remorse, now. He had regrets. And the Void latched on to those cracks in his mental barriers with a vicious tenacity that could not be burned away. The Void Sea had claimed him, and it was slowly tearing him apart bit by bit.
The Pale King’s rattling breath was loud in Ghost’s ears as the coughing fit subsided. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain, dark streaks of void staining his mask around the mouth and eyes, and all four of his arms clutched at the robes around his neck and chest. Only then did Ghost notice that the King’s hands were as void-black as their own shell. Ghost could feel something stirring within them, or, more precisely, within the void that filled their own veins. A sort of anticipation that was not their own. The strange thought that the Pale King would be returning home occurred to them and they pondered the premise briefly. The King was slowly becoming a being of void, and the Void’s song reached out to him now just as it called to Ghost. For the first time, Ghost felt an odd sort of kinship to the dying king. They got the impression that they had gone through something very similar to this, long, long ago. But even these feelings were distant and impersonal – mere phantom impressions of emotion quickly quelled by the cold darkness that filled them.
The Pale King carefully shook his head as his breathing slowed into shallow gasps.
“Why are you here, vessel,” he panted, the sound barely more than a whisper. There was nothing in that voice – just cold emptiness devoid of inflection. Ghost’s mask tilted at this. Why were they here? Then, they remembered the broken charm given to them by the White Lady. They reached into their void-soft body and retrieved the white shard, holding it out to the Pale King. It took a moment for the King to slowly lift his gaze to settle upon the broken charm. He went completely still at the sight of it.
“My Root…” he breathed, reaching out with a single hand towards the charm. He froze, black-stained claws a mere breath away from touching the white surface. Ghost nearly recoiled at the pained sound that escaped the King’s throat - an almost strangled wail that came out as a gurgling sob - and new black tears began to drip down the King’s mask. He took his had away to clutch at his horns as he began to shake, his other hands grabbing at the robes around his throat and chest.
“My Root,” he choked out in a moan. Ghost stared at this display, uncertain of what to do as the Pale King seemed to collapse in on himself, curled around his arms as he began to sob. The abject misery in the sound would have broken the heart of a normal bug. Ghost only felt cold.
“I miss Her,” the King wept, the words almost sounding like a confession. Ghost got the sense that the King wasn’t really talking to them. These words felt like the ramblings of a broken bug, spoken for the speaker alone. “I’ve no right to, and yet… I… I wish She was with me. I have been alone for so long… and now… I will never see Her again. She was so sad and angry when She left. She was right to be. And it is all my fault…Will she ever smile again? After all that I have done… have I killed her too?”
The King’s words strangled off into another coughing fit that sounded as if it was ripping the wyrm apart from the inside, and more thick void fell to the black-stained stone floor. The King followed, collapsing to the floor and curling into a tight ball as he convulsed against the stone. The Pale King was still muttering as he choked, but the only words Ghost could make out were “I killed her”.
Ghost didn’t know how to respond. The White Lady had been alive when they spoke to her. Or did the Pale King mean he killed her in a metaphorical sense? She had locked herself away in her gardens and placed herself under powerful bindings to atone for the part she played in the Pale King’s plan. She diminished her light and restrained her influence. She would eventually be forgotten. Ghost supposed that, in a way, the Pale King had condemned his wife to a slow death not all that different from his own. Her body still lived, but the Pale King had killed her heart, and broken her spirit.
Just as he’d done to himself.
Without really thinking, Ghost knelt next to where the King had fallen out of his throne and placed a small hand upon his shoulder. The Pale King clutched at their hand with the desperation of a drowning bug. After a time, the King’s breathing slowed once more. The pale glow that had clung to him was all but gone now, flickering faintly like a sputtering candle, and the Kings breath came slow and shallow, as if it took all of his will just to fill his lungs. His gaze found Ghost’s, confusion thick behind the fear that practically radiated from him.
“Why do you stay?” he whispered, each word taking a colossal effort. “You are free… this kingdom is dead…”
Ghost shifted to sit beside the King, moving their clasped hands to their lap.
The King didn’t deserve forgiveness.
But no one deserved to die alone.
Ghost resolved to stay here beside the King in his final moments.
A gift he had never given to his kingdom. Or his children.
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North Star:
Trigger Warnings: Spoilers for Season 5 if you haven’t seen it yet!
ANGST. Mentions/Heavy Descriptions of Death. Blood, Fighting.
