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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

--------------------------------

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coops #injury #pre-coops #lumosinlove

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kimistorm · 3 years

Text

Did you just ask me out on live stream? [Yang Jeongin]

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: [Jeongin x GN! Reader]

Warnings: none!

Requested by: @stupendousfriendcalzonehands Thanks for the request! Let me know what you think~

Prompts: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” “Did you say you knew how to do this?”

It started as a bet. You and Jeongin couldn’t keep up a weekly podcast for more than 2 months. The way Han phrased it, you could just do it on YouTube and in your dorms, but no, you were fueled by spite and somehow convinced your professor to allow you, Jeongin, and Hyunjin to live stream from the university’s audio studio.

Two months later and you had a small following, so you just continued. Much to Han’s shock.

“On to the final part of the show,” you spoke into your microphone as you scrolled through the outline, “answering your questions!” you let out a snort, “I don’t know why you guys keep asking us for advice. The other day Jeongin tried to joust Seungmin with an icicle.”

“And I won!” your partner declared gleefully with a wide grin.

“Mmm, debatable,” you teased, much to Jeongin’s chagrin, effectively wiping his face of the smile. “He only claims he won because Seungmin’s icicle broke first.”

“Yeah! That’s how it works!”

“But he hit you with it before you broke it!”

Jeongin threw his arms up in frustration, “this isn’t fencing!” From beyond the glass, you saw Hyunjin shaking his head in tired resignation as the two of you deviated from the script yet again and couldn’t help but giggle. “Deal with it Hyunjin,” Jeongin whispered into the mic when he saw what you were giggling at, causing your laughs to escalate. Hyunjin glared at the two of you and Jeongin put his hands up in surrender, “okay okay, actually onto the questions now. Which were chosen by our dear Hyunjin," he mocked with faux sincerity before an evil grin grew on his face, "so if this becomes boring blame him.”

Hyunjin looked like he was going to enter the recording booth and whack the two of you over the head with the rolled-up outline in his hand as his mouth was open in a muffled yell.

“Before Hyunjin takes us off the air, let’s answer some of your questions!” for the third time you tried to continue with what you were supposed to be doing. “This one’s from John. Hey (y/n) and Jeongin! There’s someone who I really like and I want to ask them out on a date. We’ve been getting dinner together, but I don’t think either of us really classify it as a date. It’s mostly been under the pretense of ‘I’m starving, you’re here, let’s go.’ How can I make that leap into asking them on a date versus a friendly get-together? Thanks for the help!” there was a pause of silence as the two of you tried to think of a response, “no offense John, but you’re asking the wrong people. I’ve never been on a date,” you side-eyed Hyunjin for him letting this question pass, “and Jeongin-”

“I’ve been in the same position.”

“What?” you shrieked and the three of you winced as you heard your loud voice through your headphones.

“Warning for headphone users.” Your dark-haired friend mumbled under his breath and took off his headphones to rub at his ear.

“Hold up, when was this?” you looked at Jeongin in bewilderment. The two of you were best friends, and this was a new development for you. You had never heard of Jeongin crushing after someone. Granted, you had only known each other for about 3 years, since the two of you started university, but with the number of late-night ramblings and how often the two of you are together, it could’ve come up.

Jeongin merely shrugged. “I totally understand you, John, it’s difficult, but here’s what I did.” You nodded your head to allow Jeongin to continue, seeing as you had no way to help. “It’s hard to tell from your letter, but how close are the two of you? I got closer and closer to the person who I liked. It developed from ‘hey you’re in the same class as me,’ to something more. It became late-night shenanigans, staying up late talking about anything and everything, watching movies, and of course, doing homework together. Though, to be real, we suck at doing homework when we’re together.” He added with a laugh.

There was a pleasant smile on his face as he reminisced this person, he looked genuinely at peace, and it surprised you. Whoever this person was, they made a big impact on Jeongin’s life. It was strange that you never heard of this person, besides, Jeongin seemed to have had some closure with this person. Did it end badly? Is that why you never knew of this enigma? But he looked so happy? It kind of hurt. This person was so pivotal in his life and yet he hid it all from you. Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought. “Half inch by half inch, we became closer.” There was a definitive look on his face as he gave a nod, seemingly happy with his answer.

You, on the other hand, were a little more unconvinced. That couldn’t be the end of the story. Maybe you were a little more miffed because this was news to you, or maybe the reporter in you was finally coming out and wanting to know the conclusion. Either way, there was a bit of an edge to your voice as you asked, “okay, so after how many ½ inches does it become a date?” you turned the conversation back to John’s question, “John seems to already be friends, he just wants to take this person on a date.”

Jeongin let out a scoff and rolled his eyes at you, “it’s not linear.”

There was a pause and when it seemed like Jeongin wasn’t going to speak up again, you continued your dubious proddings, “did you say you knew how to do this?” there was an offended shout from Jeongin and he kicked you from under the table to elicit a startled yelp from you.

“I hope none of our listeners are using headphones.” Jeongin shook his head in empathy, “because my ears burn.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!”

Jeongin childishly stuck his tongue out at you, “things will work out John. I’m sure the more you get to know them the more things will fall into place.” He reassured, though you weren’t feeling reassured, and you figured John probably wasn’t either.

“Did you ever ask your person out on a date?” you asked, still wanting to get closure for your story, seeing as Jeongin wasn’t keen on providing it.

His face reddened and you resisted the urge to crow teasingly at him, “not yet.” He mumbled into the mic, but it was loud enough for you to hear with your headphones.

You leaned back in your chair to get away from the mic and let out a screech, “you don’t know what you’re talking about either!”

“You were just going to write off John’s letter! I couldn’t let you do that.” He protested with his face still red and his gaze averted.

“Ask them out John!” you took matters into your hands seeing as Jeongin was clumsier with love than you were. Hyunjin sure picked the wrong question this time. “There’s no time like the present. Don’t twist one of your normal dinners into a date, specifically plan it. Ask them if they want to go on a date at some other time than what the two of you normally do. The worst that could happen is they say no.”

“That’s mortifying! I could never do that!” the aghast look on Jeongin’s face did little to make you feel guilty.

“That’s why you never asked out your person on a date.” The hurt look that fell on his face did though. “Oh no, I’m sorry.” The chaotic atmosphere that filled the recording booth stilled and you went over to hug your friend, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, you’re right.” He continued in a quiet voice, “I guess I got too scared to do anything, so I decided things were perfectly all right the way they were, even if I wish it was different.”

You smoothed his hair down absentmindedly from your awkward standing position and his sitting position, “relationships are scary. I think you, and John, are valid to be scared.”

“But you’re also right, there’s no time like the present.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “and in the end, neither of us was able to help John.”

“Maybe this will,” you pulled away from Jeongin in confusion so you could look at his face. There was a nervous look settled on his face and he refused to look anywhere close to you, “do you want to go on a date later?”

Your jaw probably dropped comically as you looked at him in bewilderment, “wait-are you-did you-?” did he ask what you think he did? Did he just ask you out? On-air? Was that buzzing in your ear from your headphones? Was this a setup from Hyunjin? Was Jeongin John? Somehow, even as your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, the terrified look on Jeongin’s face was able to clear through the mess and register in your mind. You took a deep breath to stop your word vomit, “yeah.” You smiled, “let’s go on a date. Maybe a dinner date?”

The terrified look immediately washed away and was replaced with a relieved look, “that sounds great.”

Hyunjin’s yelling was so loud that the two of you could faintly hear him screaming, “finally!”

Masterlist

Context bonus: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” One of my female friends was trying to describe to one of my male friends dating, but none of us know how to date.

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scoopsohboi · 3 years

Text

cheers, my dear (robin buckley imagine)

pairing: Robin Buckley/Reader

wc: 1759

warnings: alcohol, smut

read on ao3

The shrill sound of the landline made your skin crawl and you groaned loudly as Robin turned the dial on the stereo to drown out the insistent ringing.

“Why does he keep calling?” you whined as your best friend danced to the music while walking back to the kitchen table you two had been seated at.

It was Friday night, which meant Robin was sleeping over and the two of you had free range of the house since your mom worked late on Fridays. You watched as she swayed her hips rhythmically and your cheeks grew hot as she flipped her hair.

“Because he misses you, babe,” Robin replied nonchalantly while she grabbed the bottle of brown liquor left near two dirty shot glasses and you forced yourself to look away.

You let out a groan. You’d only been dating Greg for a couple months, and since you weren’t really interested in him, you’d broken up with him earlier after school. You thought he’d taken it well, but he’d been calling non-stop for the past hour. You felt bad ignoring the calls, but you really didn’t know what else there was to be said.

“Here,” Robin said and slid you a full shot glass.

You took the glass gratefully and, once Robin had hers in her hand, clinked it against hers.

“Cheers, my dear,” you said and tossed back the drink, now only slightly feeling the burn down your throat.

xxXXXXXxx

You didn’t remember how you’d ended up sitting on the floor in the middle of your bedroom with Robin, but you knew it had been funny. After drinking one too many shots, the two of you had run up to your room and were now laughing uncontrollably, but why it was funny was beyond you. You just liked the sound of Robin’s laugh and you’d be damned if you were the reason it ended.

You swayed a little and leaned into Robin’s shoulder as you giggled. The alcohol was fuzzing your brain, thoughts bubbling up to the surface just to pop before you could realize them. You felt good, though, that was clear enough.

Robin threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh as her body softly shook in rhythm to the sweet sound. You felt it again, that churn in your stomach and burn in your chest. You tried to fight it back, the usual routine, but the feel of Robin against you and the warmth from the whisky made it impossible.

And, if you were being honest, you just didn’t feel like pushing back the feelings.

You always had to be on your best behavior. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t say that. Don’t stare too long. Don’t touch her arm like that. Laugh so she doesn’t know how true it is. Lie. Hide.

Moments alone with Robin always felt so fragile. One wrong step and everything could shatter.

But what if she felt the same way?

You’d caught her staring, too, over the years. You’d seen the look in her eye when the two of you would stay up late during sleepovers, lay in bed inches from each other, sometimes talking and sometimes just silently being together.

Robin leaned back a little too far, fell on her back, and laughed harder as you fell back beside her.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed.

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted, a little louder than intended, and you snorted.

“Yours ‘cause you’re a lightweight,” you slurred. Robin rolled her eyes but smiled brightly.

“Shut up, I’m perfect.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied as you rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. “My perfect, lightweight, Robin,” you cooed as you reached out and cupped her cheek playfully.

Robin’s gaze shifted to your lips briefly and something inside you flared up. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A flame that was always lit simple turned up, fed by Robin’s breath as it softly hit your arm.

You leaned in easily as a surge of confidence coursed through your veins like a shot of adrenaline. You pressed your lips against hers, slightly messily at first and you thought maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to do this for the first time when you were both a bit inebriated.

But then you felt Robin kiss you back. Her hands went to your waist and her soft lips began to move with yours and fuck it if this wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You moved closer so you were better positioned on top of her, one leg between her thighs as one of her hands moved to your ass and her tongue slid along your bottom lip. You parted your lips as you ground your hips down and gave much needed friction to you both while her tongue swirled around yours.

Robin let out a soft moan and encouraged you to keep moving your hips, and you were more than happy to oblige. She bit your lip and you kissed her hungrily. Robin squeezed your ass as she tried to pull you closer to her. You began to move faster and ground roughly against her, rode her thigh harder as you both grew more frantic, years of yearning and lust finally breaking free.

You broke away from Robin’s lips to kiss a trail down her neck and relished every sound she made as you nibbled the soft skin or flicked your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” you nearly growled.

You were beginning to feel lightheaded and gripped her hips for stability as you continued to ride her, her soft breathy moans made your head swim. Forget the whisky, you were drunk on Robin now.

You felt her hands tug on your hem of your shirt and you sat up more so she could lift it over your head. Robin tossed the shirt to the side before unclasping your bra with quick precision. You felt your cheeks flush uncontrollably as she looked up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she said, voice low as she cupped your breast and thumbed over the nipple.

A chill ran down your spine and you hummed softly as you bucked your hips.

“Fuck, Robin,” you muttered, and she softly pinched your nipple as she rolled her hips and urged you to keep moving.

Your breath hitched. You worked yourself against Robin’s leg and could feel your body grow hotter as soft moans escaped your lips. You’d been intimate with other people, but not like this. Never like this. This was raw, and honest, and felt more real than anything else. You wanted more. You needed more.

You moved your hands to Robin’s jeans and let your fingertips run along the skin below her bellybutton. Her hand still on your breast tightened and you bit you lip. You watched Robin’s face as you undid her button and zipper, and sucked on two of your fingers before you slipped them in below the elastic of her underwear.

If Robin had looked lustful before, she now looked like she would burst. Her lips parted and chest heaved as she drew a ragged breath, eyes wide and trained on yours as your fingers began to rub around her clit. You realized you hadn’t even needed to use any spit because Robin was already soaking wet, your fingers sliding in the slick heat.

Robin let out a louder, longer moan than the ones previously elicited, and you made sure to pay close attention to her body movements. You swirled and stayed where her hips bucked and slid inside when her fingers dug into your hips. You kept one hand between her thighs and the other under her shirt as you played with her breasts and unwaveringly rubbed yourself against her thigh.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moaned, and you could tell she was close.

You worked harder and unrelented as her back arched under you. Her moans turned frustrated as she climbed toward her climax and you leaned forward to kiss her. As her tongue touched yours, her hips bucked, and she moaned into your mouth.

You could feel her whole body tremble as you worked her through her orgasm, and you kept your fingers moving until she was done. Watching her put you over the edge as well, and it took you a moment to catch your breath.

Once you were able to form coherent thoughts again, you slid your slick fingers out from between Robin’s thighs and licked Robin off them, the flavor making you wish you hadn’t used your fingers.

“I want to taste you next time,” you admitted aloud and Robin looked speechless.

Robin leaned up and pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, hand on either side of her face as she led you back down with her, mouth open and tongues dancing deliciously. She cupped your ass with one hand and tangled the other in your hair, holding you firmly against her lips. You stayed that way for a moment and enjoyed the way it felt to have Robin’s body flush against yours.

“You have no idea,” Robin began before breaking as you kiss her again, unable to stop now that the floodgates had been broken, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You kissed Robin’s lips softly before looking in her deep blue eyes. No idea? Did she really think you hadn’t been dreaming of this moment, too?

“I think I might,” you said as thoughts of longing stares and chest aches flashed through your mind.

“But Greg-”

“Was a distraction. And a poor one at that.” Robin’s brows furrowed and you couldn’t help but place a soft peck between them. “I only went out with him to... to try and get you off my mind. I’d hoped being with someone would make me stop thinking about you all the time.”

Robin bit the inside of her cheek as she watched you carefully.

“And?”

“And, turns out that’s fucking impossible. I mean damn, Robin, have you met you? I never stood a chance.”

Robin blinked as a soft smile grew on her lips and you couldn’t calm the butterflies that flitted about in your stomach.

“We’re dumb,” she said simply.

You laughed a little and nodded your head.

“Oh, yeah. Very.”

Robin grinned.

“I really like you, dingus,” she said sweetly as she cupped your cheek to bring you back in.

“I really like you, too, dummy,” you whispered against her lips before she kissed you, and you felt her smile.

#robin buckley imagine #robin buckley reader #stranger things fic #i havent written in like 2 years ignore me i just feel like sharing #scoopydoo #robin buckley fic #long post

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supercantaloupe · 3 years

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okay yeah actually, i’ll bite. i’ve got some of my own thoughts about the unsleeping city and cultural representation and i’m gonna make a post about them now, i guess. i’ll put it under a cut though because this post is gonna be long.

i wanna start by saying i love dimension 20 and i really really enjoy the unsleeping city. i look forward to watching new episodes every week, and getting hooked on d20 as a whole last summer really helped pull me out of a pandemic depression, and i’m grateful to have this cool show to be excited about and interested in and to have met so many cool people to talk about it with.

that being said, however, i think there is a risk run in representing any group of people/their culture when you have the kind of setting that tuc has. by which i mean, tuc is set in a real world with real people and real human cultures in it. unlike fantasy high or a crown of candy where everything is made up (even if rooted in real-world cultures), tuc is explicitly rooted in reality, and all of its diversity -- both the ups and downs that go with it. and especially set in new york of all places, one of the most densely, diversely populated cities on earth. the cast is 7 people; it’s great that those 7 people come from a variety of backgrounds and identities and all bring their own unique perspectives to the table, and it’s great that those people and the entire crew are generally conscious of themselves and desire to tell stories/represent perspectives ethically. but you simply cannot authentically represent every culture or every perspective in the world (or even just in a city) when your cast is 7 people. it’s an impossible task. this is inherent to the setting, and acknowledged by the cast, and by brennan especially, who has been on record saying how one of the exciting aspects of doing a campaign set in nyc is its diversity, the fact that no two new yorkers have the same perspective of new york. i think that’s a good thing -- but it does have its challenges too, clearly.

i’m not going to go into detail on the question of whether or not tuc’s presentation of asian and asian american culture is appropriative/offensive or not. first of all, i don’t feel like it’s 100% fair to judge the show completely yet, since it’s a prerecorded season and currently airing midseason, so i don’t yet know how things wrap up. secondly, i’m not asian or asian american. i can have my own opinions on that content in the show, but i think it’s worth more to hear actual asian and asian american voices on this specific aspect of the show. having an asian american cast member doesn’t automatically absolve the show of any criticisms with regard to asian american cultural representation/appropriation, whether those criticisms are made by dozens of viewers or only a handful of them. regardless, i don’t think it’s my place as someone who is not asian to speak with any authority on that issue, and i know for a fact that there are asian american viewers sharing their own opinions. their thoughts in this instance hold more water than mine, i think.

what i will comment on in more depth, though, is a personal frustration with tuc. i’m jewish; i’ve never really been shy about that fact on my page here. i’m not from new york, but i visit a few times a year (or i did before covid anyway, lol), and i have some family from nyc. nyc, to me, is a jewish city. and for good reason, since it’s home to one of the largest jewish populations of the country, and even the world, and aspects of jewish culture (including culinary, like bagels and pastrami, and linguistic, like the common use of yiddish words and phrases in english colloquial speech) are prevalent and celebrated among jews and goyim alike. when i think of nyc, i think of a jewish city; that’s not everybody’s new york, but that’s my new york, and thats plenty of other people’s new york too. so i do find myself slightly disappointed or frustrated in tuc for its, in my opinion, rather stark lack of jewish representation.

now, i’m not saying that one of the PCs should have been jewish, full stop. i love to headcanon iga as jewish even though canon does not support that interpretation, and i’m fine with that. she’s not my character. it’s possible that simply no one thought of playing a jewish character, i dunno. but also, and i can’t be sure about this, i’m willing to bet that none of the players really wanted to play a jewish character because they didn’t want to play a character of a marginalized culture they dont belong to in the interest of avoiding stereotyping or offensive representation/cultural appropriation. (i don’t know if any of the cast members are jewish, but i’m assuming not.) and the concern there is certainly appreciated; there’s not a ton of mainstream jewish rep out there, and often what we get is either “unlikeable overly conservative hassidic jew” or “jokes about their bar mitzvah/one-off joke about hanukkah and then their jewishness is never mentioned ever again,” which sucks. it would be really cool to see some more good casual jewish rep in a well-rounded, three-dimensional character in the main cast of a show! even if there are a couple of stumbles along the way -- nobody is perfect and no two jews have the same level of knowledge, dedication, and adherence to their culture.

but at the same time, i look at characters like iga and i really do long for a jewish character to be there. siobhan isn’t polish, yet she’s playing a characters whose identity as a polish immigrant to new york is very central to her story and arc. and part of me wonders why we can’t have the same for a jewish character. if not a PC, then why not an NPC? again, i’m jewish, and i am not native, but in my opinion i think the inclusion of jj is wonderful -- i think there are even fewer native main characters in mainstream media than there are jewish ones, and it’s great to see a native character who is both in touch with their culture as well as not being defined solely by their native-ness. to what extent does it count as ‘appropriative’ because brennan is a white dude? i dunno, but i’m like 99% sure they talked to sensitivity consultants to make sure the representation was as ethical as they could get it, and anyway, i can’t personally see and glaring missteps so far. but again, i’m not native, and if there are native viewers with their own opinions on jj, i’d be really interested in hearing them.