Word Count: 1,810
Characters: Bonnie Gold x Reader
Summary: After some Peaky business went awry, the Billy Boys are hell-bent on coming after two of their most vulnerable targets: Bonnie and Y/N.
Request: “Hello! Would you like to write some angst with Bonnie Gold witnessing the death of his girlfriend but him staying alive? The idea just popped into my head after I saw what happened to him. Ofc I understand if topic is too violent or sensitive.”
Requested by: Anon
A/N: Okay so to make myself and all of you cry a bit more, I highly recommend you listen to this audio/song as you read it. Oh god.
The evening air was cold as the sky filled with a blue hue, consuming any rays of golden sunlight that were left. The red and brown leaves blanketed the ground as you walked hand in hand with Bonnie, warmth radiating off him as you all finished gathering sticks to stoke the fire he’d built.
When you all returned you stopped to watch as he made the dwindling fire come to life again, smiling down at his work and then up at you.
“What you staring for love?” He asked, cracking his signature half smile you adored.
“Nothing...I’m just admiring you. Isn’t that what girlfriends are for?” You asked smirking as you bent down to help him keep the fire going. You rubbed your hands together as you held them out towards the flames, desperately trying to keep warm as the evening grew colder.
“Come here...” Bonnie whispered as you sat next to him, pulling you towards him as he wrapped you in a protective embrace. You nestled your head into his chest as you both sat there staring into the orange flames, enjoying each others company just like any other night.
But amidst the calm autumn evening, there were sinister things lurking behind the trees, stalking out the camp like a lion stalking its prey. The tired, angry eyes of the Billy Boys watching as you and him laughed and talked about anything that came to mind as the stars appeared above you.
Bonnie looked up at them and pointed to one as he spoke. “That’s the north star. It reminds me of ya.” He said smiling down at you.
“How so?” You asked.
“Because you’re always there to guide me, just like that star does.” He said. You giggled at how sickeningly cute he was as you continued to talk.
The prying eyes of the men stayed on you as Bonnie kissed you, the men not daring to move until instructed by their leader.
Unfortunately for them, one of the men stepped on a nearby stick giving them away prematurely. The slight crack causing you to jump anxiously away from Bonnie’s lips at the sound.
“What’s wrong love?” He asked, caressing your cheek as your eyes scanned the tree line.
A bad feeling washed over you as you looked, knowing that the sound was close. Your stomach dropped as your eyes adjusted to the darkening sky, making out an odd shape amongst one of the trees.
Bonnie took your hands in his and brought you out of your fearful trance for just a moment, giving you just enough time to whisper something in his ear.
“I think someone’s watching us Bon. Someone’s here.”
Bonnie gulped as he looked around, anger and worry filling his eyes at the thought of someone invading your all's privacy. He quickly got up, giving you a reassuring nod as he went into his vardo to retrieve his rifle as the men closed in. The damp leaves hid the sound of their footsteps, allowing them to surround you with ease. Your breath hitched in your throat as you counted 5 men, all in ratty clothes with guns in their hands. You scanned the tree line for any others as your heart raced, praying Bonnie would come out soon. You shook with fear as one of them started whistling and singing a tune about themselves. You had recognized it only because you’d heard about them in passing, as Bonnie had been on some Peaky related business a couple of weeks ago.
Your eyes widened as tears fell down your face like raindrops when they each aimed their guns at you. Their lips curling into sinister smiles as you trembled in fear. In your peripheral vision you saw Bonnie sneaking out of the vardo as quietly as he could, tip-toeing towards one of the men until he was close enough to knock him over the head with the butt of his rifle. The man fell unconscious on the damp ground with a thud, giving you a split second to run towards Bonnie in a desperate attempt to help as the men stalked towards him. You found a large stick near the fire to hit one of them in the back of the head, but it wasn’t enough to knock him down. Screaming, you felt the man grab your arm holding you still in fear as you watched Bonnies eyes look down in defeat as he raised his rifle up, realizing he was outnumbered. Through your tears you saw him suddenly shoot one of the men in the head, bringing the Billy Boys down to 3 as he tried shooting the other two. Desperate to help, you screamed profanities at the third man holding you back, causing you to bite his arm until you felt the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. He yelled out in pain and let go of you for a brief second, allowing you to escape his grasp, running behind Bonnie as you saw the three men now stalking towards you both.
Bonnie put his arm out, pushing you behind him as you watched in horror as they rushed forward, the fire illuminating their silhouettes in the blue-tinged darkness. He gently pushed you further back as he readied himself, dodging one of the men's punches just quickly enough to catch his arm to twist it back. The audible sound of the mans bones breaking made you feel ill. You to looked away for a brief moment before the third man with the rifle came running towards you. You screamed and ran behind one of the trees as a bullet rushed past you, narrowly missing your head. You searched frantically for a sign of the man, hoping your dark clothing helped you hide well enough, even for a moment.
As you scanned the area for him, you watched as the other man threw punches at Bonnie’s face, splitting his lip and giving him a gash on the side of his head. You watched on hesitantly, but Bonnie didn’t fall down, he just threw his fists up again, moving towards the man in short bursts, his fist making solid contact with the mans face, knocking him out until he fell like the others. There were two Billy Boys left now, the one with the broken arm and the one hunting you.
You reluctantly went to get up from the protection of the tree trunk, only to be met with the feeling of the cold metal barrel at the back of your head.
“Say one word and you’re dead. Now walk.” He said with a thick accent.
You shakily stepped on the damp leaves, tears filling your eyes as Bonnie beat the fourth guy to death. With blood coating his face, he looked up as you stood before him trembling, the leader holding the rifle to the back of your head as you shook with fear.
With a few ragged breaths Bonnie finally spoke, his eyes not leaving yours.
“Sir you don’t have to do this. Wh-why are you after us?” He asked, his eyes darting to the leader for a split second.
“Let’s just call it revenge aye?” He said before shoving the gun deeper into your scalp, causing you to cry more at the pain.
“P-please don’t. Please...” Bonnie said crawling over the fourth mans body and over to you, his hands shakily reaching to hold yours.
You glanced down, at Bonnie, your tears falling on his face as his own raced down his cheeks. He quickly brought your hands to his lips, kissing them as he shook with a mixture of adrenaline, shock, and fear.
“What’s done is done Mr. Gold. Next time I’ll be paying your father a visit.” he said as he watched you shakily hold Bonnies bloodied hands.
With a sudden movement the pressure on your head moved to your back as he pressed the barrel to your chest. You sobbed as you looked down at the love of your life, seeing the pain in his eyes as you both realized what will happen.
“Any last words?” He asked.
You took a final deep breath, ignoring the pain of the barrel fixated on your back and looked into Bonnie’s eyes while speaking.
“I love you Bon...always.”
“I love you too Y/N...forever.” He said, kissing your hand one last time before the gun went off, the bullet just missing your heart. Bonnie sat in shock as your warm hand left his as you fell towards him, the life slowly draining from you as he held you in his arms. You looked into his eyes as all the memories of your life with him and your family and friends flashed before you. You smiled slightly as you took a last shallow breath, murmuring an “I love you” once more before everything went black.
Bonnie sat there for what felt like forever, holding you until he no longer felt your warmth. He gently closed your eyes and laid you down, wiping the blood and tears from his face on his jacket before taking it off, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He no longer payed the leader any mind as he sat nonchalantly on a nearby log, taunting him.
“Such a shame...such a pretty girlfriend you had there, it almost pained me to kill her....almost.” He said with a smirk, as he cleaned the blood off his rifle.
Bonnie looked back at your limp body before lunging at the man, rage filling his eyes as he landed a punch to the mans skull, causing him to stumble back off the log. In one swift motion, Bonnie pinned the man to the ground and relentlessly punched him in the face until he tapped the ground next to him signaling a surrender, but he didn’t stop. He took out all his pain on the one who brought it upon him. Bonnie looked the man in the eye and took his head in his hands. As Bonnie stared menacingly, the man begged for mercy before he snapped his neck.
All was silent after that, the only sounds were the river nearby, and the rustling of the trees in the darkness. With shaking hands and guided only by the stars and the moonlight, he walked towards the other 4 bodies, finishing off any that were still somewhat conscious and dragged them one by one to the river. When he returned, he wrapped you in one of the blankets you always loved and held you near the fire, desperately trying to turn back time in his head as he watched the flames flicker out, just like the life in your eyes. As he sat there numb to the world, he looked up at the north star shining brightly and smiled through his tears, knowing your spirit would be watching over and guiding him no matter what.
Tag List:
@bonniesgoldengirl, @peakyrogers, @ta-ka-shi-ma
#katiesanons#katiesrequests#bonnie gold#bonnie gold imagines#bonnie gold fanfic#bonnie gold oneshots#bonnie gold x reader#bonnie gold x y/n#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagines#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders oneshots#katiesWIPlist#cryin i n the club
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