but getting back to the relative lack of jewish representation. it just...disappoints me that jewishness in new york is hardly ever even really mentioned? again, i know we’re only just over halfway through season 2, but also, we had a whole first season too. and it’s definitely not all bad. for example: willy! gd, i love willy so much. him being a golem of williamsburg makes me really really happy -- a jewish mythological creature animated from clay/mud (in this case bricks) to protect a jewish community (like that of williamsburg, a center for many of nyc’s jews) from threat. golem have so often been taken out of their original context and turned into evil monsters in fantasy settings, especially including dnd. (even within other seasons of d20! crush in fh being referred to as a “pavement golem” always rubbed me the wrong way, and i had hoped they’d learned better after tuc but in acoc they refer to another monster as a “corn golem” which just disappointed me all over again.) so the fact that tuc gets golems right makes my jewish heart very happy.

and yet...he doesn’t show up that much? sure, in s1, he’s very helpful when he does, but in s2 so far he shows up once and really does not say or do much of anything. he speaks with a lot more yiddish-influenced language than other characters, but if you didn’t know those words were specifically yiddish/jewish, you might not be able to otherwise clock the fact that willy is jewish. and while willy is a jewish mythological creature who is jewish in canon, he isn’t human. there are no other direct references to judaism, jewish characters, or jewish culture in the unsleeping city beyond him.

there are, in fact, two other canon jewish characters in tuc. but...here’s where i feel the most frustration, i think. the two canon jewish humans in tuc are stephen sondheim and robert moses. both of whom are real actual people, so it’s not like we can just pick and choose what their cultural backgrounds are. as much as i love stephen sondheim, i think there are inherent issues with including real world people as characters in a fictional setting, especially if they are from living/recent memory (sondheim is literally still alive), but anyway, sondheim and moses are both actual jewish people. from watching tuc alone you probably would not be able to guess that sondheim is jewish -- nothing from his character except name suggests it, and i wouldn’t even fault you for not thinking ‘sondheim’ is a jewish-sounding surname (and i dislike the idea/attitude/belief that you can tell who is or isn’t jewish by the sound of their name). and yeah, i’m not going to sit here and be like “brennan should have made sondheim more visibly jewish in canon!” because, like, he’s a real human being and it’s fucking weird to portray him in a way that isn’t as close to how he publicly presents himself, which is not in fact very identifiably jewish? i don’t know, this is what i mean by it’s inherently weird and arguably problematic to portray real living people as characters in a fictional setting, but i digress. sondheim’s jewish, even if you wouldn’t know it; not exactly a representation win.

and then there’s bob moses. you might be able to guess that he’s jewish from canon, actually. there’s the name, of course. but more insidious to me are the specifics of his villainy. greedy and powerhungry, a moneyman, a lich whose power is stored in a phylactery...it does kind of all add up to a Yikes from me. (in the stock market fight there’s a one-off line asking if he has green skin; it’s never really directly acknowledged or answered, but it made me really uncomfortable to hear at first and it’s stuck with me since viewing for the first time.) the issue for me here is that the most obviously jewish human character is the season’s bbeg, and his villainy is rooted in very antisemitic tropes and stereotypes.

i know this isn’t all brennan’s fault -- robert moses was a real ass person and he was in fact jewish, a powerhungry and greedy moneyman, a big giant racist asshole, etc. i’m not saying that jewish characters can’t be evil, and i’m not saying brennan should have tried to be like “this is my NPC robert christian he’s just like bob moses but instead he’s a goy so it’s okay” because...that would be fuckin weird bro. and bob moses was a real person who was jewish and really did do some heinous shit with his municipal power. i’m not necessarily saying brennan should have picked/created a different character to be the villain. i’m not even saying that he shouldn’t have made bob moses a lich (although, again, it doesn’t 100% sit right with me). but my point here is that bob moses is one of a grand total of three canon jewish characters in tuc, of which only two humans, of whom he is the one you’d most easily guess would be jewish and is the most influenced by antisemitic stereotypes/tropes. had there been more jewish representation in the show at all, even just some neutral jewish NPCs, this would not be as much of a problem as it is to me. but halfway through season 2, so far, this is literally all we get. and that bums me out.

listen, i really like tuc. i love d20. but the fact that it is set in a real world place with real world people does inherently raise challenges when it comes to ethical cultural representation. especially when the medium of the show is a game whose creatures, lore, and mechanics have been historically rooted in some questionable racial/cultural views. and dnd is making progress to correct some of those misguided views of older sourcebooks by updating them to more equitably reflect real world racial/cultural sensitivities; that’s a good thing! but these seasons, of course, were recorded before that. the game itself has some questionable cultural stuff baked into it, and that is (almost necessarily) going to be brought to the table in a campaign set in a real-world place filled with real-world people of diverse real-world cultures. the cast can have sensitivity consultants and empathy and the best intentions in the world, and they’ll still fuck up from time to time, that’s okay. your mileage may vary on whether or not it’s still worth sticking around with the show (or the fandom) through that. for me, it does not yet outweigh all the things i like about the show, and i’m gonna continue watching it. but it’s still very worth acknowledging that the cast is 7 people who cannot possibly hope to authentically or gracefully represent every culture in nyc. it’s an unfortunate limitation of the medium. yet it’s also still worthwhile to acknowledge and discuss the cultural representation as it is in the show -- both the goods and the bads, the ethically solid and the questionably appropriative -- and even to hold the creators accountable. (decently, though. i’m definitely not advocating anybody cyberbully brennan on twitter or whatever.) the show and its representation is far from perfect, but i also don’t think it ever could be. still, though, it could always be better, and there’s a worthwhile discussion to be had in the wheres, hows, and whys of that.

#sasha reviews #sasha speaks #the unsleeping city #unsleeping city #long post #dimension 20 #gd i stayed up way too late to write this #tuc #the unsleeping city chapter 2 #the unsleeping city 2 #tuc2 #antisemitism

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Do you ever feel like you're pushing a boulder up a hill defending characters against the same whole-hearted misinformation that keeps getting repeated again & again as if it's canon? I tried 4 times in a chat thread where people kept insisting that Dick Grayson and even the Teen Titans were jerks to Jason Todd when he was Robin. I don't know how you do it. No matter what you say, it just keeps going. No canon is ever enough. Why are some fans so set on the idea that everyone ostracized Jason?

Ooof yeah, that’s a whole barrel of annoying. The big gripe for me, in both my major fandoms, is that so much of the misinformation comes paired with this contradictory insistence on how much people don’t give a fuck about canon.....even while willfully trying to reinvent canon to say what they want it to say, in order to back up their version of events or take on various characters!

Its like, if you don’t give a fuck about canon, THEN DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT CANON. Don’t TELL me you don’t give a fuck about canon, and then GO OFF on how canon does all these things that canon most definitely does not do, thereby casting MUCH MUCH doubt upon your claims of not giving a fuck about canon, and suggesting that in fact, you do give quite a bit of fucks about canon, actually.

Y’know?

fahsklfhalfhkafl

But honestly, I’m not the person to give advice on this front because oof, I make bad choices here. LOLOLOL, no but for real, I can’t really tell you how to just deal with this because I’m like, I do not have mastery of that skillset myself. I have however long since exhausted myself of any illusions about CHANGING the minds of people who are particularly insistent upon things that never happened informing their particular view of characters, because like.....the reality is, people who come into fandoms emotionally invested in views of characters that they derived from other fics or fanons, like......it doesn’t matter that those things aren’t canon, what matters is their emotional investment in this particular fandom is entirely bound up in those particular views no matter WHERE they originated from, and so most of them aren’t changing their minds any time soon because they don’t WANT another viewpoint, their original one is the reason they’re here and invested in the first place.

BUT at the same time, everybody wants to feel validated in their viewpoints, so the more that viewpoint is challenged by people being like uh no, here’s a thing that says you’re wrong, look, its here, its clear, the facts say shhhhhh the marketing campaign for all the Hateorade you’ve drunk about this character is based entirely on The Sky Is Green If We Say It Is logic.....the more people are like, determined to prove they’re right, even if their own personal conviction ORIGINALLY was not dependent on canon whatsoever and it only retroactively started mattering to them not as a source point for how they view characters but like, rather, a data point for Here’s How I Can Still Win This Argument.

And here’s where being in a comics fandom gets really fucking annoying:

Because there are so damn many comics.

And like, a lot of people in comics fandoms don’t even read the comics, and say so - and I mean, this is fine? If you’re here for the characters you don’t need to be here for the comics, so if you don’t actually like comics, like don’t read the comics, just read fic. Its whatever. BUT the bigger issue in my experience is like.....people arguing about comics canon even when they haven’t read the comics, like....often project onto everyone they’re arguing with, like, their own stance on comics.

What I mean by that is a lot of the people arguing about comics canon even when they proudly haven’t read a comic in their life because there are so many where would they even start and also, eww, I’m not doing all that.....like....there’s this presumption evident in a lot of arguments that the same holds true for everyone else in comics fandoms.....that none of the rest of us have read all those comics either, because how could anyone? There’s so many of them!

Forgetting of course, that many of us come into these fandoms from entirely different trajectories. If you come into a comics fandom because of fanfics, or a cartoon adaptation, or the movies.....upon your first day in fandom, when you look at all the comics canon that’s out there, you’re like holy shit that’s a lot, nobody could ever read all that, I’m certainly not going to read all that, I’m going back to fics.

BUT for those of us who came into these fandoms from the direction of reading the comics......our perspective was entirely different, because it was never some singular monolithic VASTNESS of unread comics that nobody could ever tackle because where would we even begin. For those of us who were reading comics for years or most of our lives......its been a handful of issues a month, month after month, year after year, rather than all in one sitting.

So the point of conflict becomes the presumption from a lot of fans who AREN’T here because of the comics, that comic book canon is this untapped cornucopia of potential validation, Schrodinger’s Canon, it can be basically whatever they want it to be, because who’s to say it ISN’T? If they can’t read all of that, nobody can read all of that, so when you think about it, its entirely plausible that the thing they insist happened in canon actually DID happen in canon, SOMEWHERE in all of that.....because just because they don’t know where it is and can’t point to it as explicitly existing, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist either. Who’s to say, really?

Well. Umm. People who in fact actually HAVE read all or most of the RELEVANT comics. Like yeah nobody’s read every comic ever I bet, lolol, but for lifelong DC readers, canon ISN’T this vast uncharted territory that can potentially contain everything.....its actually quite charted, and there are people who absolutely do know what it does and does not contain.

And this I think is at the heart of the insistence on particular points of argument, like Jason was always perpetually mistreated and Dick and the Titans hated him on sight and that’s why the Knights of the Order of Protection for the Smol Jason Bean hate Dick, because he was a giant jerkface to a little kid who never did anything to him ever. Like it doesn’t matter how much we point out that no, this did not in fact happen and is untrue, COMPLETELY, like.....people who came into fandom because of fics about Jason in which the entire perspective upon his character is uniformly, with virtually no exception, that he was scapegoated by Dick from Day One and he and Dick will always be eternally at odds because of the remnants of what a jerk and failure of a brother Dick was to him at first.......like, I feel like there’s this conviction lying underneath all those arguments, no matter how much canon they’re presented with, that there still exists out there SOMEWHERE, some untapped treasure trove of panels proving what a buttface Dick was to his first little brother, validating everything they’ve ever believed and thought ever, because look all those depictions of Dick being a giant assbutt to Jason in fics had to come from SOMEWHERE after all, didn’t they?

Well, yeah. They did come from somewhere. They came from the writers who wrote those fics that way because they either just hated Dick’s character or they were working through their own sibling angst and projected certain dynamics onto the characters or someone told them this is what things were like in the comics and they didn’t know any different or just didn’t care or a hundred million other possible reasons for why they wrote them that way with none of those reasons being Cuz Canon Said So.....and then those particular depictions caught on and multiplied fruitfully like the offspring of rabbits doing it sans contraceptives.

Because its not like “perpetual black sheep of the family so unfairly hated, so misunderstood, especially by the family’s favored son, the golden boy” is a fan favorite trope on its own, regardless of whether or not the characters said trope is applied to actually FIT that trope.

So in the end, the painful irony was not only did canon have nothing to do with that trend, canon COULD do nothing about that trend, because the reasons people turned to it, despite how often canon gets brought into it....really had nothing to do with canon.

So tbh, my personal stance these days is the best defense to fic-borne and originating views of the characters and their dynamics is NOT canon, its....more fic. Fic that presents a counter-narrative to the ones that are so often the first thing people see when they enter fandom, and thus become engrained as Truth. So that there’s at least more variety out there, because where there’s variety, there’s varied points of view, and the more people internalize THAT, that there are variations to be found in how these characters relate to each other and their shared histories......the more people have to make a CHOICE about what variations they most want to adhere to, from among the OPTIONS they’re presented with, instead of just doubling down on the first thing that clicks for them, no opposition in sight.

And if these counter “Dick’s just the worst like what an uber asshole gonna give a five star rating for Sucking At Life to that guy” fics happen to be inspired largely by canon rather than fanon like....oh no, how strange and unknowable, that’s not the Process, we’re doing it wrong but hey whatever.

But does that mean its not still frustrating as hell to see people just parroting the Dick and the Titans were mean to Jason truism as fact, especially when you know damn well its not? Hell no. That’s annoying as fuck. But don’t worry so much about trying to change peoples’ minds, I say, and instead just find people who ARE open to canon or familiar with it, and just have a good rant. Its fun!

Here, I’ll start:

UGH AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT THIS WHOLE “DICK WAS SUCH A JERK TO JASON AND THE TITANS ALL FOLLOWED HIS LEAD” CRAPOLA SUMMER SALES EVENT:

Where would that even have happened???

Like what really chuffs my chopped onions here is when people are so suuuuuuuure that the gatekeepers of comic book fandom are keeping the real juicy anti-Dick panels hidden every time they ask “Hey Siri show me proof Dick’s a jerkmonster to Jason”....because like...they’re just SO SURE these panels are out there and its like lololol but where would they even come from?

Because everybody overlooks that in proper Dickens fashion, pre-Flashpoint Jason was a Tale of Two Jasons, the pre-Crisis adorable child of sunshine and whee, and the post-Crisis I have smoker’s lung at age twelve Jason......and these two Jasons can and do and are MEANT to co-exist within the same body! They’re the same Jason, in hindsight!

See, post-Crisis Jason only existed for like, less than TWO YEARS real world time, before A Death in the Family! People have this assumption that because of how rock-solid the post-Crisis origin for him is and how solidly that’s informed his characterization and stories moving forward, like.....there was this HUGE foundation for it back in the day that was built upon.....but no! We’re talking like, less than twenty four issues IN TOTAL. Post-Crisis Jason was a drop in the bucket compared to pre-Crisis Jason.

So why then, is post-Crisis Jason so much more firmly cemented in peoples’ minds than pre-Crisis Jason even though pre-Crisis Jason had way more material written about him?

Because for once in DC’s existence, they were SMART about a retcon. They didn’t TRY to pit post-Crisis Jason versus pre-Crisis Jason and make people pick between them. Post-Crisis Jason wasn’t an attempt at overwriting pre-Crisis Jason and making it so he never existed. Instead, what they did with their limited amount of time writing post-Crisis Jason was overwrite only two stories specifically: his actual pre-Crisis origin, and how he and Dick first met....and then they let everything else from pre-Crisis stay! It just got folded IN BETWEEN Jason’s new post-Crisis origin and everything that came after that, thanks to some handy non-linear storytelling and flashbacks.

So rather than Jason having two entirely separate storylines and directions, they still kept him at just one....and his post-Crisis origin and A Death in the Family became BOOKENDS surrounding not just the twenty issues in between those two stories......but ALSO surrounding ALL the pre-Crisis issues featuring Jason.....including the times he interacted with Dick and the Titans.

And that’s why there’s no untapped treasure trove of potentially vilifying issues showcasing Dick being such a can of Jerkola to Jason.......

Because post-Crisis only amounted to a grand total of like twenty something issues.....in which Jason interacted with Dick once and only once....the issue which ends with Dick giving Jason his blessing as Robin, his costume, and his phone number to call him if he ever has any problems with Bruce.

But simultaneously, because all those pre-Crisis issues still existed, were still relevant, were still in continuity (as evidenced by Jason himself when he came back as the Red Hood and fought Tim at Titans Tower, referencing how he was briefly a Titan himself.......aka those issues in which he teamed up with the Titans, which ONLY happened before his new origin)....we similarly know that it wasn’t like Dick and Jason never had any contact after their first post-Crisis encounter....we just never saw Jason use that phone number on the page AFTER that issue (because again, there was no time before he was killed off in the comics TO engineer another on the page meet-up, like both characters were busy in unrelated stories in the course of the mere year between that issue and ADITF). BUT by the power of retcon, we do know that Jason still must have used it at some point, or else Dick reached out to him again at some later point off the page......because Dick and Jason’s easy familiarity with each other pre-Crisis STILL EXISTED AS WELL. They had a sibling relationship post-Crisis because they had a sibling relationship pre-Crisis...AND IT WAS THE SAME RELATIONSHIP.

And this is Part Two of why no untapped treasure trove of Jerk Dick and Poor Jason panels exists......because other than that one post-Crisis issue, all their other interactions hail from the pre-Crisis era....where Dick adored Jason and so did the rest of the Titans.

Jason wasn’t resentful of the Titans or scared of them or nursing grudges, he thought getting to hang out with his big brother’s friends WAS THE COOLEST FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD and you could practically see him bouncing on the page the times it happened. He glowed when Dick would ruffle his hair playfully or compliment him, and the Titans’ collective energy towards Jason was very much OH OUR FRIEND’S BABY BRO IS THE MOST ADORABLE SMALL CHILD EVER AND WE WILL PROTECT HIM WITH OUR LIVES.

Like people WILLFULLY misconstrue this one issue where Jason teamed up with the Original Titans other than Dick for a mission against Cheshire, and claim like “oh see, this is the proof that the Titans were mean to Jason because of Dick, they kept giving him shit for not being Dick and hated him for replacing Dick....” which omg noooooooooooo, that is so odiously NOT what happened in that issue. First off, NOBODY blamed Jason for replacing Dick back then, because at the time those issues were written, he DIDN’T....this was when Dick had given Robin to Jason himself, when choosing to move on as Nightwing. And even RETROACTIVELY looking at this issue in light of the retcon where Dick was fired as Robin, this STILL changes nothing about Dick and Jason’s dynamic at this particular time or how the rest of the Titans would have viewed Jason as of this issue.....because that’s where the post-Crisis issue specifically writing Dick and Jason’s new introduction to each other on the page matters so much. As now the ultimate takeaway is even while not making Jason Robin himself, this issue STILL showed Dick giving Jason his blessing.....thus maintaining and stabilizing every pre-Crisis interaction between Jason and the Titans and ensuring that this whole “they resented him on Dick’s behalf” scenario wouldn’t throw any retroactive curveballs into how they were with Jason...because now there still was no need for anything on Dick’s behalf, as far as Jason was concerned, because Dick had given his A-Ok.

So that just flat out never happened, not originally, pre-Crisis, and not even in hindsight after the post-Crisis retcons were factored in, because the HOW of the post-Crisis retcons specifically factored in an avoidance of this potential tangle.

And in fact, what DID happen in the arc where Jason teamed up with the Titans without Dick, to go up against Cheshire.......is that Donna, who was in charge of the team at the time, kept trying to defer to Jason-as-Robin, because subconsciously she was insecure about her leadership at the time and having a Robin at her side was making her think of when Dick had been in that role, and simultaneously been their leader, and thus she was trying to lean into the familiar comforts of being able to turn to a Robin for direction.

And Jason CALLED HER OUT ON THIS. Politely. And cutely. No for real it was adorable. But like, he did it with poise and self-confidence and deliberation, and SHE HEARD HIM. She snapped out of it. Jason laid out exactly what she was doing and why and Donna was like oh shit, you’re right, I HAVE been doing that. And Jason was like, and that’s not fair to me. And Donna was like no, you’re absolutely right, that isn’t fair to you, I’m sorry. And Jason’s like, I can’t be the leader here, I don’t have the experience that Dick does. But you do, and you can be the leader. And Donna was like. You’re three for three kiddo, damn you’re good at this.

AND THEN THEY WENT AND KICKED BAD GUY ASS TOGETHER AND EVERYTHING WAS HUNKY-DORY BECAUSE THE POINT OF THAT ENTIRE PLOT WAS NOT “EVERYONE IS MEAN TO POOR JASON BECAUSE DICK MADE A CONSPIRACY OF MEANNESS” IT WAS “JASON’S A KICK-ASS LITTLE GO-GETTER WHO KNOWS HIS STRENGTHS AND HIS STRENGTH IS TELLING PEOPLE WHEN THEY’RE BEING DUMB AND THEY NEED TO STOP THAT.”

Okay, one caveat here. I must confess, its killing me....there is ONE Titan who was a jerk to Jason.

But uh....that Titan was Hank Hall aka Hawk. And he’s a jerk to everybody. Its kinda his superpower.

And he most certainly didn’t do it on Dick’s behalf, as Hank hates Dick and Dick hates Hank asfhilfhalfhalf. Seriously, they’re basically the hateship that ppl keep trying to make Dick and Jason into, only without the incest makes it spicy or whatever element, but like, if you’re not hung up on that and can ship people without them being related, oh no, oh woe, oh say it ain’t so, like, DickHank is the unsung hateship of dreaaaaaaaaaaams. They’re like:

Hank: As it is a day ending in y, I feel now is the perfect time to let you know, without prompting, that I hate your guts because people like you. And I hate people and everything they like, on account of people are the worst.

Dick: Well, you’re people, and you’re the worst, so that tracks.

Hank: So we’re agreed. I hate you. You hate me.....

Dick: Our hate is so in harmony.

Donna: What is even happening here and do I want to know.

Roy: In reverse order, no, probably not, and I’m not sure, but I THINK they’re getting hate married, and exchanging vows to hate each other in sickness and in health, forever and ever.

Wally: *skidding around corner* I CALL BEST MAN.

Donna: Its not a real wedding Wally.

Roy: Idk they seem pretty serious about it. Which means the best man position should be valid here, which means it should be me, because suck it West, only way you’ll ever be Dick’s best man is over my dead body.

Wally: Get ready to throw down then, Robin Hood, and just call me the Sheriff of Notachanceinhell, that best man position is MINE.

Garth: Whoa, hold up, I have an agreement IN WRITING from when we were THIRTEEN for Dick and I to be each other’s best men at our weddings, so I’m gonna need you both to stand down, I LITERALLY CALLED DIBS. Look. ITS IN WRITING.

Donna: Oh for fuck’s sake, you collective pluralization of buffoons, STOP TREATING THIS AS A REAL THING. ITS NOT A REAL THING.

Dick, eyes dead-locked on Hank: Oh this is real Donna. This is happening.

Hank, stepping forward, eyes equally locked: I have never been more serious about anything in my life.

Lilith: Sure, you’ve only both saved the world but hey why should that matter. This is definitely the real shit.

Hank: Please. I only did that to prove I could do it better than Dick could. I hate the world.

Dick: Aww, and did you cry yourself to sleep when that flopped?

Hank: Wouldn’t know. It didn’t happen.

Donna: I swear by every god on Mt. Olympus, the first one of you to say I know you are but what am I is getting flung into orbit.

Anyway. I might have gotten distracted somewhere in there. What was your question again and did I answer it? I think I did....fahlkfhaklfhalhfa.

107 notes · View notes

personasintro · 4 years

Text

either way | knj drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; it's just a matter of time before one of you snap

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; namjoon x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, smut, e2l

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: fingering, strong language, penetrative & unprotected sex, creampie, biting kink

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by the wonderful @falsemagic who was kind enough to let me share this with you!

Humans are difficult to deal with it, especially when you're surrounded by hundreds of them every day. The older you get, you always realize how hard it is to work with them. Although, you're not someone who gets irked by the littlest thing and your patience is set high, there is still one person that makes your blood boil just from hearing his voice.

Kim Namjoon is the definition of perfect employee, who's doing more than his job. Maybe that's why he irritates you so much to the point, you can't even stand his voice. From what you've heard, he graduated from one of the best colleges in South Korea which earned him to work in this firm just a few months after he graduated.

It took you four years to get here, something he managed to do in record time, just because your college isn't as prestigious as his is. Jealousy is an ugly quality a human being can have, you're aware of that. Yet, every inch of your body hates him for being so perfect.

When you first started, it took you some time to get used to things, especially to a new environment along with your position. You messed up couple of times, didn't prove yourself of being worthy to get a better position, and Kim Namjoon didn't help with that.

You can perfectly imagine him being that one annoying kid in high school, who'd always raise his hand at every chance he got. Because it felt the same way whenever he interrupted your presentation, coming with wiser opinions and ideas. It was your only way to prove yourself that you're perfectly capable of doing the same job like he does, even without all the diplomas and experiences he had.

He had it so easy, and still has. It irritates you how everyone always agree with him, he could literally tell them to jump out of the window and you're pretty sure they would. Everything he says or does is a pure gold, an automatic success for the company.

It was exactly three years of watching him swaying his way to every meeting, proposing ideas which always became real. You've never had that many opportunities to talk to him outside of the meeting, when he'd just interrupt your speech with a brief raise of hand, pointing your errors. It was boiling inside of you for so long, that one day you just let it out.

“Who does he think he is? Just because he has a perfect education, everything he says is right and perfect?” you snap, trashing your hands to prove your point. Just the thought of the meeting that ended five minutes ago, is making you furious.

It's the same old story. You came with perfect idea how to save more money, where the Mr. I Know Everything just cut you off once again. He has to make it on purpose, there's no way he's being like this with everyone.

“Well, he had a point.” Jungkook says, causing you to glare at him right away. Did he just agree with Namjoon?

“See? This is my point! Everyone just agrees with everything he says,” you blurt out, not being able to contain your anger anymore. Jungkook widens his eyes, surprised by your sudden outburst and he opens his mouth, probably trying to calm you down and not to raise too much attention in the middle of cafeteria. “Education is not the most important thing. People can be very good in what they're doing but they're never going to get a opportunity to bring something new, when there are people like him.”

Poor Jungkook, the only employee you can vent to about your hatred feelings about Namjoon's personality, just stares at you with worried eyes. It pisses you off even more, because Jungkook is one of those people who think of him as an inspiration for the company and to other colleagues. Everyone is fucking blind when it comes to Namjoon.

Yeah, that guy knows what he's doing and his ideas are great. But he keeps attacking you, not giving you enough space to become better.

“Okay, I think you should calm down. I know you hate him, but even you know he's really best in what he's doing.” Jungkook interferes, words carefully spilling out of his mouth as he waits for his coffee to be done.

His words dig into your heart even more, spilling more anger and you try really hard not to scream in desperation.

“Yeah, go suck his dick, Jungkook,” you roll your eyes, catching the way his brows shoot up in surprise before he frowns in hurt. You're being rude to your only friend here, but he's not exactly being a friend, does he? “He thinks he's so perfect, always helping everyone even when they don't ask him for it. He's so fucking annoying, I can't stand him. Does he think he owns it here?” you continue, spitting every word with so much anger that you miss Jungkook's widened eyes.

“Y/N, I think you should--”

“What? Now you want me to shut up because I'm telling you my opinion? I'm not going to shut up just because we're talking about Mr. Kim Perfect Namjoon. He's so fucking irritating, always in everyone's faces--”

“Seriously, Y/N--”

“What?!” you yell out of frustration, completely oblivious that the whole cafeteria turned silent and people stare at you.

Your cheeks flush, embarrassment washing over you over the fact they probably heard every word you just said. You stand by it, but the look they give you makes you want to hide. Of course, they would stare at you like that, they're up in Namjoon's ass probably ever since he started to work here.

You finally notice the way Jungkook coughs awkwardly, reaching for his coffee as his eyes look behind your shoulder. Huffing, you turn around to follow his vision of line but your breath is hitched in your throat when your eyes meet the one and only, Namjoon himself.

His face is unreadable, standing just a few meters away from you with a piece of cake in his hands, before a dark glare illuminates his warm eyes. You're fucked. He heard every word you said, with the rest of the staff. You can't even open your mouth before he turns around and leaves the room, leaving you with your red cheeks and guilt digging in your heart.

Since then, nothing much changed. He still interrupted you whenever you had your presentation going on, barely looking at you but if he did, he'd have this dark look in his eyes. That time you've realized he hates you the same way you hate him. Maybe he always did, but now he just finally had the guts to show it.

A single glimpse of him wearing a dark blue button up with black slacks, a thick lenses sitting on the bridge of his nose, is enough to make you clench your jaw in annoyance. That bastard is hot, and he probably knows it by the heart eyes he gets from almost every women in the conference room. He's holding a pen, clicking on the small controller as another slide fills the white wall. He speaks clearly and wisely, explaining everything that needs to be explained, before someone can even think about the question.

You're not in denial, you know he's very wise and attentive, probably works hard in his free time as well. You're jealous that he knows everything and can think of solution in minutes, you're jealous how every colleague of yours admires him. It's okay to acknowledge his work, but constantly talking about him, praising him for the smallest things he does, is just irritating. Everyone is so far up his ass that it's unbelievable.

The conference room is darkened with blinds, making sure everyone sees Namjoon's presentations projecting on the wall, and you take that time to fully observe him. He doesn't seem to be abashed by the amount of eyes set on him, not showing an ounce of nervousness on his face or mannerism. He looks relaxed, the complete opposite of you when you're in the same position as he is.

It's wrecking enough that the CEO of the building is sitting at the head of the table, listening to presentations every Friday, along with other employees. There are twenty of you, throwing ideas at the end of each presentation and showing your opinions, but the final word always comes from Mr. Jung.

“Thank you everyone.” Namjoon says, bowing slightly when it's the end of his presentation.

The same round of applause resounds in the room, causing you to mentally roll your eyes at them. They barely give anyone applause and if, it's weak and forced. You hate how everyone seems to be so enthusiastic by him and his stupid presentation. Luckily, you had time to take notes and weren't busy gawking at that dickhead.

Blinds are up, a bright light illuminating the whole room as Mr. Jung gives him the words of praise which causes Namjoon to smile at him, showing a gratitude with a brief bow. You sigh, clicking your pen against the glass table as you look up at him. He catches your eyes, staring at you behind the desk as he cancels his presentation. He has the audacity to raise his brow at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek almost as if asking you 'what you are staring at?'.

You can't hide your roll of eyes this time, quickly looking away from his. It's embarrassing enough that your eyes met in another hateful stare.

“Does anyone have any objections?” Mr. Jung asks, but it's a simple formality he always does, just to show that everyone can speak up. He knows no one will have any objections, not when it comes to Namjoon. Even the round of applause is the same as every time he speaks up in front of everyone.

Although, you haven't had that many opportunities to say something, because yes, it's hard to object against Namjoon. His ideas are wise and makes sense, that's why you always listen to his every word even if he and his stupid voice irritates you so much.

But now, it's a great opportunity to say something, and you raise your hand with a silent cough.

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N?” Mr. Jung speaks, hiding the look of surprise behind his glasses, as he acknowledges you.

The whole room is silent, surprised that you've decided to speak and since everyone knows about the hatred you feel to each other, it causes a weird tension in the room. Luckily, you've learned your lesson and you're professional. You won't let him interfere with your work and make you seem like a bad guy. It happened a year ago, and you haven't said anything close as explicit as you should've.

“Well, Namjoon wants BADA to be expanded Gwanagku district, which would be a great idea since streets are busy all the time. But,” you speak, eyes glancing at Namjoon who can't stop himself from frowning and you almost smirk at that sight. “Seoul National University is only about ten minutes away from the new building that's on sale.”

“I see, although, I'm not quite sure where you're heading with this.” Mr. Jung speaks, a mere confusion crossing over his wrinkled features.

“It means a lot of students would visit the place after their classes. BADA is known as one high-end bar that holds a specific reputation among Koreans, I think having and expanding the business there would create a different reputation. A lot of young students spend their time drinking with their friends after classes, not only on Fridays but every day. If the bar is going to be packed with students, it's presumable it'll lost it's elegance and seriousness between our permanent customers.” you explain, making sure you've read all your points that you've taken while Namjoon was speaking.

Mr. Jung nods, before he gives Namjoon the space to speak and explain himself. Good, now it's between you and this dickhead.

“I don't think it necessarily has to be a bad decision. It'd mean BADA would always be full of customers. Plus, young students are adults. They're free to drink alcohol, it's not like they're illegal.” he says, staring right back at you with coldness in his eyes.

From the corner of your eyes, you see some of your colleagues nodding along Namjoon's words, agreeing with him. Idiots.

His words or tone isn't necessarily rude, not giving a hint of irritation that's aimed at you, but you can see it. The look in his eyes, the same one he had when he heard you bad-mouthing him in front of Jungkook. But you're quick to react, Namjoon can't catch you off guard.

“They're adults, but look at others bars that are filled with students drinking and being loud, causing a lot of fights. BADA is full with or without student customers and is financially stable enough, actually better than that. The incomes have been raised by ten percent just this month, BADA is doing very good, even best since its inception.”

“I must say, that's interesting point of view, Ms. Y/L/N.” Mr. Jung says, your eyes brightening at his small praise as you smile with gratefulness.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cold facade breaking as you glance at your boss. “I think the reputation and image of BADA is more important than money. Especially when it's doing great on its own, with or without student customers.” you explain yourself, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you try to read his face.

He scratches his chin in thought, before he straightens himself. “I think Ms. Y/L/N might be right. It's important to realize what we're trying to achieve here. The point of expanding BADA isn't money, but it's bringing it to people from that district. The bar has currently three locations, Busan, Daegu and Seoul and I think Namjoon's idea is great. It'd bring a new audience, however, our reputation and image is more important just like Ms. Y/L/N said.” he explains, a triumph feeling bursting in your chest as you can't help but proudly smile.

Jungkook gives you a thumbs up, a very brief one, but you see it and silently giggle at him. To be acknowledged by Mr. Jung and him saying he agrees with you, barely happens. He always praises Namjoon, barely pointing any errors to him, if any. It feels fresh to hear and say him something that's not just a pure agreement and astonishment.

“Our meeting is over. Thank you everyone for being a part of this, I'll see you next Friday. It's your turn, Mr. Jeon, right?” he asks, already standing up as he looks at your friend.

“Yes, sir.” he says him, bowing at him before Mr. Jung nods and leaves the room.

It's silent in the room, everyone scurrying away for their lunch break. Not even Jungkook waits for you, too busy thinking about his turn next week. You know how stressed he has been about it.

As you're packing your own stuff, which only consists of your notepad and pen, you glance at Namjoon who's sporting a frown as he packs his own stuff. You kind of feel bad, seeing displeasure written on his usually soft features, but it's all gone when he looks up and glares at you.

“Good presentation.” you speak, mentally cursing at yourself when it sounds like an attack, rather than a provocative comment. Either way, you're acting like an asshole right now, but thinking about all those times he did the same thing to you, this is nothing compared of what he has done to you.

This is the first time your facts are valid, Mr. Jung himself agreed with you, but this is the first time he's not on Namjoon's side. It should feel triumphal, but rather than to feel that, you don't feel anything. Yes, you're happy Mr. Jung finally acknowledged you and listened to your explanation with interest, but that's all. You thought you'd feel phenomenal once you see the look of displeasure on Namjoon's face, but you feel empty instead.

“Weren't you waiting for this? Listening to me so attentively, so you could do the thing you just did.” he chuckles, but it's dark and accusative, and it makes you feel attacked for some reason.

You've never heard him speaking to you this way, it was always just cold hatred glances. But you won't let him get to you.

“Nah, I just knew you're going to fuck up some day.” you tell him lightly, a little bit of edge and attitude behind your words as you innocently smile at him. You're just being bitch, you know that, but you won't let him affect you.

“You know what? Fuck you.” he spits, closing his laptop with a loud thud as you stare at him dumbfounded before you frown.

Did he just tell you 'fuck you'?

“No, fuck you,” you spit back. “You should put up with the fact that you're not perfect, and you can make mistakes. Or the fact that everyone is so far up your ass, and not everyone has to agree with whatever bullshit you're spitting out.” you bark, gripping your notepad tightly to your chest as you see his frown deepening with each word.

“I've never said I'm perfect, just because you're not capable of doing your job right and I was here cleaning up your mess, doesn't mean I'm perfect. I'm simply doing my job, you should learn to do that.” he barks back, his tone filled with venom as he furiously brushes his long fingers through his blond locks.

“Cleaning up my mess?” you exclaim, on the edge of yelling as you widen your eyes in fury. “Interrupting my presentations isn't cleaning up my mess! It's fucking rude of you to do that every time! At least, I've waited for you to finish. Maybe you should learn to do that, you prick.” you throw your notepad and pen back onto the desk.

“It's not my fault you don't know what fucking help means,” he spits, “You do the same fucking mistake every time and instead of asking for an advice to someone, you're just too confident. You're attacking me for doing a good job while you're fucking up!” he suddenly yells, your mouth falling onto the floor as you walk towards him.

“Oh, so what? Should I go to you and ask for an advice?” you mock him, laughing at that idea.

“You could, I'd help you.” he says simply, catching you off guard before you shake it off and scoff.

“Yeah, of course you would.”

“It's not my fault you're just fucking jealous of my success. Using my education as a reason for my success is just plain dumb.” he says through his clenched teeth, looking at you with so much intensity that it makes you shiver underneath his gaze.

He's talking about that time he overheard your outburst that was only meant for Jungkook's ears. You're sure of it, because you've never brought it up again. It was only that time when you spoke it out loud and he heard it.

“It happened a year ago, and you weren't supposed to hear that.” you mumble, embarrassed by the fact he brought it up.

“It doesn't mean it didn't hurt hearing you saying that.” he scoffs, causing you to open your mouth in shock.

“Stop playing the victim!” you snap, hating how guilty he makes you feel. “You might've wrapped everyone around your finger, but I'm not one of them.”

“I don't have anyone wrapped around my finger. That's just how people treat you when you're a decent human being and not a bitch.” he remarks, causing you to gasp in disbelief.

“Did you just call me--”

“Bitch? Yeah, I did.” he cuts you off, pissing you off even more since he likes to do that.

This fucking motherfucker--

You're launching yourself at him, hands trying to hit his firm chest, but before you can even make a contact with him, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you. You're trashing in his hold, cursing falling out of your mouth as he grunts at you.

“Calm the fuck down, you freak.” he scolds you, shaking with you once you start to kick his leg.

“How dare you to call me--”

He pushes you against the edge of the desk, your ass digging into the glass as you stare into his dark eyes. He's holding you, his fingers securely wrapped around your thin wrists, not too tightly to hurt but enough to stop your attack.

Your chests heaves with each breath you take, the fire in your eyes slowly dying once you calm down. You're reminded by your close proximity, enough to notice how soft his skin looks up this close or the small mole underneath his bottom lip. There's no denying he holds such a charisma, not just in his looks but the way he talks professionally. You envy that and you hate him for that. Even his stupid cologne smells so nice, another great quality you appreciate in men.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he chuckles, smirking at your quiet state but it lasts only for a few seconds, before you're trying to pry your hands off his grip.

“You fucking asshole!” you trash again, hating how close he is.

You need some space, he's distracting you from your fury.

“I'm done with you acting like a bitch.” he spits, his breath hitting your face as he comes near your face.

“What are you going to do about it?” you speak up before you can think it through, mentally cursing from the way it sounded.

You sound desperate, cunning and provocative – enough for him to chuckle when he notices the glint in your eyes.

“Is that a challenge?” he frowns, studying your features to make sure you're hinting at the same thing.

He lets go off your hands, his fingers slowly sliding off as he stares right into your eyes, mirroring the fire in yours. But he doesn't move, about to take a step back when you scoff at him. That's all it takes for him to growl, before he grabs your face and kisses you roughly. You're surprised, your fingers wrapping around his wrists as you hold him. His lips are surprisingly soft, despite of the way he moves them, before he bites onto your lower lip.

“Ow!” you exclaim, voice muffled by his lips as he chuckles.

“That's what you get for that big mouth of yours.” he comments, before he starts kissing you all over again.

It's fast and rough, but you don't move away. You sit on the desk, legs wrapped around his thighs before you pull him closer.

You can't believe you're kissing him, the man that's been irritating you for so many years and become your enemy of your daily life, but you can't stop. So much anger has been built up inside of you and now it bursts again.

“I hate. You.” you tell him between the kisses, making sure to tag his hair which causes him to growl.

“Why are you kissing me then?” he smirks, causing you to roll your eyes.

His fingers trace your leg, making you to give him more space as he raises a brow at you. Before you can react with another roll of your eyes, your fingers fumble with his belt and zip. He does the same, hiking your skirt up before you glance at the clock on the wall. You've got thirty minutes before everyone's back.

Most of your colleagues go out for a lunch, so there's not a high possibility of you getting caught, but there is still some. However, you can't bring yourself to dwell on that simple fact, not when Namjoon's fingers caresses your clothed pussy with a light hum.

You moan, embarrassed how quick of a reaction he got from you. By the smug smirk, he thinks the exact same thing but it's all washed up when you touch him the same way through his black boxer briefs. You pull it down with his help, pulling out his hardened cock and feeling it for the first time. It feels heavy in your hands, the soft velvety skin takes you by surprise as you give him a few testing pumps. He clenches his jaw, biting onto his lower lip as he denies to give you a reaction. His fingers work at the same time, sliding away your lace panties before he starts to play with your clit.

Your head bumps into his shoulder, insides clenching at the simple feeling of his finger that's coated with your wetness. He doesn't comment on it, inserting his finger inside of you in quick movement, causing you to gasp.

“Fuck.” you curse, smearing his pre-cum over his head before you pump him again.

He adds another finger, fucking you with his two long digits with his rings cold against your walls. “Namjoon.” you gasp when he scissors his fingers, slightly penetrating your hole.

“Hmm, not being a bitch now, huh?” he comments, enjoying the way you squirm against him in pure ecstasy, trying to reach your high.

It feels so fucking good, yet it's not enough to make you cum. He knows it, judging by the way you meet his thrusts, desperately pleading for more.

“I-I hate you so much.” you breathe into his neck, inhaling his scent as you squeeze his cock harder to prove your point, but he only chuckles.

“I hate you too,” he says simply, slapping your hand off his cock as he pulls out his fingers out of you.

You watch him wrapping them around his cock, his fingers coated with your arousal as you take the time to admire his cock. It's long, curved in the right direction with red head that pleads for attention. Gulping at the hot sight, you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

With his free hand, he goes under your skirt, hand disappearing underneath the plain white material before he's sliding your panties off. A cold air hits your exposed pussy, a new rush of lust washing over your body as you stare into his dark eyes. He doesn't budge, looking at you with the same intensity. This is the longest time you've ever stared at each other, and it's only now that you realize that he's even hotter and more handsome than you previously thought so. Just thinking about him standing behind desk with firm look on his face and clenched jaw in concentration is making you all hot.

“Now be a good girl and spread those nice legs for me. I'm gonna show you what you're doing to me.” he commands, and embarrassingly, you're quick to follow his order as you expose your wet and swollen pussy for him.

His eyes drop down between your legs, taking a glance at your pussy before you're being pulled to the edge of the desk, standing closer now.

“Show me.” you breathe out, not caring how pathetic you must look and sound right now.

His eyes flicker to yours, his features relaxing before he's frowning again. “Are you taking pills?” he asks, pumping his cock.

You're greedy, you want him inside of you so much that you quickly nod, telling him that indeed, you're taking a birth control. He nods before he doesn't waste a second, guiding himself to your hole before he slowly enters you. The both of you gasp at the feeling, your heels digging into his plump ass as he bottoms out.

He doesn't give you a second to adjust, pulling out before he slams back into you. Your eyes roll at the back of your head, back arching at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls in quick and rough way. He holds your hips, making sure you're not sliding away from him as he fucks into you with so much aggression that makes your breath hitch. Wanting to be closer to him you pull up yourself, hands disappearing under his dark blue button up, before you grab his back for support. The feeling of his naked skin makes you clench around him, causing him to growl for the first time. You messily kiss him, groaning when he bites your lower lip before he moves to your neck. He sucks your skin there while fucking you, his balls meeting your ass with each thrust. The shameless sounds of skin hitting skin fills the conference room.

You should be embarrassed that you're having sex in here, but it drives you crazy and closer to the edge.

The desk starts to shake underneath your body, caused by Namjoon's rigid thrusts as you gasp into his ear, moaning his name over and over again. You're yelping when you feel a sting pain in the crook of your neck from Namjoon's teeth, before he licks his mark.

“Ow! That hurts!” you complain, pain long forgotten when you feel his lips pecking you there.

You've never experienced someone being so rough, yet affectionate during sex and you can't believe it's Namjoon of all people.

“You feel it? That's how you make me feel.” he growls into your ear, before he tears off your blouse, some of the buttons hitting the floor with soft clicks.

He pulls down your bra cup, exposing your perky breast as he dives down, taking your nipple into his mouth. The feeling is incredible, your walls clenching even tighter around his cock. The sting pain comes back when he softly bites your nipple, more careful than he was with your neck before he starts sucking it again.

“Fuck, I hate you.” you spit, hating him for how good he makes you feel.

He pulls away, crashing your lips together and it's the final step for you, taking you over the edge as you cum around him. He fucks you through it, a deep growls leaving his plump lips as he tries to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck me, Namjoon,” you tell him, ignoring the feeling of oversensitiveness as you scratch his back with your nails. “Fill me up.” you moan when you hear your name leaving his lips.

It takes him a few more thrusts before he's spilling into you, halting his thrusts as he comes off his high. You feel him filling you up, causing you to clench around him at the incredible feeling of being full, and it makes him hiss. He leans his forehead against yours, the sheer coat of sweat decorating your skin as he slowly pulls out. You feel his cum already dripping out of you, but he catches it with his fingers before he's stuffing it back.

Gasping, he silences you with his lips, this time softly meeting yours before he pulls away. To your disappointment, he's taking a step back as you watch him tucking his soft cock back into his slacks, buckling his belt and tucking his crinkled button up into it. He picks up your panties off floor, sliding them up your legs as you sheepishly put them on, material catching his cum right away, dampening it.

Just when you're about to leave and hide yourself for the rest of the day, he turns to you with unreadable eyes before he licks his lips. “Are you up for lunch?” he asks, his tone light a complete opposite from just minutes ago.

It's not just the fact he fucked you, that your heart jumps at his offer, but the realization from his words hits you. You've hurt him and you were both at wrong. You both said some hurtful things to each other, probably things you didn't even mean. He nervously lifts up the corners of his lips, a cute small dimple popping out of his cheek that makes your heart warm and features relax even more.

Either way, you both have tons to say to each other, including an apology.

“Yeah, lunch sounds cool.” you tell him, smiling down at floor, too shy to meet his eyes that are filled with hidden adoration and amusement.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon drabble #namjoon x reader #bts au #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon au #namjoon fanfic #rm smut

966 notes · View notes

littlegiantposts · 3 years

Text

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look)

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist.

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo.

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so.

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n.

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.)

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence.

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused.

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going.

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness.

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up.

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n.

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling.

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch.

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water.

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child.

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open.

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA.

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw.

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall.

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected.

She was crying.

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them.

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.”

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door.

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda.

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout.

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door.

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his.

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance.

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back.

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross.

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki.

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided.

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

#bnha shoto #todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #mha x you #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #mha angst #bnha imagines

72 notes · View notes

hopeisour4letteredword · 3 years

Text

with friends like these

Summary: Apollo gets his wisdom teeth out, and Clay babysits.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

"Apollo, buddy. Buddy. You gotta lie back down."

Apollo blinks owlishly at Clay, swaying in place in the middle of the kitchen. God, Clay would feel better if he at least had the sense to lean against the counter. "But I want coffee."

"No coffee for you," Clay says, forcing himself to be stern despite the dreading anticipation of the way Apollo's expression falls, comically sad. AJ always looks younger than he is, as a big brave twenty-year-old, but the sad little pout while he's out of his mind on painkillers, cheeks swollen from surgery? He looks like he's twelve. Adorable. Clay feels bad for him, he really does—he got his own wisdom teeth out last year and he remembers how much it sucked—but the little baby pout just makes him want to smile. "You'll wind yourself up something good, sunshine."

"It's not that much caffeine," Apollo tries to say, even as he lets Clay catch him by the arm and pull him, stumbling, out of the kitchenette. "An' it would make me feel more awake."

"You don't need to feel more awake, you need to rest."

"But I've got stuff to do," Apollo says, mournfully. Clay manages to wrangle him back over to the couch and nudge him back down onto the cushions. Apollo makes doe eyes up at him while Clay grabs the nearest blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "I gotta work on my readings—"

"It's winter break, you don't have readings."

"But next semester."

"You don't have any advance readings yet. You checked and told me so before the surgery."

"I have to stay ahead," Apollo says. His eyelids droop. "I gotta be good at my classes so I can be a good lawyer."

"You're gonna be a great lawyer. But you aren't a lawyer yet, and you don't have any classes right now, so just take it easy, okay?"

Apollo opens his eyes again to peer back up at Clay. "My mouth hurts."

"I know. Sorry, buddy. Not time for more painkillers yet. You want me to grab you the ice pack again? Get the rest of your shake?"

Apollo nods, still looking glum. Clay dutifully returns to the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, which he wraps in a kitchen towel, and the rest of Apollo's post-surgery chocolate shake out of the fridge. When he gets back out to the living room, Apollo has toppled over to be horizontal on the couch. Clay puts the necessities down on the coffee table and scoops Apollo's legs up onto the couch so he isn't twisted all funny. The last thing the poor thing needs is unnecessary strain making him uncomfortable. He ruffles Apollo's hair. Apollo leans into the touch. Aww.

"Anything else I can grab you?"

"Can you sit with me? I wanna watch you play games."

"Aw, sure. What do you wanna watch?"

"I dunno. Anything's fine."

"Let's play some Odyssey, then. I'll go grab the Switch."

Apollo brightens, just like Clay thought he would. He always did like playing on Clay's Switch when they were kids. Even for Clay, it's hard not to be transported back to sleepovers, hushed giggles as they tried not to tip Clay's dad off that they were staying up late while they played games under the covers, whenever he picks it back up to replay something. He knows the memories are even more precious to Apollo, who spent so much of his adolescence struggling through foster system bullshit.

"Yeah!"

"Okay, sit tight."

When Clay comes back, Apollo has propped himself up enough to try to drink more of his shake. It dribbles out of his mouth.

"Oh, man. You got a little, uh—"

Apollo looks frustrated. "Did I miss again? I still can't feel my lower lip."

"Yeah, no, it's, um—you're fine, just let me—" Clay grabs a tissue off the box on the coffee table and wipes Apollo's face. "There you go."

"Thanks," Apollo says. He smiles, wobbly but true. "You're the best."

"No problem, sunshine," Clay says, smiling. He moves around the room, getting the Switch hooked up to the port so it will show up on the TV, before he lifts Apollo's upper body out of the way so he can slide onto the couch with him. Apollo's head ends up propped on his thigh. He helps Apollo adjust himself so there's no pressure on his cheeks, and he can easily hold the ice packs in place while seeing the screen. "Here we go."

"Let's-a go," Apollo says, in a terrible Mario impression. Clay barks out a laugh and starts the game.

"Goofball."

They don't get very far into the game before Clay is pretty sure Apollo starts to doze beside him. His breathing evens out and his weight goes limp. That's fine. He's warm and cozy, and Clay likes being someone he feels comfortable enough with to sleep around. If this is helping him feel a little better while he's in pain, Clay's satisfied. It's not like it's a hardship to sit here and play video games and be his pillow.

But the fact that he thinks Apollo's mostly asleep does mean Clay almost gets the shit scared out of him when Apollo says, suddenly, "Clay."

"Jesus!" Clay fumbles a jump and Mario goes plummeting to his doom. Oops.

"Yes, hello, hi. I thought you were napping, buddy. What's up?"

"You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Yeah? Of course."

"You know?" Apollo rolls so he's mostly on his back, looking up at Clay with big, sad doe eyes again. Clay stares back down at him, befuddled. Of course he knows. "Cause I—I know I'm kinda bitchy sometimes—"

"Aw, Apollo—"

"An' I can't help you with your smart science stuff a lot—"

"That's not—"

"An' I get really anxious and you have to babysit me sometimes an' I yell at you for it—"

"Apollo—"

"But you're really important to me and it would suck if you didn't know just 'cause I'm stupid."

"You aren't stupid," Clay says. He ruffles Apollo's hair again. Apollo's eyes slide closed, lips tugging back into the miserable little pout. "I know I'm your best friend. You're plenty nice to me. Just 'cause you're a little prickly when you're stressed doesn't mean you don't make it obvious that you care about people."

Apollo sniffles. Oh, no. Case in point, though.

"And you don't have to worry about not helping me with science stuff," Clay adds. "I know I'm not that helpful with your law stuff, either. You're way better at helping me review than I am at helping you review."

At least that makes Apollo smile a little. "Jus' easier to read formulas off notecards than legal definitions."

"You can say that again." Clay will take astrophysics over civil law any day. "Besides, you're the best hype-man I could hope for. Who else is gonna get me super pumped to go to space even though it scares the piss out of you?"

"It's so high up," Apollo whines, making Clay cackle. He never thinks about fear of heights as an issue with spaceflight until Apollo mentions it. "An' there's the whole vacuum and no air and you're just going in a tin can—"

"Don't talk about my girl Hattie like that, she's perfect."

"An' even Mr. Starbuck is nervous about it."

"And you help Sol get psyched for it too," Clay says. He pats Apollo gently on the shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm talking about."

Apollo sighs.

"I know we're best friends, sunshine," Clay adds, more gently. "Come on. You think I would agree to live with you if I didn't know you liked me? I bet you could pull some real passive-aggressive roommate pranks if you wanted to."

Apollo huffs out a tiny laugh. "Maybe."

"There we go. We're fine, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Say it with me. We're fine."

"We're fine."

"You're Apollo Justice and you're fine."

"I'm fine!"

"That's my boy." Mario has fallen asleep standing up on-screen. Clay is considering whether or not he should keep playing or encourage Apollo to go take a real nap when Apollo shifts beside him. Clay lifts his arms out of the way on instinct, holding the controller aloft, when Apollo braces himself on shaky arms to turn and crawl the rest of the way over to plop himself down in Clay's lap. "Wh-oa, buddy. Hi there. You want cuddles?"

"Yeah," Apollo mumbles. He drops his head onto Clay's shoulder. Clay carefully shifts his weight and settles down against the back of the couch, letting it take both of their weight. He doesn't think of Apollo as a big guy, because he's not, but geez. A whole adult human does kind of weigh a lot. Good thing Clay's been beefing up for his training. "Are you at the moon yet?"

"Nope. Only at the gardens. It hasn't been that long."

"You're gonna get to the moon someday," Apollo says, with loopy certainty. Clay almost bites down on a grin before he remembers that Apollo can't see him anymore and he can smile as much as he wants, safe from scrutiny. "You're gonna be a kickass astronaut."

"Aw, thanks, bud."

"You're really smart. And good at solving problems."

"Flatterer," Clay says, grin spreading wider. God, he wishes he'd thought to grab his phone and start recording this. Yeah, he does know he's Apollo's best friend and Apollo loves him and all that, but he sure as hell doesn't get this mushy often. It's really cute.

"You deserve it. You're the best friend in the world, Clay," Apollo declares, and promptly passes out on Clay's shoulder.

---

"Anyway," Clay finishes. He knocks back the rest of his mocha. "That's what AJ was like when he got his wisdom teeth out, so like I said. Don't be too embarrassed about it."

Klavier is laughing so hard he's almost crying, a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle the sound of it. Apollo's in the kitchen right now, cooking the three of them brunch. Hopefully the sizzle of frying eggs and sausage covers the sound of Clay's indiscretions out in the living room. Clay's dead meat if it doesn't.

"He never mentioned," Klavier manages to get out, when he finally gets himself under control. "How cute."

"It was pretty great," Clay says, fondly. "But please don't tell him I told you about that. I don't want to die before I make it to the moon, and he will actually kill me for realsies."

"Your secret is safe with me." Klavier props his chin on his hand, grinning. "Has he ever gotten quite so affectionate other times?"

"If he's drunk enough, yeah."

"I'll have to keep it in mind, then."

"S'why I told you," Clay says. He considers the sly, affectionate curl of Klavier's smile for a second before he adds, "But don't bully him too hard afterwards, or you will lose drunk Apollo privileges. Only moderate mortification allowed."

"Would he be taking the privileges away or would you?"

Clay lets his own smile go sharper. He likes Klavier just fine, and he doesn't really believe he'd be that mean to Apollo, but... well, Apollo's Clay's best friend, too. He has obligations if Apollo's boyfriend is an asshole to him. "Fuck around and find out."

"Fair enough, Herr Astronaut," Klavier says. There's a clatter of plates in the kitchen as the sizzling dies down.

"Food's ready!" Apollo hollers. Clay casts Klavier a glance; Klavier mimes zipping his lips, winking. They both push away from the table to wander into the kitchen. Apollo bustles around fixing a plate of food, a pile of hashbrowns and sausage and eggs. Klavier creeps up behind him and puts his hands over Apollo's hips. Apollo startles, almost knocking him away. His cheeks go pink.

"What do you think you're doing? Clay's literally right there."

"Don't mind me," Clay says, cheerfully. He loves having ammunition to give Apollo hell over later.

"I think he already has an inkling that we're dating, Liebling," Klavier murmurs. He leans down to kiss the top of Apollo's head. Apollo gently elbows him in the gut, pushing Klavier away as his cheeks go even redder.

"Yeah, and he's already insufferable enough about it without you hanging off me in front of him. Come on, back off."

Klavier obligingly steps back. He and Clay begin to fix their own plates. Hovering nearby, Apollo asks, suspiciously, "What were you two gossiping about out there, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing," Clay says. He smiles sweetly when Apollo narrows his eyes at him. "By the way, AJ?"

"What?"

"You're the best friend in the world."

#klapollo #clay terran #apollo justice #klavier gavin #ace attorney #not art #long post

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beerecordings · 3 years

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Okay, here is part three of the latest Marvin's Cage story. Find the whole story so far here Let me know if you enjoy! Thanks for reading. Tws for mentions of possible cannibalism, mentions of past torture, panic attacks, and imprionsment . Light through the side of his box. “Marvin, Marvin,” he mouths, soundless, tears in his eyes. “Brother, brother.” Marvin does not come. “Jameson,” the soft voice is calling. “JJ. We won't hurt you, I promise."

No. This is not right, not right! This has never happened! He clutches at his hair and bites down on the collar of his shirt, tears racing down his face. They need to go away! They're not supposed to be here! They're not supposed to know! Marvin will be so, so, so angry! He can't do it again, can't go back to being alone alone alone alone. His skin so untouched it hurts, so he scratches at it, at his lonely skin, his lonely bones. Marvin will not touch him hold him call him little brother. He can't go back. Makes his brain so numb and then so crazy. Can't can't can't. “Jamie, breathe, Jamie – ” “Give him space, dude! He's scared of us. Jameson... just... he's really just – ” “Marvin did this to him!” He flinches at the loudness of the voice, biting his collar til he feels thread tear. No, no, no. This is Marvin's worst nightmare. His brothers know about him, and they're angry at Marvin. Angry at Marvin who was just protecting all of them, who takes care of him and loves him. This can't be happening. They need to understand. How does he make them understand? How does he even try to explain when his heart is beating so hard it hurts all the way up to his throat and he can't stop crying? This is why you can never fight Anti off, sneer an old pair of hands in his head. You're the most pathetic little creature ever to walk across the earth. Of course Marvin locked us away. Him and Anti are both right. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he signs desperately. “Brother, brother, M! Please! I want M!” “It's been so fucking long since I took that BSL course. I'm the worst brother.” “Don't start, Jackie, shit. I don't think I ever bothered trying to learn for more than, like, two Youtube videos. Schneep would know. He learned it in about three days and he doesn't forget things.” “Brother – that was brother, I remember! Yeah, JJ, we're your brothers, dude. I mean, if you want us to be. Can you just – please, breathe.” No, they don't understand. These are not JJ's brothers. These are Marvin's brothers. It's a term of endearment more than anything technical: the relationship does not transfer. Marvin always made that very clear and JJ understands. Chase and Schneep and Jackie are not dangerous like he is. Chase and Schneep and Jackie do not have to live in cages, and they get to come find Marvin whenever they want, and they can have things like their own money and lots of friends. They can walk around the city at their leisure. See the sky. Have jobs. Walk around stores and talk to girls and make friends. They pick out their own food and books and toys. They're nice people who have never killed anyone or stabbed each other or made Marvin so upset that he burned their faces on accident and left them alone for days at a time. Schneep is even a doctor who saves lives, and Jackie is a real-life superhero, and Chase has babies who love him. Of course Marvin had to keep them safe from JJ. He's just grateful that Marvin never listened to him when he would beg to get out. Marvin even took care of him when he could have so easily left him to rot like he deserves. “JJ, JJ, please. You can trust us. Didn't you say you remembered me? Please, please, I'm begging you – come here.” Yes, of course he remembers Jackie – remembers the warm voice trying to calm him for hours, and the gloved hand in his own, and the presence watching over him as he drifted close to sleep, the safe and loving presence. How could he forget it? Some days, it is all he thinks about. But it's not something he can have. No, he won't come out. He won't risk making Marvin angry, and he certainly won't let Marvin's brothers get hurt because of him. He will stay here alone like he has to. He is a good boy like Anti told him, like Marvin told him. He is good and he is not hurting anyone ever again. He is staying right here. “Fine, I'll go to him,” comes a vehement voice, and then someone is pushing at the broken wood around his door. Jameson sucks in a wheezing scream and darts behind the curtain over his little bathroom, shoving himself between the wall and the toilet

and squeezing himself into as tight a ball as he can manage around his little stuffed dog, the first present Marvin ever brought him. Jackie can't come in here – neither of them can! Anti will kill them! “Jackie, he's freaking out, stop, stop!” There's a low howl of frustration, but no one comes any closer. His box falls quiet again with nothing but soft murmuring from Marvin's brothers as JJ sobs, biting at deep scars in his palms, the result of being possessed on repeat by a demon with a passionate love of any kind of blade. His hands raise the knife – no hilt. The blade goes down, goes into his palms, goes down, goes into his palms. Goes into her chest. He can hear her screaming. Can hear himself laughing. There's blood in his mouth that isn't his. His birds are already picking at her as she suffocates around the silver of the knife. The bugs are creeping onto her flesh and crawling up his shirt. No, no, no! If Marvin would come – if Marvin would quiet the memories like he always does – But Marvin does not come. Marvin does not come find him. Alone, alone, alone. “JJ, JJ,” they are calling to him, begging at him, but this is not something he can let himself have. He'd rather die right here. No, no, no, no. He is not going anywhere. Ever. His little stuffed dog is licking at his face. He closes his eyes and rubs its fur til the panic fades. His good dog, good boy. He drifts in his head. He's playing with his dog in the yard. Marvin is on the porch reading. The sun is warm. His dog licks his face. He is staying right here... everything is okay... there you go, JJ. There you go. There's a good little brother. You know how much I hate to see you cry. Cut it out, okay? I don't want to hear that anymore. Be good and I'll come back tomorrow. Be good and stay right here. Yeah, he's good. He's good. And when he's good, Marvin comes back again. Marvin will come back. . The soft scrape of cardboard on wood wakes him. He sits in the darkness behind his privacy curtain. Things are quiet again. “I wish he would just...” “I know. But you can't stay here all day.” “Well, neither can he!” “Shhh, keep your voice low. He obviously does, I mean...” The voices devolve back into incomprehensibility, too soft for him to understand. He wipes at his ruddy, weary face and sniffs, curled up against the side of the toilet. He's a little germ freak, as Marvin says, but he doesn't have to worry. He cleans everything every morning so Marvin will not think he's messy. The decorations are always dusted and straightened. He wipes the toilet and his little mirror down, and the sink too, so it's clean when Marvin comes in to shave him on Wednesdays. He isn't allowed to have a razor in here – Anti will try to cut him up again – but Marvin takes care of him anyway. The bathroom smells like their shaving cream and the lemon scent of his cleaners, stacked neatly on the shelves in his back-left corner next to his laundry: Marvin's clothes and some old t-shirts and sweatpants. He isn't allowed to wear anything that isn't Marvin's. Marvin has to be the one to put it through the wash, and if his brothers saw it, they would ask why he was washing things that did not belong to anyone in the house. JJ lets out a tired sigh, a little soothed by the quiet and the reminiscing. Marvin takes care of him. Still, he wants to know what that sound was. When Jackie and Chase's distant voices stay distant, he squeezes his dog for courage and creeps out from behind the curtain, blinking at the light of his sun lamp. The leaves of his plants and the lead in the drawings on the walls gleams quietly in the yellow glow. His place, his things, his presents from Marvin and pictures of Marvin and his shared space with Marvin. Maybe when he comes to see him, they can lie down on the mattress and have a nap, or play some games, or watch pictures on Marvin's magic screen together. Yeah, he feels better. Yeah, there's my tough guy. Stop crying, JJ, I mean it. He gets to his feet and sneaks over to the sill of his box where Marvin sometimes leaves him

things. There's a little pad of paper on his shelf, the sort of book you might use to make grocery lists or notes to pin up on the fridge. He pulls it towards himself, looking right and left for one of Marvin's brothers to leap out at him, but nothing happens. Hi, JJ,reads the first page, in messy, crooked handwriting. My name's Chase (I'm the one in the grey shirt) and Jackie is the one in the red hoodie. He doesn't know what a hoodie is. He glances down the way Marvin usually comes from and can still hear them talking. I'm sorry if we scared you. We're still figuring out what's going on. You don't have to get close to us if you don't want to (but I promise we won't hurt you if you do). I thought it would be easier for you to have a pen and some paper. Is there anything you need? Or anything we can do to show you we are on your side? Do you remember us? I also left some food by your door. It's perfectly safe, I promise. I will eat some with you if you want. Please don't be scared. We aren't with Marvin right now, or Anti. We are not going to let anyone hurt you. If there is anything we can do to help please tell us. I hope you do remember us a little bit. If you don't, though, we want to say hi! Maybe you can write me back? The paper is all for you. - Chase There are some smiley faces and even a little drawing of the plate of food on the paper. JJ glances over at his door. A dish with rice and meat is tucked on the plate alongside fat slices of oranges, a neat line of bright green cucumbers with ranch drizzled on, and a big sweet-looking roll with pecans. His mouth waters. He listens for Marvin's brothers one more time, and when they're still far away, he steps over to pick up the plate and brings it back to his mattress, sitting down and eating with relish. It's hot and fresh and home-made, better than he remembers food tasting. Most of the stuff he gets is take-out from a restaurant or leftovers. Not that he minds! It's just a lot of tasty food. He's eating faster than he means to, scooping the rice up with his plastic silverware and tearing the soft bread of the roll between his teeth. Meat between his teeth – hot flesh, red blood – Anti's smile is crimson and beaming, his own eyes are wild with delight – cannibal – No, no. He hugs himself for a few minutes and goes through the breathing exercises Marvin taught him. He's okay. He does not eat all the beef, but he eats everything else, scooping up the leftover ranch with his spoon and licking his fingers clean of the orange juice and sticky frosting from the roll. His stomach hurts with how full he is. It's a good feeling. “Jameson?” He jerks upright, pupils blown. A figure leaps back from his window. “Sorry! I just – I was just checking if you wrote me back or – sorry, I'll give you some space...” He backs away again. Jameson grabs at his chest, shuddering. Sudden voices in his box only ever mean Anti until today. And Anti – Anti hurts him. Even when they're playing. He doesn't think Anti ever learned how not to hurt someone. He thinks that's why he plays like that – testing his limits. Interested in human suffering as a primary characteristic. He plays with the edge of Chase's note, trying to think. He hasn't talked to anyone but Anti and Marvin in so long. What would Anti say? Pet, look, he's almost as pretty a present as you were. Oooh, but already a scar in his head. Who wants a scar on him I did not put there? Hm. Still pretty though. He looks like my master. Tell him to come over here and snuggle with us, Jameson. I will wrap my hands around his throat and see if he chokes the same way Jack does. Jameson chews on the end of his pencil, sighing. They need to stay away. What would Marvin say? Who, Chase? He's my baby brother. I guess I was always pretty attached to him. I was all jealous when Jack added Schneep, and I do snap at Jackie a little when he ticks me off. Chase, though, he's my – he's my little brother, you know? He's a special person. Well, anyway, it was him you stabbed the night I had to lock you up. Within about five

minutes of finding you, you stabbed one of us. I started to imagine what would happen if we just let you roam free and... you get it, right? Why I had to? Yes. Of course he does. This is what he needs to express. He clears his throat and sets his pencil shakily to paper. Dear Chase, Thank you for my dinner. It was very tasty. You are a good cook. I do remember a little of that night you all found me, but not much. I was rather unwell. I am dearly sorry for stabbing you and I hope your shoulder has healed well. I should not like to stab you again, but I do not always have a choice. Unfortunately, despite Marvin's best efforts to find a way to help, I still fall victim to possession against my will. Please leave me alone so I do not stab you or your brothers. If you will get Marvin for me he will know how to fix the box. I am not bothered by your presence but the thought of what might happen to you is very alarming. It would be in the best interest of you and your family to kindly exit this place and leave me to my own devices. There is no need to be concerned about anyone hurting me, though I appreciate your worry on my behalf. Thank you for your time and understanding, and, again, for the food. Sincerely, Jameson Jackson There. That's okay, isn't it? Maybe? P.S. I would like to see Marvin very much. Is he all right? Thank you. Okay, there. Then he will not have to wonder. Hopefully everything's okay and Chase can go bring Marvin for him. Then things will go back to normal. Things will go back to... To normal. Normal is good. Normal is... His box is quiet. The light gleams on the leaves and the lead. There are scratchmarks in the wood where he has tried to claw his way out during breakdowns. He closes his eyes. Things will go back to normal. He can never leave. He lets himself drift off in his mind again, walking in circles around his box with his eyes closed. He's on a beach with his dog and a big family... little kids come running up to him and he picks them up and plays with them in the ocean, yanking them back from the waves or ducking them under the water while they shriek in delight. The sun is so warm and the sand is hot between his toes. Marvin is suntanning on the beach while Chase and Jackie play in the sand beside him, and everyone is laughing. His box is dead quiet. Not even the wind to keep him company. Alone, alone, alone. . “I'll kill him, I'll kill him.” “Jackie. Breathing.” “I'll – oh, he – I'll tear him to pieces, look at this, he – I'll kill him, I'll destroy him, how could he...?” “Jackie. Jackie.” Chase is so tired he doesn't even get to his feet to try and calm Jackie down. He's slumped across the couch of the living room with Queenie on his stomach, kneading her claws into his t-shirt and purring. Her belly's all swollen with kittens, but instead of becoming more reclusive like a normal cat mother, she has decided she wants to be on top of someone twenty-four hours a day. Chase scratches her ears and sighs. “How could he do this?” groans Jackie, for perhaps the hundredth time today. Chase still doesn't have an answer. Jackie is clutching JJ's note in his hands tightly enough that he's definitely torn a hole or two in it. “He made him think he has to be – he has to be in this box. He – he won't come out to me. He won't come out to me.” Chase reaches for Jackie's jacket, catching his sleeve, and tugs his brother down onto the couch beside him. “Jackie. This note – it could be good news.” Jackie looks at him like he's finally lost it. “Hear me out! I know it's... not great that he seems to think he really does have to stay in there. But Jackie, look, he's not scared of Marvin! What if we jumped to conclusions about how this went down?” “He locked my little brother in a box,” says Jackie flatly. “But what if JJ asked him to do that?” Jackie blinks and looks down at the smudged note. “He... does seem to think he's dangerous.” “And, well, he is, isn't he?” “Don't say that.” “Jackie, it's just facts. Er, not JJ, I mean. Anti is the dangerous one, but he uses the

little man like a weapon. That's not his fault, but it's the truth. He did stab me that night.” “Anti stabbed you!” “Yes. But he used JJ's hands. Jackie, is it so wild to think that maybe JJ was just so scared by the things Anti has made him do that he actually asked Marvin to help him protect us from him?” Jackie's eyes water. He shakes his head. Chase sighs and touches his brother's shoulder. “It still wasn't right of Marvin to do what he did. He definitely should have talked to all of us about it and not left us thinking something terrible had happened to him. But if JJ really came to you and begged you to keep him away from us – well, maybe, as a temporary solution, you might take him somewhere safe and secluded, and take care of him yourself, right? Maybe not a little locked box, but... somewhere. It's not – Jackie, it's not unthinkable.” Jackie just shakes his head, staring down at that note. “What's wrong?” asks Chase softly. “Wanted to make him feel safe,” croaks Jackie. “I should have – if I had made him feel safe, he wouldn't have thought he needed to be locked away. And Marvin – yeah, should have told me. Even if JJ did beg. My baby brother.” After a long day, the tears are finally coming dripping down Jackie's face. “I know, man,” whispers Chase. Jackie falls against his shoulder. Chase wraps his arm around him. Queenie nudges her way into their laps and sits contentedly down, purring like a little motorboat. “Maybe JJ and Marvin really were just working together to protect us,” mumbles Jackie. “Maybe he did take good care of him. If he had told us, maybe it is... thinkable.” “I shouldn't have told Marvin we weren't brothers anymore.” Chase rubs at his face. “I was too quick to think it was the worst scenario.” “No, it's not your fault,” replies Jackie softly. “It's his for not telling us, so it really did look like the worst scenario – and my fault, for exploding on him instead of listening. I should have been calmer.” “I honestly think you were surprisingly restrained for the situation,” says Chase, a little amused. “If it were true that he just locked JJ up against you will, you oughta have kicked his ass.” Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. I guess. I don't know, though. There's just... there's something really off about that box. The kids' toys and the – I don't know. I get a really bad feeling. It's hard to describe.” Chase hums and nods. “Well, what we need to do is talk to JJ more, right?” Jackie perks up, glancing over at him. “Right. Figure all this out.” Chase smiles at him. The weight on his chest is so much lighter than it was a few hours ago. This – this makes so much more sense than what they thought before. Of course it was unimaginable that Marvin would lock JJ up like a prisoner against his will and abandon him in there, unloved. What he did was still wrong, but this alternative is so much lighter than that one. Maybe they can still fix this. Marvin could come back with Schneep, and once they were all on the same page Marvin would apologize for leaving them out of the loop. Together, they'll all be able to find a better way to keep JJ safe from Anti. Then they can all be together like they're supposed to be. Yeah. He can see it now. Marvin and Schneep will come back home, and JJ will come out of the box, and everything will be wonderful. Just a few hours ago, that seemed so impossible. “You're crying again,” says Jackie, touching his face. “Chase?” “No, it's okay,” chuckles Chase, wiping at his face. Happy tears. He's so relieved it hurts in his chest. For a few hours there, he really thought Marvin might have done something that cruel. But not his brother. Not his Marvin. No wonder it didn't make sense. It wasn't true. He should have known Schneep was right. Schneep is always right. Chase chuckles, shaking his head. “Just a rollercoaster day, that's all.” “No fucking kidding. I'm going to go write back to JJ. Do you want to come with?” “No, no, I think I'll get started on dinner.” Chase has already moved on to their reunion meal in his head. He'll cook

something Marvin loves and make JJ so much good food they can't even eat it all. Bread, ice cream, pasta, casserole... there's so many options. Maybe he'll just make everything. His heart is light again. It's going to be okay. “Okay, then,” says Jackie, heading back towards the mirror. “I'll be in there with him if you need me.” “Got it,” Chase replies, getting up to head to the kitchen. “Oh, um – Chase?” “Yeah?” He turns back towards his brother. Jackie smiles at him in the evening light. “I'm really glad you're here.” Chase smiles back. “Me too,” he says.

Things are going to be different. But surely, surely - they have to turn out okay. Just this once.

. Dear JJ, I don't really know how to right to you. This is Jackie. I'm glad you remember me a little. I'm your older brother. You don't want to come out of the box? When did that start? Was it your idea to be locked up like that? I guess I can see how you would think you could be dangerous. Trust me, I've encounterred Anti enough times to get it but if you give me a chance I promise I will keep you safe. JJ there has to be a better way then you being locked up like that! I don't even care if you and Marvin thought it was a good idea it's terrible. You do not have to be a prisoner you are my brother. I really want you to come stay with me. What can I do to get you out of there? I will do anything to make you feel safe, JJ. I promise I will keep you safe. Marvin is okay. He's just staying at another house right now. He knows I am talking to you. I'm worried about how he might have treated you, can we talk some more before you talk to him? Tell me about how he treats you. I want you to be able to make your own choice. Don't worry about him, okay? Who decided you should be in that box? I want you to be here with me. I really want you to be here with me and I promise I will keep you safe. Maybe we can talk face-to-face? Even though I'm bad at sign languge. I have wanted to see you for a really long time. I love you. I don't care if you hid from me or if Anti has used you, that doesn't matter now, none of us ever blamed you for Chase's shoulder. I've been looking for you, JJ. I've been looking for you this whole time. I thought about you every day. I would have looked forever if I had to. Every day of my life. If you think you have to stay in that box, please tell me why. I need to understand. I won't lose you again. You won't lose me too. I'm your big brother and I really want you to be here. I promise I will keep you safe. JB . Dear Jackie, Please, just go. You weren't supposed to know. I will be in trouble and I will hurt you. It is my fault. I'm not like you. I can't fight Anti. I'm not what you think I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you looked. He said maybe he would tell you I was dead, but he knew you would not stop looking unless there was a body, so he couldn't even though he wanted to. He loves you. He didn't want you to be in pain. But he didn't know how to stop it either. He cried over it so much. Maybe now that you know, you won't have to worry about me anymore, and you and Marvin can be happy again. I'm happy here. Marvin has taken such good care of me. He treats me very well. Please go home to your brothers and don't think about me. I'm sorry I made you all so sad for so long. Sincerely, JJ There are patches of wetness on the pages. . JJ, who decided you should be in that box? Tell me. . This time, there is no answer. Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from the corner of the cage, and all he wants is to go in there with him. But when he moves forward, JJ flinches and flees back to the bathroom, and all Jackie can do is sink down beside the cage, hold his head in his hands, and try not to think about the words he wanted to tell you I was dead. . Chase: Schneep you ok Schneep: Yeah. We're at Stacy's Chase: Did you tell her Schneep: Kind of. Still not sure really what happened Chase: Us either dude. Marvin say anything more? It sounds like maybe he and JJ both decided he should be locked up or whatever Schneep: He is all freaked out still. I gave him something to calm him down and he fell asleep. I am worried though. He insists the Jameson must be kept in the box. I think Anti is pulling strings Chase: I don't have any idea what's happening at this point Schneep: How is he? Chase: Very shy. Scared of us. He also thinks he has to stay in the box Schneep: Healthy? Chase: He kind of hides. Won't let us in to see him Schneep: I come by tomorrow and check on him Chase: Ok, sounds good. Tell me if anything changes? Schneep: Yes I will Chase: And say hi to the kids for me. Maybe not a good idea for me to have them this weekend after all Schneep: No worries. We will figure everything

out, my friend. Take care of JJ for me Chase: You take care of Marvin. I think it's going to turn out alright. Schneep: Yes, it will. See you tomorrow, love you Chase: Love you . There's blood in his mouth. JJ circles his cage, using a rag to clean the walls and wipe down the boxes and sink. When it's clean, he sits down again, reaching for his violin. There's blood in his mouth. He gets up again and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. He sits down and rubs at his face, exhausted. There's blood in his mouth. No. The box is clean. He's not going to clean it again. There's blood in his throat. He covers his face in his hands. Stop imagining it, JJ. Distract yourself. His dog licking at his face, warm sand between his toes, Marvin is holding him – Blood in his throat. In his teeth. He picks flesh out from between his molars. Copper tang against his tongue. He feels the weight of the blood settle in his stomach. He bites into flesh. Jameson. I am not going to listen to this story again. That's fucked. Anti isn't here. Stop crying, okay? The corpse is going cold beneath his fingers. Anti is laughing. The blade swirls around in his hands. He is torn between hoping Anti will stop possessing him so he can have even a minute alone in his own head and praying that Anti never leaves again, because when he does, that is when JJ becomes the victim of his curiosity. There's blood in his mouth. JJ gets up and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. “Jameson,” murmurs Jackie. “Are you okay?” He's standing just outside the box, looking at him. JJ avoids his gaze, scrubbing the clean right wall with vigor. Jackie doesn't seem to want to hurt him. He supposes that makes sense. It's not Jackie JJ should worry about – it's what Anti might do to Jackie that's concerning. He wishes Marvin's big brother would leave. “Can you show me your stuffed animals?” asks Jackie. “Or your puppets? Why do you have all those?” JJ pauses, chewing on his nails as he glance at his animals, arranged neatly on his mattress. The finger puppets are in their box by the barred window. They're just for fun. For distraction. He knows each of them intimately. All the puppets have names and families and jobs and aspirations. All the animals have their own place in the world in his head. It's just a game. It's just a game he plays for hours at a time. He tells the same stories on repeat. The important part is that he knows they're not real people right now. Marvin was so relieved. There's blood in his mouth. He circles his cage. Cleans the walls and boxes and sink. It's already clean. He knows it's already clean. “Do you play the violin?” JJ pauses again, eyes flickering over to Jackie. Yes, he does. For hours a day. “Would you show me?” asks Jackie gently. JJ hovers. He's not sure he should. But he never gets to show anyone except Marvin and the toys. It would be nice. He never got to show anyone Marvin's birthday song. It's not going to hurt Jackie. It's just his music. He picks the violin tentatively up. Sets it back down again. Jackie is looking at him uncertainly from the window, smiling a faint, confused smile. Fuck's sake, he's – he's weird, isn't he? Not Jackie – JJ. He turns away from Marvin's brother, biting at his nails again. It's been so long since he interacted with anyone other than Marvin and Anti. What must he look like to Jackie? He's treating him like he's so fragile. Maybe he is. But this is how he lives. This is how he has to live. He used to fight. Does Jackie know that? Does Jackie know that there were days that he would come out of possession kicking and striking at Anti, spitting at him and writhing before Anti could stuff him back into whatever hiding place he had found to contain him? Does Jackie know that JJ used to curse at Marvin and demand to be let go? That he eventually crumpled beneath the isolation and the monotony and just collapsed in on himself, sitting mindless for days at a time no matter how much Marvin begged at him to

get up? Does Jackie know that he hates this? There are tears dripping onto the violin set beneath his chin. He can't think like this. This is where he has to stay. He can't go. He can't leave. There is blood in his mouth. This is what he has to do. He can't tell on Marvin, can't tell Jackie that Marvin dragged him into this box and locked him up while he cried. This is what he deserves because he's done so many bad things and he will do so many more if he is released. Oh, there is blood in his mouth. He can't get out. He has to be a good boy – he has to stay – he has to – “Major freak-out,” he signs to himself. This is what Marvin calls a major freak-out. Yeah. Okay. “Have to stay calm, JJ, you can't come out of your cage. “Come hold me, Marvin, please! “If you calm down I'll come in there. Okay? “Please can I come out just for a few minutes? Oh, God, I want to see a priest. Are you going to keep me here my whole life? I'll die here! I'm going to die here? I can't take it anymore! I can't take it! Oh, God, I want to see the sky, I want to hear birds, oh, God, our father, who art in Heaven – “JJ, be good. Penguin, stop that. You know you can't come out. So be calm. I'm working on finding a solution. “But you never do, you never do!” “JJ.” And now the voice does not sound like Marvin's. JJ isn't sure why. He keeps signing to himself, circling his cage, chewing on his collar. He talks to Marvin. Marvin isn't there, but he knows what he will say. Yes, Marvin is here. They're talking and hugging each other, yes, Marvin is making it better. Marvin isn't here. “Jameson, hey. Jamie, can you look at me? Jamie, can I come in there with you?” Yes, yes, he wants that! He hates to be alone for freak-outs. They last hours and sometimes he slams his head against the wall so hard the light hurts his eyes for days. Sometimes he scratches at the wood til his nails split. Sometimes he clings to Anti and begs him to take him away from this place, because even the torture and the killing would be better than sitting in this same – fucking – spot – for the rest of his miserable existence. He hates to be alone. Alone, alone, alone. “Please, please,” he begs. “Please, please.” “Okay, I'm coming, Jamie, I'm coming.” Marvin doesn't call him Jamie, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later, there are arms around him. There's no torture quite like the touch-starvation, and JJ is someone who knows torture. When Marvin started touching him and hugging him and sitting with him, it changed everything. And the most wonderful part about it is how those months of his skin crawling and his brain going numb and foggy with a bizarre and visceral sort of insanity as he rubbed at his own skin and rocked and day-dreamed about being touched til he could hallucinate it – they all just fade into the background when someone puts their arms around him. He latches on like a cat in a tree. Octopuses himself around their body. And in return – joy of joy, he is being squeezed back, squished against their body and rocked. He is scooped all the way off his feet, making him giggle. He buries his head in their shoulder and shakes, pressed so tightly together it's a little hard to breathe. “My little brother, my little brother,” someone is singing. “My JJ. Here you are. I have you back again, I have you.” He's grabbed by the waist and spun in a circle before he's drawn back to their chest. He laughs weakly and hears them laughing back. “Here you are. Chase was right. This is all that matters. You are everything that matters.” Kisses along the side of his head. Hands on his back and cupping his head. He's rocked back and forth, back and forth. Steady and strong. Gloved hands. A red hood. The smell of rain and sweat and coconut on the jacket. And that feeling – that feeling of safety... Yeah. He remembers. How could he forget? When this was what he dreamed about for so long? Jackie is holding him. His awareness comes back to him in pieces as he comes down from the second or third panic attack of the day. Jackie has crashed down onto the

mattress with him. He's being held like a little kid, but Jackie doesn't seem bothered by his weight or his neediness. Jackie just clings to him. Clings to him as tight as he's clinging to Jackie. JJ cries quietly as he comes back to himself. Jackie wipes at his face and hums to him, nonsense music in the air. “My JJ, my JJ.” He doesn't seem bothered by the crying either. “I missed you, JJ.” His voice breaks. Jackie coughs and kisses the side of his head one more time, his voice fading away. “Have to go,” signs JJ, crying into his chest. “Have to go, before he hurts you!” “I'm so sorry, James, I never really got to practice with the sign language, I should have worked harder...” “Go, go!” He points to the door. “Go away!” Jackie shakes his head at him. JJ should push him away, but he just – he just can't. Marvin will kill him for this. Anti will kill Jackie for this! “Nothing's going to hurt you anymore,” whispers Jackie. “Never, you're never leaving my sight again. I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again.” And he wants it to be true so badly it hurts. He just clings to Jackie, shaking. “Oh! He let you get in there with him!” A new voice in the expanse of the mirrors. JJ feels Jackie nod. “Do you guys... do you want some space?” “Yeah, please,” whispers Jackie. “Maybe he'll let you come in too in a minute, but if we could just... just get a minute...” “Just text me if you need anything.” And it's just him and Jackie in the quiet of his box again. “Nothing matters but this,” sings Jackie, brushing at his hair. “My baby brother. I love you.” Love, love, love. He closes his eyes and holds to Jackie, and just for one moment of weakness, he lets himself have this.

#marvin's cage

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Golden Cage - Chapter.11

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She’s a spoiled little princess — at least that’s what people say. Her father is the King of all Kings, the man who everyone fears. Then, along comes Dean Winchester, the one guy who manages to see into her soul, but — — is Dean really who he says he is?

Chapter Warnings: Teasing, violence, angst

WC: 5607

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s in Dean’s bedroom, getting herself ready while Dean talks on the phone. It rang after he came out of the shower and he walked into the living room. She doesn’t know if it’s to give her privacy or if he doesn’t want her to hear. Either way, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it because she has to get herself ready for a meeting. The first outing that she’s allowed to have in the name of the family.

Her clothes are all laid out on the bed and while she applies moisturizer to her body. She puts the outfits together in her mind, thinking about what would suit her best, what would be the best outfit that’ll show that she means it. An outfit that shows that she’s a woman who can keep up with the men. Nothing too revealing, she guesses, but something fierce enough to make them gasp. Her mind’s setting on the pencil leather skirt, now she just has to see what blouse would fit best with her skirt and the shoes she’s packed.

Dean’s still talking outside and she hears that he’s trying to keep his voice down. She slips into her panties. The fabric of the little garment rubs a little too hard against her sensitive clit. She thinks about ditching them later, wonders if it would matter. Nobody will know if she’s wearing panties or not, right? Also, there’s chafing from Dean’s scruff that doesn’t support the argument of her having to wear panties. She’s sensitive all over, feels like her nipples are raw from his sucking, too. God, that man will definitely be the death of her, but it’s not like she minds.

Everything is super sensitive now because they did it again in the shower. Dean’s shower is not as spacious as the shower at her home, but they made it fit and he fucked her standing up against the wall, pressing her back into the tiles and hooked one arm below her knees, lifting her leg up while he rubbed at her clit.

Blood rushes to her head again when she thinks about it.

So now, she’s standing here, and debates between two blouses. One’s white with long flowing arms and the other one’s red, sleeveless, with a bow around her neck.

She can’t possibly make up her mind because she likes them both, so she decides to ask Dean. He knows exactly where they are going, he would know what would fit, wouldn’t he?

Still in only her panties, she clutches the blouses to her chest to hide that little modesty she still possesses, even though she knows that Dean’s seen it all already anyway, and he probably likes her best without any clothes on at all. Knows it, because he had stated it a couple of times, and it always makes her flustered all over.

Dean’s standing at the dining table and her cheeks get hot again thinking about what they’ve done on there. He’s not dressed either, a towel hanging dangerously low around his hips, making him look absolutely delicious with damp ruffled up hair. The scars on his body have a certain edge to them, but the freckles round the edges up. He’s devine and that’s not really fair. He has no business being so perfect.

Biting on her bottom lip, she approaches him, but he’s not paying her attention. He’s looking down to the hand that fidgets around the back of a chair. It’s as if he’s a little nervous, a little on edge.

“Hey,” She hisses and Dean frowns, but still he doesn’t look.

“Dean!” She tries again and he only holds a forefinger up at her to shush her while he concentrates on listening to the conversation. He still doesn’t look up at her. It’s as if he tries to avoid her at any cost.

Rolling her eyes, she tries to think of a way to get his attention, grinning when she gets a flash of an idea.

Y/N drops the blouses to the floor and shows him her boobs, “Hey!” She hisses again, louder, while she squeezes them together and jiggles them around.

Well, she gets his attention now, but he’s looking less than amused. Dean frowns, and waves at her to stop.

Then she hears it.

“Yes, sir, goodbye.”

Fuck.

He’s talking to her dad.

And she just flashed him.

Dean hangs up and sets the phone onto the table and exhales deeply before he rubs a hand over his face.

He turns to her after and speaks. His voice is loud and he sounds annoyed, “Jesus fucking Christ, princess!”

Oh, so now she’s back to being princess. She guesses that when he’s upset with her, she’s forever going to be princess to him.

“You can’t just show me your tits when I talk to your father! Fuck, now every time I talk to him I’ll see them in my mind!” He growls low.

She’s smirking and tries not to laugh because honestly, that is a little funny?

Dean begs to differ though, because he strolls closer. One hand goes below her chin, fingers cupping it and turns it upwards to meet his eyes while his other hand cups around one of her tits, palms kneading, fingers pinching at her nipple, she squirms.

“What is it that couldn’t possibly wait until I’m finished with a call?”

“I don’t know what to wear,” She mumbles and Dean groans out in frustration before he bends down to kiss her.

“You know,” He says when he parts, his hands leaving her completely to pick up her blouses from the floor, “One day, you’re going to kill me with your bratty behavior.”

She grins as he hands the blouse to her, “You like it, though?”

At least she hopes he does. Like, he knew what he had gotten himself into when it all started, so he really can’t blame her for acting the way she does.

He rolls his eyes briefly, but it’s all fake because he’s grinning now when he bends down to peck her lips, “Love it.”

Smiling, she holds up the blouses and lifts her eyebrows.

“White.” He nods toward the white blouse, “Although I would love to see the red on you, but I think white would suit better tonight. Makes you look more like someone to take seriously and not some eye candy hanging off someone’s arm.”

“Thanks,” She says and thinks that’s what she likes about Dean. He says things like it is, doesn’t sugarcoat it and he’s not just babbling to shut her up.

“Go get dressed before I can’t hold myself back from taking you all over again.” He smacks her ass on his way to the bathroom.

“Who said I would mind that?” Y/N calls after him and Dean chuckles.

She almost threw him off his balance with her jiggly tits. It’s not really fair. And really, he hopes that her tits won’t be the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees Azazel’s caller ID.

The boss had informed him that Benny would be at the meeting too and that rubs him the wrong way. What’s so fucking important for Benny to be there anyway? Azazel made it clear that Benny’s not allowed to interfere with Dean’s business, but Dean will only believe it when he sees it.

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip as they drive towards Atlantic City.

It’s a two hour drive and they made it halfway when she turned in her seat. The leather underneath her ass makes a loud sound. That’s right, she’s wearing leather. He almost choked on his own drool when he saw it.

Dean gets weak for leather. Especially for her in leather. The skirts so tight it accentuates her round ass. He couldn’t help but spank down on it a couple of times while they walked down the stairs from his apartment. Every time she would stop and stare at him with a rolling of her eyes and every time, Dean would giggle like an idiot.

It’s good between them. They’re relaxed. He likes that. Would like to keep it that way, but he knows that it’s just only the start of a hardship he might have to go through. She might have to go through.

After they laid in his bed for a while, with her in his arms, he stroked her back, with neither of them speaking. Sometimes there’s just nothing to say and he liked that the most. The comfortable silence. There were no sorry excuses, no thoughts of having made a mistake, no small talk just to get over the awkwardness of the situation after the lust has worn out. And that was the moment that he thought about the future for the first time. That he could just grab her and run away. Nobody would know, nobody would find them. It would be good, he just knows it. It’s only — Dean doesn’t know if she would want it. If she was even ready to leave everything behind, and the last thing he wants to be is selfish. But yeah, maybe he would do it all for her, leave everything behind and screw up the Bureau for a woman. Which is really a stupid thing to do, but it would probably be worth it.

They drive past a big advertisement for Roman Empire. It’s the biggest and apparently the best casino in Atlantic City. Of course, it is. The Roman’s wouldn’t settle for second best.

“We’re going to meet the Roman’s?” She asks curiously, and Dean can hear it in her tone of voice that she’s not really keen on meeting them.

“Yeah, they have some proposals.”

“They’re dicks.” She mumbles under her breath.

Dean has to chuckle at that, because she’s not wrong. The Roman’s are the number one mob family in Atlantic City. They are the equivalent to the Lehne’s. They own every casino, hell, they even own New Jersey. Their wealth is immense.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, “You’ve met them?”

“Yeah, at gatherings where Dad allowed me to attend. Dick is a real big dick. I heard he moved to California, set up his own thing there. His father is a sleazeball.”

“I know,” Dean reaches over, takes her hand in his, “Just, don’t let your emotions overrule your head, okay? We’re there to make deals.”

“Ugh,” She groans with an eye roll.

“That’s the spirit,” He smirks and takes her hand, places it to his lips to kiss it quickly.

She sighs, “What if he touches me?”

“Who?”

“Zachariah, Dick. Both of them.”

Frowning, Dean looks over to her, “Have they done that before?”

“Yeah,”

Dean’s grip tightens around her hand. Jesus, he feels like punching something all of a sudden.

His voice is deep, and he growls a little when he speaks again, “Does your father know that they have touched you inappropriately?”

“He was right there.”

Fucking Christ, now he really wants to shoot someone. His heart absolutely aches for what she had to go through growing up in this family. Growing up in a world reigned by men. It’s not a great environment for a girl to grow up.

“I’ll put them in their place if they do,” Dean says. It’s the only thing he can say, really. He can’t erase the past, but he can make sure that he’s here in the present.

“What if you aren’t there?”

Dean catches a glimpse of her little pout when the street light illuminates up the inside of the car.

“I’ll always be beside you.” He assures her, because yeah, after finding out that piece of information, he doesn’t really have the urge to leave her unattended at all.

“Promise?”

He places another kiss on the back of her hand, “Promise.”

They arrive and Dean gets out of the car, walks around to open up the passenger side for her, and holds out a hand to help her out.

“You know they have valet parking, right?” She asks before she takes his hand.

Dean shrugs, “I feel better knowing where my car is and can reach it at all times.”

She only frowns a little as she gets out.

“Remember, no weapons.” He says as she’s standing before him.

She waves her clutch around, “Duh, how can I fit that into my clutch?”

“Y/N,” Dean looks at her sternly. She thinks he’s joking but really, he’s not. It’s the rule. No fucking weapons when they come in peace. The Lehni’s have the same rule and it’s only fair that they play by the Roman’s rule, even though Dean hates the rule himself. He looks at her again, cocks one eyebrow because she’s still looking at him like she’s innocent. Dean hates that look because she’s not. She’s not innocent when she grins up at him while she licks at his asshole, she’s not innocent when she moans for him to fuck her harder. No, she’s not and he shouldn’t get weak, “Put your gun back. Now.”

Rolling her eyes back dramatically, she lets out a loud sigh. Dean has to hold back a chuckle. He watches her lift up her leather skirt, watches her take out her gun from her holster, and turns around to put it into the glove compartment of his car.

“How did you know?” She whines when she turns back to him, bracing her arms across her chest and fucking pouts.

“I’m just good like that,” He grins cockily before he weaves an arm around her waist to help steady her in her heels as he guides her towards the entrance of the casino.

They are led into the back of the casino, where there’s a strip club. Dean has since taken his arms from around her waist because it’s back to acting like they aren’t more than what they are. It pains him a little. Irritates him a whole lot. And from the way her body’s drawn to him, leaving him no space, he can see that she’s not entirely happy about it either.

He leans closer, nose brushing against her temple, “Just this, okay? I’m right here.”

She seems to nod. Dean can’t really see it because she’s following the employee who’s walking ahead and he waits a couple of seconds, walking a safe distance after her.

The door to the strip club opens and loud music spills out of it. The room is dark, neon lights everywhere. It’s a tad over the top, he thinks. A little cheap, like who the hell uses neon lights nowadays anyway? It makes him feel like he’s in a dingy strip club and not a high-end one.

Dean seems to be the only one who thinks it’s tacky because the club is packed. There are girls dancing on stage, girls grinding on men’s lap and he notices Y/N stalling by the door. She doesn’t look comfortable at all.

He reaches out, touches her arm, “I’m going first,” He whispers, “Follow me,”

She does, follows him and catches up to him pretty quickly. They are walking beside each other now and she takes glances left and right while they still follow the employee around.

“You've been to a strip club before?” She asks underneath her breath.

“Yeah,” He chuckles.

“Huh,”

“Not lately, though.” Dean tries to talk himself out of his mistake, but he knows that he’ll probably get an earful when they’re alone.

“Huh,”

She crosses her arms over her chest while they walk and he thinks it’s adorable how she’s jealous. It makes him a little proud to know that he’s not the only one feeling the things he does.

The employee leads them along across the club, and there were a couple of girls who gave him the eye, some of them make themselves known by bumping into him. Dean tries his best not to look. Tries to fucking stay focused and walk on because he’s here to do his job and well, maybe it’s also because he doesn’t want to upset her. It’s not like he’s interested anyway. Not when the girl he actually wants sitting on his lap is her.

Y/N only rolls her eyes as she sees him trailing along, and Dean smirks, which earned him another eye roll. He thinks it’s cute. She’d deny.

They were led onto the second floor where there was a group of chairs sitting around a table. They spot Benny and his two right-hand men Ed and Nick. Nick has risen up in his ranks, as Dean can see. What Dean didn’t account for was to see Azazel sitting with them, his two bodyguards standing behind him. Women in skimpy bikinis are serving them drinks and there’s one sitting on Nick’s lap.

“You didn’t tell me they’d all be here,” Y/N whispers through her gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear.

“I didn’t know about your dad, okay?”

“But you knew about Benny?”

“Yeah, from the phone call which you flashed me your fucking tits.” Dean hisses while they walk over slowly, so they can have this exchange of words.

They both try to smirk while not letting people see that they are talking to each other.

“Oh, please,” She chuckles, “You love them.”

“I’d love them more if I wasn’t associating them with your dad,” He says and nods at the waitress who just walked past him.

“I wish you would have told me at least about Benny.”

“Why? Would that have changed your mind?”

“No, but I would have worn fucking panties.”

Dean stops mid-stride and she looks back at him with a grin. He watches her walk up to her people, greeting them and taking a seat next to her father.

He wished that she would have kept that fucking detail to herself, though. Now he won’t be able to think of anything else than her sitting there with nothing underneath her fucking leather skirt. And she’s probably still dripping his cum while she looks her father straight in his eyes.

This is pure torture and he’s been tested, he knows.

This fucking girl.

Y/N greets her dad with a kiss to his cheek and sits down, only nodding to the other men around.

“I think you should leave,” She says to the girl in Nick’s lap, even before Dean sits down and the stripper looks at her in bewilderment. She smiles politely, “You heard me.”

“I’ll tell her to leave whenever I want,” Nick snarls.

“And I’m telling her to leave now. It’s not a fucking party, Nick. We’re here for business.” She says firmly, stands by her point that nobody should listen in. They can’t be careful enough with possible snitches around.

Dean sits down next to her, rights his suit jacket and nods towards Nick, “You heard the lady, man. Ditch the stripper,”

Nick gasps and looks over to Benny for some back up but Benny ignores him completely. Reluctantly, he pushes the stripper away and the girl stands up and struts away angrily.

“Since when does she call the shots around here— Ow!” Nick yelps out and everyone knows that Benny kicked him under the table.

God, her dad really works with an immature bunch of men, doesn’t he?

Her dad leans towards her, whispering in her ear and she tunes out all the other ramblings she hears from Nick, “You’re doing good. It’s a whole new side I see. I like it. Did Dean explain to you and teach you what tonight’s all about?”

“Yes, he did.” She tries to not think about other things he taught her about, the things that make her whimper in pleasure.

“Good,” Her dad nods.

Five minutes passed until a big bulky bodyguard walks in and calls for them. Zachariah is ready to meet.

They have been led through another door where they step into an elevator. The eight of them, plus the bodyguard, stand close, chest to chest and she’s glad Nick and his filthy hands were far away from her, glad that it’s Dean who’s next to her, not so glad that her dad is on her other side of her.

Y/N feels something warm between her legs, feels Dean’s cum trickling out thickly, has to squint her eyes and frowns a little. Of course Dean notices, looking down at her and raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything, can’t possibly talk when everyone can hear her.

When they arrive, everyone scrambles to get out of the confined space pretty quickly, but Dean stays.

He looks down with worried eyes, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, “Your cum dripped out. I might need some tissues.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters under his breath and shakes his head as he steps out of the elevator.

She can’t help but grin as she catches up with the lot.

Goddamnit, he’s really being tested right now. How can he sit still and concentrate when he knows she fucking leaks him while sitting next to her fucking father?

She’s going to be the death of him, Dean just knows it.

They arrive at a heavy door, which is held up by two other big bulky men and they step in, where Zachariah is already waiting, sitting at a big round table with his son. The table only fits six, so Azazel takes a seat, beckons for his daughter and Dean. Benny takes a seat too and Dean still hasn’t figured out why the hell the dude’s here.

“Do the two losers need to be here?” Zachariah asks into the round, pointing his chin towards Ed and Nick and all eyes are on Benny.

“Uh, no, they don’t.” The man says and Dean has to hold himself back not to speak that Benny too, doesn’t have any business to be here.

“Then they should leave. Go to the club. My treat.” Zachariah says with a sleazy grin.

Y/N was right when she said that he’s a sleazeball. Dean has to smirk a little thinking back on how she said it.

The two men’s faces light up and they immediately disappear, muttering something about a lapdance while Benny shakes his head. Benny’s probably questioning his entourage right now. A bunch of unprofessionals is what they are.

“Why are you here?” Zachariah asks and he stares at Y/N, his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Dean balls his hands into fists. God, he would just love to punch that fucker for looking at her like that.

“She’s dipping her toes into the business, Zach,” Azazel says, and maybe Dean’s mistaken, but he can hear something in the tone of his voice. Something that says that Azazel’s a little proud.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be doing this,” Dick, who hasn’t said a word until now says, smirking a little, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Spending daddy’s cash or organizing some catering for parties?”

Dean’s lips are already parted, he already wanted to put Dick into place, but Y/N cuts him off.

“I actually do have better things to do, yes. But you wanted a meeting and that’s why we’re here. Can’t choose where you’re born into, can you, Dick? I bet you have better things to do in California as well.”

She says it with a calm voice, but he knows that she’s not. Her hands are shaking a little and he knows that she wanted to say so much more. She wanted to run her mouth, put Dick into place, but she chose to stay professional. He absolutely admires her. Dean lays a hand on her thigh under the table, some kind of a reassurance that he’s here. A way of telling her that she’s doing great so far.

Dick looks at her father, a frown on his face and Zach just clears his throat, “Right, so shall we? We want to get this over with before we go to the next part which is more relaxing to me.”

Dean doesn’t even know that there’s a next part, but he agrees that he too, wants to get this over with.

“We’ve been in contact with Winchester before,” Zach nods at Dean and Dean nods back, “We have not one but three shipments on their way over from China. It’s the biggest deal we’ve ever made with the Chinese. All we need are some old warehouses where we can set up labs.”

“You don’t have enough of this in New Jersey?” Azazel asks and Dean knows why. Azazel is keen on dealing but not keen on cooking the drugs himself.

Zach laughs heartily and elbows his son who starts to laugh too, “No we don’t. Not for that amount of goods,”

“How many are we talking about?” It’s Benny who asks.

“About sixty to seventy warehouses.”

Azazel whistles under his breath, “That’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot of money we can make.” Dick chimes in.

The King clicks his tongue and exhales loudly, “What’s our cut?”

“We will provide the infrastructure, provide the cooks and the people manning the warehouse. We will pay you rent.” Dick says, and adds, “But we know that you don’t like to have your fingers deep in cooking so we’ll reward you for renting it out to us. 30% of the profit.”

“That’s how much?” It’s Y/N who asks. Dean’s a little proud, a little stunned too that she followed the conversation. Well, he knows that she’s not dumb but they don’t. Everyone is looking at her now and notice that she’s still here.

“Roughly about $600k a month,” Zach says proudly.

“So, say, we let you rent seventy warehouses and you make $30k a month per warehouse. That would mean you make over $2m a month and will give us our $600k cut,” Y/N calculates it in her head, “How can you be so sure that you’re going to make that much money?”

“Girl can do some math, congratulations!” Zach shouts out in mockery and really, Dean has to fucking hold himself back, “We know this because it’s not the first time we’ve cooked, sweetheart.”

“And why only 30% then? We have more risks, people are disposable, warehouses aren’t. If they find a warehouse, it will somehow lead back to us. We have more risk than you do, I’d think we need to raise the stake.” She drums on her notepad with her ballpoint pen while she cocks an eyebrow at Zach and Dick.

Christ, Dean finds that side of her highly attractive. It turns him on when she has them by the balls.

“What do you suggest?” Dick looks at her with a smug grin on his face.

“50%,”

“What?” Zach spits and Dick has to calm his father down, laying a hand on Zach’s arm.

“What’s your guarantee for us?” Dick asks as he feels his dad calming down enough.

She looks into the round and Dean just knows that she has something in mind. He can see from the glint in her eyes, sees it in how her lips curve up into a smile.

Tonight before they left, she wanted to look at the files and she sat there for an hour, looking through what little information Dean had, and when she finished, she started to smile and that’s when Dean knew that she wanted to lead the deal and he knew that he’d gladly let her. It’s also for her to show her dad that she’s capable, that maybe Azazel doesn’t have to tighten the leash around her as much as he had. That maybe, when this deal is a success, she’ll get to have more rights, gets to have her own car, gets to have a little freedom. Dean fully supports it.

Dean hands her the documents with a nod and she smiles at him. Her dad cocks an eyebrow while Benny frowns. They have no idea what’s going to hit them. Well, he doesn’t really know either, because she wouldn’t tell him, but he trusts her.

Y/N rolls out the map of the city where she had circled warehouses they own in red circles. She stands up and braces her hands on the table, “As you can see, we own 120 warehouses and counting.”

“Did you know we own that much?” Azazel whispers to Dean behind her back and he shrugs.

He did, Azazel doesn’t have to know it, though.

They sit in silence when Y/N continues, “My idea is to move production around. Never stay in one place for too long. That will be less suspicious for the neighborhood of the warehouses. That way, the chance of getting busted is as good as zero.”

“But that’s a lot of moving infrastructure around.” Dick states.

“Would you rather you get busted?” Dean chimes in, he just had to, “When they get us, they’ll get you.”

“No, of course not.”

“Here’s my offer,” Y/N says and sits down, folds her arms on the table while she looks Zachariah straight in the eye, “120 warehouses to do as you please. Only seventy will be occupied at the same time, not more, not less. 50% of your profit.”

They are all holding their breath as they watch Zach and Dick turn in their chairs to whisper something into each other's ears. Dean reaches over under the table again, squeezes her thighs and she looks at him, grins a cocky grin. Jesus, maybe he just fell in love a little more than he already had.

Azazel leans back in his chair and over to his daughter, “You did your homework, princess. I’m proud.”

Her face beams.

It’s adorable really how she longs to be recognized. How she wished to be heard all those years. It’s really sad too, and there’s the thing Dean feels in his gut again that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to protect her at all cost and show her that she’s worth fucking everything.

“Okay,” Zach says after clearing his throat, “Congratulations, Y/N, you got yourself a deal there. Our lawyers will be in contact.”

Her smile grows wide, and he can see that she’s all giddy. Dean really wants to take her into his arms but he knows that it’s uncalled for. That he shouldn’t act like he’s closer to her than what he is.

Azazel nods his approval, smiling a little and it’s creepy. Dean had never seen the man smile before.

“Great, onto the next part, the weapon deal, are you involved in that too?” Zach asks, and Dean knew that he missed something because he wasn’t involved either.

“Nobody knows, because we just only talked about it briefly last time, Zach,” Azazel says.

“Okay, then please everyone who’s not involved may leave the room.” Zachariah announces and Dean can only look at her.

She has to leave and she knows it, even though he doesn’t want her to, but it’s not a made deal and she has no clue, she can’t stay, not when her dad is here, too. Subtly, she nods at him, as if she understands.

“You can go to the club, Y/N, my treat!” Zach says, it’s more mockery than anything else and Dean really really wants to punch that fucking dude square in the face.

The meeting is over quicker than he thought it would be. It’s just talks that bore him to death with weapon deals that aren’t even fixed yet. Dean really doesn’t know why she had to leave the room and he feels so fucking bad because he promised her that he’d be by her side. It’s a good thing that he had control over Dick and Zach, though. So at least they couldn’t have come on to her and touch her inappropriately.

Everyone is making their way up the elevator, with Dick and Benny in deep conversation and Azazel and Zach. Apparently, Dick and Benny has some other issues to work through which Dean shouldn’t know about, but as hard as Dean tried to eavesdrop, he can’t make out a word because Zach was raving to Azazel about the casino and the strip club, inviting him to show him around because they have this new spa in the newly build wing where you can even gamble while relaxing. It’s ridiculous really.

When they get out of the elevator, Azazel taps Dean on his shoulder, falls into step beside him, “Can you take my daughter home? I’ll probably stay the night and I don’t want her to wait and stay with me. I know she doesn’t like to be around them.”

Dean knows who he means by them. So the little detail didn’t slip Azazel’s eyes and Dean’s actually quite glad that the man knows how uncomfortable the men are to his daughter.

“Of course,” Dean answers, has to fucking try not to show too much emotion.

“Thanks,” The King nods, and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of approval.

God, Dean doesn’t know if he’d still be thanking him if he knew that Dean’s already fucked his daughter not once but three times.

They make their way down the stairs to the club and already something seems off. The people are talking in hushed tones, the strippers aren’t stripping and the girls aren’t dancing.

Dean spots it then, spots her at the back, where Nick has pinned her against the wall, his hand around her throat. People around them watch in horror and Ed tries to talk Nick out of it, but the dude already lifts his hand and slaps her across the face.

Chapter.12

#golden cage #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip: Part 38 - Senses

As you devour the smooth, soft skin of her neck Momo’s hands reach for your belt, working the latch with quick, experienced fingers, having done it a thousand times before. With the belt undone she hooks her thumbs into your waistband and pulls your pants down, taking your boxers along with them.

Almost as soon as your cock springs free her hand is on it, and you let a loud sigh escape your lips at the feel of her hands on your shaft again - a handjob wasn’t exactly hard to come by these days for you, but to have Momo’s hands on you again drove the pleasure to another level. The history, the past emotions - it heightened every little ounce of pleasure, every little touch and taste.

Your cock hardens quickly in her grasp, every pump of her soft, long fingers creating delicious little spikes of pleasure that shoot up your spine and directly into your brain. Momo gasps as you suck on the warm spots of her neck and jawline, her pace with your shaft quickening with each moan of pleasure that leaves her lips.

She eventually has enough, and she draws her neck away from your hungry lips to make eye contact with you. You see the same look in her eyes you’d seen so many times before - hazel pools filled with lust and need and want. She licks her lips, drops to her knees, and you feel the breath leaving your lungs involuntarily as she takes you into her mouth.

“I should’ve known you’d be here early.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Hirai Momo says, raising her head from the laptop only briefly to nod a greeting of good morning to you as you enter Red Velvet’s apartment, “I double and triple checked all the tech in here along with all the cameras we placed at the entrances and exits. I had to do it before the sun came up - you know Irene’s thugs could be casing this place as we speak.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” you answer as you step inside the bedroom where Momo had set up her recording equipment on the wooden desk. You take a seat on the bed, where Seulgi had had her way with you the day before.

It was the day of Seulgi’s scheduled meeting with Irene, and a few hours before noon, which was when Seulgi said Irene should show up. You’d arrived early to ensure everything was in place; the others weren’t due to arrive for another hour or so.

“I have to think of everything. This is a big op,” Momo states.

“I know. You’re really going all out.”

Momo stops whatever she was doing on the laptop. Her back is turned to you, but you still notice her head has dipped slightly, as though she weren’t looking forward to the conversation you were about to have. Her hair, done up in a high ponytail, leaves the creamy skin and graceful curve of her neck bare. Her shoulders slouch slightly.

“This needs to go well. I need to take Irene down. I need to prove that I can do this on my own. Without you.”

Her words sting you a little bit, and Momo seems to immediately regret her words, at least partially.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, “I don’t mean to say that you haven’t done your part in bringing Irene down. I guess... I just… when we worked together, when I was on your team, I always just followed your lead. You did all the work, made all the decisions. I guess that now that I’m on my own I need to prove I can do it myself.”

She’d started to say ‘I guess’ again.

“Momo, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“I need to prove it to myself,” she answers quickly.

A few quiet moments pass in silence. Since her reappearance you’d wondered why Momo had been so cold and driven; now that you knew it was because of her desire to prove herself, it explained a lot of the way she acted and spoke to you.

“I’m sorry, Momo. I didn’t know that that was what you wanted.”

“It’s fine,” she answers, shaking her head softly, “I could have been a little more straightforward with you instead of being a bitch to you for no reason.”

“Either way, when we get Irene today this’ll be your win.”

“No, it’ll be ours,” she corrects, “it was your team that got all that incriminating intel right from under their noses. Without it we wouldn’t have anything to prove she did what she did.”

“But it was your team that will actually bag her. The intel is useless if she keeps getting away.”

Her back is turned, but you could sense a small smile appearing on the girl’s cheeks.

“I guess we can call it a team effort,” she admits, and you are happy to find a little levity in her tone. “A team win.”

“You do remember what we used to do after each of our wins back in the day...”

“Take a cab back to the hotel room and fuck like rabbits?” Momo quickly answers, with a snort and a giggle. She turns her head halfway toward you, and you are glad to see a nostalgic smile on her lips.

“Yeah. Sometimes we wouldn’t even wait for the hotel. Remember the supply closet in the convention centre when we were in Frankfurt?”

“Of course I do. Or the cab in Lima? The driver must’ve been wondering why the hell I had your jacket over your lap in the summer heat.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the first handjob ever given in that backseat,” you say with a smile, “either way it was real awkward making it from the cab to the hotel room with a raging boner.”

Momo giggles, and the sound is soft, musical; it lifts your spirits to hear something so wonderful, because you wondered if you’d ever hear it again. Memories of days gone past run through your heads, and bittersweet smiles paint themselves on your lips. Things were so much simpler then. No danger or drama, hurt or betrayal - only the next business deal to make, the next plane to catch, and evenings of passion and lust with someone you were falling in love with.

“I want things to be that way again,” you say, softly, the words leaving your lips before you even knew you were saying them.

“Me too,” Momo agrees, “but we can’t go back.”

“Why not?”

Momo turns her head back away from you, staring blankly at her laptop screen again.

“It was different back then. It was just me and you, without a care in the world. Before all these other girls entered your life. I don’t mind who you fuck - you know that - but these girls… They all want to be with you.”

“Momo, I-”

“Would they ever leave your life?” Momo asks, pointedly. “Sana is one of the most passionate people I know - and she’s crazy for you. She’d do anything for you, even if it meant risking her career or her friendships. That cop - Nayeon, was it? I know you have history together. Maybe you would still be together, if it weren’t for this job. How do you know she’s not the one? She came halfway around the world for the chance to start over with you. And Jeongyeon-”

Momo’s voice cuts out, a sudden rush of emotion keeping her from finishing her sentence. She raises a hand to her mouth, almost as if physically covering her mouth could keep her from saying something she would regret.

“...she loves you. I guess I always saw it in the way she looked at you, but I just ignored it. I thought it was just a schoolgirl crush. And she pissed me right the fuck off with how she told you about her feelings while she knew we were together… but she was right there with you in that alleyway, before we rescued you. That wasn’t a girl standing by her boss. That was a girl standing by someone she loves.”

Momo takes a few deep breaths to compose herself, and although only a few seconds pass, the time in silence felt like hours.

“And I… I love you too. I guess I’ve always loved you. I guess a part of me always will, no matter what happens today or who you choose to be with. But if we’re going to be together I want to know you’re mine, truly mine, and mine alone. I don’t care about where you stick your dick. I just care about who’s in your heart. That’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”

More quiet breaths, more thoughts and memories and emotions running rampant through the heads and hearts of two confused young people - more silence covering it all like an unwanted, uncomfortable threadbare blanket that provided little warmth.

“You’re such a lucky little douchebag,” Momo says with a chuckle and smile that had little humor. “All these stupid young girls, tripping over themselves to let you know how much they want you.”

The silence returns - but so does your answer.

“What about what I want?”

Momo doesn’t answer, perhaps unprepared for your question.

“All of you, you’ve all told me what you want, and why you’re each better than the others. Why I should pick you. But never once has anyone asked me what I want - what I was looking for. And not one of you has considered that maybe, just maybe, I have other things on my mind besides choosing a girlfriend.”

The words spilled from your lips before you could even know you were speaking them, because you knew they came not from your brain but from somewhere deeper inside you. Momo had brought up a good point; each of the girls had made their case clear to you over the past few days and weeks. Each had made clear their desire for you, how much they wanted to be with you. And you’d accepted their declarations and considered each in turn - but not until now had you considered what you wanted.

You decide that what you want at the moment is a little time alone. You stand from the bed and with steps that felt heavier than they should, you begin to make your way to the bedroom door. When you reach the door and begin to open it, Momo rises from her chair and places a hand on your wrist.

You move to step around her, but she steps in front of you as well, her head lowered, as though she were afraid of what she might see if she looked up at you. Behind her, she closes the door, the click of the handle sounding uncomfortably loud in the quiet room.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice low and quiet. “What we want doesn’t matter if you don’t want the same thing.”

“It’s fine, Momo,” you say, trying your best to control your frustration and the sudden rise of anger in your head, “it’s fine. It can wait until after we bag Irene and finally move on from this mess.”

You move to step around Momo, but once again she blocks you from leaving by stepping in front of you - but this time she moves her face closer to yours, your noses grazing softly.

It only takes a few seconds and a light graze of your faces - but almost immediately the passion that once existed between you reignites. She was once such a central figure in your life, someone you saw almost every day and spent almost every night with; but to have been away from her for so long, combined with the dangerous and intense circumstances you’d both found yourselves in when you finally reconnected - it had all built up, waiting to be released.

Her lips press lightly against yours, and the kiss starts off tamely, as though both of you are testing the waters - but it soon ignites into an ember and then a flame, your lips crashing against each other as you both give in to your desires.

Momo wraps her arms around your neck and you wrap yours around her slim, perfect torso, both of you relishing the feel of each others’ bodies once again. Her tongue swipes across your lips and you let her into your mouth, your tongues duelling the same way they had on so many days and nights. She tastes of peach lip gloss and sweet candy, a treat you’d gone too long without, one that reminded you of simpler, carefree days gone by.

You give her a deep kiss before releasing her lips, diving into her neck and the warm spots there that you knew she loved. She lets out a wordless gasp as your need to press yourself against her in turn presses her back against the closed door. The soft smell of her perfume fills your nostrils like an intoxicating drug, one you long thought you’d sworn off, but one you now greedily fill your hungry lungs with.

The other girls were no slouches when it came to oral sex, each of them pleasuring you in their own way. But none of them knew you like Momo did; and combined with the pent up tension and emotion that had pervaded your every interaction with her since she left your team, it made every entrance and exit of your cock into her wet, warm mouth that much more pleasurable.

Her tongue swirls in circular patterns, focusing mostly on your head, swirling around the tip and beneath it, her right hand pumping at your base in time with each thrust into her mouth, the same way she had a hundred times before. And the reaction she creates in your body is the same; a quickly building pleasure that overtakes your senses from your head to your toes, the kind that removes the existence of anything else in the world aside from the beautiful young woman on her knees before you, and the wet, hot cavern of her mouth and tongue.

You brace yourself against the closed door with one hand, your other reaching down to cradle the side of her head as it bobs back and forth on your shaft. You let a sigh escape your lips - a needy, lusty sound - as you watch Momo work. When she looks up at you her eyes are just as wanton as yours, but there is more than just lust there; there is a look of affection, a look of a need fulfilled.

You want more - you needed more.

You draw your saliva-coated cock from the Japanese girl’s lips, and she moans in disappointment at your decision to stop her in the midst of her work. But when you reach down and grasp her by the shoulders and pull her up to her feet, her objections quickly flee from her mind.

You turn her around so she is facing the door, her hands reaching out to brace herself against it, leaving your hands free to explore her tight, perfect frame. She is wearing high-waisted black leggings that cling like a second skin to her small waist, full hips, and the round cheeks of her ass; and as great as the sight of the black spandex was, it looked even better once it was pulled down to her knees. Momo’s perfect, vanilla skin almost glows in the early morning light, creamy and soft, begging to be touched and held and squeezed.

You press yourself against the young woman’s now naked midsection, your slick cock pressing between the round cheeks of her ass and the small of her back. Momo gasps at the touch of your cock on her body, the gasp turning into a long, soft moan as you thrust softly between her cheeks, a prelude, a tease of what was to come.

She squirms against you, grinds her hips and ass against your crotch, her body moving like liquid as she struggles to find release for the need building within her. But you deny her for now - you had to feel more of her, had to indulge in more of the perfect body you’d gone for so long without.

You continue to thrust between her ass cheeks, but as you do so you bring your hands up her naked sides, enjoying the feel of her soft, creamy skin beneath your fingers and palms. When you reach the edge of the short blue crop top she is wearing you dive beneath it, finding that she is wearing a black sports bra beneath it. You dig your fingertips beneath it’s hem and pull upward, feeling her large, round breasts bounce free as you pull it above her full mounds.

Almost immediately your hands are on her breasts, indulging in the feel of her perfect tits in your hands, enjoying their weight and the soft creaminess of them. Your thumbs and index fingers find her nipples, delighting in the fact that they were already stiff with pleasure. You would’ve given anything to have them in your mouth, but you settle for teasing and pinching them with your fingers, twisting the stiff little buds until Momo’s gasps and whimpers turn into full on moans, filling the small bedroom with vocalizations of the physical pleasure coursing through her young body.

Momo’s butt grinds even stronger against your crotch until she is thrusting your cock between her ass cheeks all on her own. With a satisfied smile you release her right breast from your grasp, reaching down past sculpted abs and a flat stomach to the heat between her thighs, finding her almost dripping with need. Her own right hand joins yours at her crotch, her middle finger pressing your own against her drenched lips, pressing your finger down until it slips between the slippery lips of her pussy.

Momo moans - not a simple moan of sexual pleasure; a moan of need, of want, of pure lust. “Fuck me, please,” she gasps.

You decide she’d had enough teasing. Bringing your hands to her slim waist, you position yourself to take her. Momo’s hand at her crotch brings your tip to her wet, slick entrance, the head of your cock pressing between her needy lips.

You thrust into her with one long, smooth stroke - and you both feel the air rushing from your lungs in a loud, unhindered gasp of pleasure.

You both take a few seconds there as you fill her to the hilt; both of you getting that first hit of a drug after a long absence, that sinful depravity of an unexpected relapse.

But you both need more than just that first hit; more than just a promise of pleasure. And so you withdraw your shaft from her body, her pussy hugging it tightly as though unwilling to let it go. It glistens with her juices. She trembles with need.

You thrust back into Momo, then a third time, then a forth - until you settle quickly into a rhythm, fucking the gasping, mewling Japanese girl against the door of the bedroom with quick, strong thrusts. Her body is rocked with each entry into her pussy, the round cheeks of her ass bouncing deliciously with each impact, her spine and back easing into a delightful curve as she settles into your rhythm.

Her gasps and whimpers and moans fill the room, unheeding of the presence of neighbors or teammates or anyone else that could possibly interrupt the pleasure you were building inside her body. You cannot help but join her, her tight, hot body and the wetness of her pussy turning the pleasure in your loins into wordless grunts and gasps.

“Oh, fuck, fuck me please,” she gasps, her words light and breathless, as though she were having more than just lust fulfilled - there is a happiness in her tone, a joy, almost, that something she’d lost had finally come back into her life.

“Fuck, Momo,” you say in return, not capable of coming up with the words to say any more. When you’d fucked in the past your words were dirty, vulgar; now they were filled with some other emotion. Was it joy? Happiness? Nostalgia, at the way things used to be? You didn’t have the time or mental capacity to interpret it, not when Momo’s perfect body was taking you in and out, the tight wet heat between her legs driving you insane with each thrust into her pussy.

You settle fully into your rhythm, fucking her for a few beautiful minutes, neither increasing nor decreasing your pace; both of you enjoying the moment, the pleasure rising within your bodies. You drink in every inch of Momo’s body as you pump in and out of her - the graceful curve of her back, the round softness of her bouncing ass, the glistening wetness of her pussy lips as they take you in and out, lathering your cock with her slick juices each time. Your hands wander - over her hips and back and ass and breasts, never once breaking contact, never once without creamy vanilla skin beneath your fingertips.

You reach up to the bun of hair at the back of her head and give it a light tug, pulling her head back, her throat opening up into a long, lustful moan.

Her hands search for something, anything on the wall to grasp as an outlet for her pleasure - but failing to find anything, she reaches for the desk next to her. The task is made impossible by each thrust into her body, causing her hand to bounce frantically around on the desk; her movement knocks a few notepads and pens to the floor, not that she minded, not that she gave a damn or could even process the mess she was making, not when every thrust of the stiff, long cock into her body was driving her insane with pleasure.

“I… I, oh god, I’m cum-”

You’d seen and felt Hirai Momo orgasm hundreds of times, but the orgasm that overtakes her now is perhaps the strongest you’d ever given her. Her perfect, sculpted body is reduced to a quivering, mewling mess as your next thrust drives her over the edge. She moans. She gasps. But mostly, she trembles and shakes as she cums, her gaping mouth frozen in a seemingly endless moan of pleasure.

Her pussy clenches and pulsates and tightens deliciously around your cock - and it takes every effort not to join her over the edge. For as wonderful as she was from behind you had to have her face to face, needed to see those perfect features while you filled her.

Momo seems to have the same idea, for when she eventually recovers from her orgasm she turns around, letting you regretfully slip out of her body. She almost tears her leggings from her body before turning to the desk and sweeping half of the stuff on it onto the ground. Locking eyes with you, she hops onto the desk and spreads her legs, allowing you between them.

Within seconds you are inside her again, fucking her face to face.

She was a sight to behold from behind, but nothing quite beat watching her face as you filled her again and again with your slick, hard cock, those pretty features contorted in pleasure and lust and fulfilled need. Each thrust into her body gives her breasts a beautiful shock, her stiff nipples bouncing deliciously with each clap of your crotch against hers. The flex of her sculpted abs with each of her breaths, the soft creaminess of her thighs as she spreads them widely to take you inside her, the shaved mound above a glistening pussy and its splayed lips as your cock pumped in and out of her - it all became too much, all became too much to take in at once. It almost embarrassed you to admit you were closer to orgasm than you thought.

Momo lies back on the desk until she is resting on her elbows, giving you a perfect view of her body as you continue to fuck her. She captures both of her large breasts for a moment to pinch her own stiff nipples, before releasing them both so you could watch them bounce with each thrust into her body - just the way she knew you liked. Her eyes, locked on yours, are half-lidded and dripping with wanton desire.

For a few long, beautiful minutes you fuck the young woman on the desk, relishing the feel of every thrust, every entry and exit into her impossibly perfect body. But the feel of her wet, hot silk wrapped around your shaft, her needy and wanton cries of lust and moans of need - they all built up to an orgasm you were simultaneously craving and fearing, because you knew it would mean an end to this experience.

“Fuck, Momo, I-”

“Just cum for me, baby,” she replies, raising her torso from the desk to press her mouth against your ear as she wraps her arms and legs around you, “Please. Cum in me like you used to. Fill me again. Fill me with your cum.”

“Momo… Momo, I-”

“Cum inside me!”

When you finally cum it is like your world has ended; the pleasure overtakes every ounce of your being until you’re unsure whether you’re still alive. The pulsating of your shaft inside Momo’s hot, tight pussy, the feel of filling her body with thick, creamy semen, and the light, airy gasp of her moans are the only physical sensations you are aware of.

You almost forget to breathe - and when you finally regain consciousness, holding yourself up with weak hands on either side of Momo’s exhausted body, you have to remind yourself to do so, taking in large gulps of oxygen to feed tired lungs.

It’s Momo that raises your head with her hands until you are face to face with hers. Her eyes are heavy with fulfilled lust, but also genuine affection. She was someone you loved and someone you might still love - and you see, in those dark brown pools, that she perhaps still felt the same.

She kisses you, and it is a kiss that confirms the way she felt.

---

“This is a pretty big deal, huh?” Minatozaki Sana asks.

“Yes, yes it is,” Yoo Jeongyeon answers, although most of her attention is focused on the bank of laptops and screens in front of her.

Sana sighs to herself, seeing that Jeongyeon was too preoccupied with making last minute adjustments and preparations on her laptop to provide her with conversation. The two are sitting in the back of the van that belonged to Momo and her team, parked in an alleyway a block from Red Velvet’s apartment building. Jeongyeon was in charge of keeping an eye on all the cameras Momo and her team had planted the day before.

Sana fidgets with the backpack on her lap, playing with the zippers the same way an impatient child might while waiting for class to start. Jeongyeon turns her head from the monitors to give Sana a sharp look - and the Japanese girl gives her an apologetic bow of her head before ceasing her play with the zipper.

But soon she is tapping a beat on the backpack with her fingers.

“Sana,” Jeongyeon finally snaps.

“I’m sorry,” the Japanese girl replies, “I’m just… nervous.”

“We all are,” Jeongyeon replies, her tone relaxing somewhat, “but we’ll be okay. This time tomorrow we’ll be laughing about how we’ve finally bagged Irene.”

Sana seems comforted by the Korean girl’s confidence, and she offers her a smile.

There is a knock on the rear of the van, and the door opens to reveal a smiling Yeri.

“Ready to go, Sana-chan?” the young woman asks, her bright face beaming, showing no trace of nervousness given the gravity of the day’s upcoming events.

“Ready!” Sana answers, as brightly as she could. The Japanese girl gathers the backpack that is carrying her recording equipment and hops out of the van, giving Yeri a high five as she does so. Taking a deep breath to gather herself, she begins to walk away towards the cafe opposite the apartment building, where she was to set up her lookout point. Her role was to inform the rest of the team the second Irene arrived on the premises.

After watching Sana leave and giving Jeongyeon a reassuring smile, Yeri returns to her place in the passenger seat of the van.

Chaeyoung, sitting in the driver’s seat, doesn’t even turn her head to welcome Yeri back into the cabin. Her eyes are locked on Sana’s swaying hips as the girl walks towards the cafe. “Damn, Japanese girls are hot,” she says under her breath.

“They sure are,” Yeri agrees as she retakes her seat.

Had Chaeyoung been able to tear her gaze from Sana, she might have noticed something tucked into the back of Yeri’s pants.

---

“She’s here,” Momo says from her seat in front of the recording equipment, “Sana reports she’s alone. Jeongyeon says she’s at the main elevator.”

“Finally,” Jihyo says. She closes up the bulletproof vest she is wearing and draws her sidearm from the holster at her belt before racking the slide and chambering a round. On the other side of the bedroom Nayeon does the same, the thick dark blue vest looking almost out of place on her tiny frame.

The sight of Nayeon handling the weapon disturbed you somewhat; not that you felt she was incapable of handling herself - rather, you had trouble difficulty reconciling the image of the young, naive schoolgirl you once knew with the strong, confident woman who now stood in front of you. As Nayeon reholsters her pistol, some sort of compact Glock variant, she catches your eyes and gives you a sheepish smile. You are comforted, somewhat, in seeing a little bit of the girl you once knew in the woman’s soft, beautiful features.

You open the bedroom door to speak to Seulgi, who is waiting on the living room’s couch.

“She’s here.”

You wonder if there is anything else you could say, any small words of encouragement you could provide the former member of Red Velvet that might help her in some way. But when you see the determination and conviction in her eyes, you realize she didn’t need to be told anything further.

Closing the door, you step back into the bedroom, where the other three girls are standing by.

“Let’s recap. When Irene gets here, Seulgi has five minutes to confront her. Only after those minutes are up do you two go out there and arrest her.”

“I still don’t understand why she gets five minutes at all,” Jihyo states. “This is a criminal matter. We need to arrest her the second we’re able to. Every extra second she spends out there is a second she can use to get away.”

“I promised her five minutes,” you answer. “It’s the least we can do for the work she’s done to get Irene here. Without Seulgi, this doesn’t happen.”

“She deserves it,” Momo adds, giving you a reassuring nod.

“Fine. But the second those five minutes are up, Nayeon and I go in there and arrest her. Then we take her straight to the station for processing.”

“Understood,” you answer.

Satisfied that the plan was in place and the four of you were on the same page, you take a seat next to Momo, accepting the pair of headphones she offers you that are connected to the listening and recording devices in the living room. On the screen of her monitor, you watch Seulgi pace nervously back and forth as she waits for the knock on her door.

“Seulgi, I-”

“No. You don’t get to speak. I ask the questions, you answer them. That’s how this goes.”

“I… I thought you were-”

“What did I just say?”

“Is Yeri-”

“She’s fine. Now stand there and shut the fuck up.”

Their first words are contentious and confrontational. You’d wondered how their first interaction would go; Seulgi, as she often did, set the tone.

Irene looked confused, almost unsure of herself - and it seemed out of place for her character, given your only other direct interaction with her. In her office at SM HQ all those months ago, Bae Irene was cold and calculating, with a ruthless streak that pervaded every aspect of her character. Now she seemed rattled, as though merely seeing Seulgi again had shaken her to the core. Understandable, given what happened the last time they saw each other.

“Do you know… what I had to go through… when you left us behind?” Seulgi asks. While she was obviously trying to remain as cold as she could, the small hints of weakness in her tone betrayed the strong front she was trying to put up.

“Seulgi… please. Let me-”

“Y’know, all those months we spent in YG’s dungeon… I thought about giving up. About letting it all go. But only one thing kept me going, Irene. Just one thing gave me the strength I needed to make it through the day. Only one thing gave me the drive to escape YG. Do you… do you know what that was?”

Irene is shaken as she listens to Seulgi’s words. She fidgets nervously with her jacket, her feet shuffling on the floor nervously. But her face - her expression - was what gave her away. She is a broken woman, as though the very sight of Seulgi had torn down the cold ice queen persona she was so well known for.

She seems unable to even answer Seulgi’s question, and so she merely shakes her head.

“It was the possibility… the idea that I might see you again some day. That I might stand in front of you and ask you just one question. Just one word.”

Irene’s lip quivers, as though she were fighting a vain battle to hold back her tears.

“...why?”

Irene lets an exasperated gasp leave her mouth, as though it were something she were struggling to keep inside. She covers her lips with a hand, her eyes closing.

“Why?” Seulgi continues, “Why did you leave us behind? We cried and sweat and bled together, and when it came down to it - when we needed you most - you left us behind!”

Seulgi’s anger is at the fore now, and she does nothing to fight it, nothing to save her words. She is shaking, her hands balled into tight fists.

“Fucking tell me, Irene! Tell me why you left us behind!”

Through the camera feed, you witness Bae Irene do something you never in a million years thought you’d see - she cries. The tears fall from her cheeks in a glistening spill, down perfect, porcelain skin. She covers her face with her hands, as though her hands could somehow keep her from facing the accusations of her best friend and the dark memories that accompanied them.

“I’m so, so sorry, Seulgi. I-”

“No,” Seulgi demands, and while her back is turned to the camera you could tell from her tone that she too was crying. “No, you don’t get to apologize. You only get to answer the question. Now. Tell me. Tell me why.”

A few moments pass as Irene struggles to control her emotions. Your view of her is shaken; you long thought of her as a cold and calculating villain, heartless and cruel, especially as you navigated the many challenges and dangers she and her company threw your way. But that was all a far cry from the broken, teary girl on the screen of the laptop in front of you.

“I… I… Do you, do you remember… when I was first assigned to take down YG?” she asks, with uncertain words, wiping away tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She keeps her gaze locked on her hands as she struggles to compose herself, unwilling or unable to match Seulgi’s eyes.

“Yes. You got in close with the YG CEO.”

Irene smiles at the floor, despite her tears, as though she had just heard a joke.

“I lied to you, Seulgi. I lied to all of you. I told you I had the upper hand, had him wrapped around my finger. It was the opposite.”

There is silence for a few moments as Seulgi tries to comprehend what she was saying, and while Irene tries to compose her next words.

“I tried to overpower him, bend him to our needs, the way we always did with other men. But he was scarier than I thought. Instead, he turned it around on me. He used you four to get to me.”

“...what?”

“He suddenly had pictures of the four of you. He knew where we lived, where we worked, where we went out for dinner. He threatened to hurt you if I didn’t do what he said. And through us, he wanted to bring down SM as a whole. But even that wasn’t enough - he threatened my family too, and yours. He even had pictures of Wendy’s family in Canada. I didn’t tell you any of this. I got us into the mess, and I thought I could get us out of it.”

“But I thought… I thought you had him under your control? And that was how you found out about Blackpink, and how we needed to rescue them?”

Irene laughs again, a sad, ironic smile on her lips that carried little humor.

“That wasn’t a rescue mission, Seulgi. That was a kidnapping.”

Seulgi doesn’t answer, seemingly shocked into silence.

“YG relied on Blackpink. They were YG’s corporate espionage division - not their R&D team, like I told you. Blackpink were the ones that stalked our families and got YG their information. Without them their company was going under, thanks to all those scandals they were involved in. Taking Blackpink down was a form of revenge on them - and I thought that it would keep him from threatening us ever again. Once he promised to leave us alone, I’d let the girls go. The less you four knew about it, the better off you were. But things went south during the mission...”

“Jesus, Irene…”

“...and I had to leave you behind. I thought… I thought I could exchange the Blackpink girls for you and Yeri. He insisted I release the girls first. I was desperate and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make sure you two were okay - so I released them. But YG didn’t hold up their end of the bargain. They kept you two. And they used you against me, as revenge.”

“How?”

“They threatened to hurt you if I didn’t comply with them. They knew JYP was their next closest competitor, so they told me to do whatever it took to bring them down.”

“So all that backstabbing, hiring Chou Tzuyu and Minatozaki Sana to bring down JYP, hacking their servers - that was all on YG’s orders?”

“Yes,” Irene answers, the word a soft gasp that leaves her lips, as though she didn’t want to say it.

When Seulgi speaks, it is only after long, agonizing minutes in silence.

“That… that’s not enough, Irene.”

“...what?”

“You… you still left us there.”

“I had the Blackpink girls. I thought I could-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you left us behind. It doesn’t take away the pain-”

“Seulgi-”

“I would have never left you behind, Irene. I would have stood there and fought with you. I would have been captured with you. And I would have been right there with you while those YG fuckers-”

“Seulgi, please. YG-”

“No. No, Irene, No. I don’t give a shit about YG or SM or JYP or whoever the fuck else was involved. No. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore.”

Tears have begun to fall down Irene’s cheeks again, although she makes no effort to wipe them away, facing Seulgi with as brave a face as she could possibly make. Perhaps she knew, somewhere deep down, that facing Seulgi’s accusations was a punishment she deserved.

“I loved you, Irene!” Seulgi says, her words desperate. “I loved you. I still love you. And when I saw you leave us behind it shattered my heart into a million pieces. That pain, and the pain we endured at YG - it was all because of you. You deserve to feel the same pain I did.”

In the bedroom, Jihyo rises to her feet.

“That’s it,” she says with a hushed whisper for fear of the two in the living room hearing, “that’s all we need. Her time is up, and she’s about to go ballistic. We go now.”

Before you can stop her or say otherwise, Jihyo is already opening the bedroom door, Nayeon close on her heels.

“Seoul PD! Bae Irene, you are under arrest,” Jihyo announces, ignoring the confused protests of Seulgi, Momo and yourself. She begins to read out the list of Irene’s crimes as Nayeon steps behind her and handcuffs her.

The next few seconds are a whirlwind of confusion, an overload on the senses. Seulgi’s anguished cries of anger; Momo trying to reason in vain with Jihyo; Nayeon reading Irene her rights in both English and Korean; Irene’s cold, sad eyes, and the defeated look on her tear streaked face as her wrists are cuffed behind her. It all almost seemed to move in slow motion, the angry and sad and stern tones all blending into one long, incomprehensible blur.

Some time later, you’d look back at what would happen next and remember the utter chaos that erupted all in the space of a few seconds. You remember the way it felt - the sudden, unexpected rush of air pressure. The way you felt it in your skin and especially in your ears. The bright, wicked flashes of light that stole the attention of your eyes before temporarily blinding you with their unwanted brilliance.

And later you’d wonder how someone who’d seen and heard many thousands of gunshots on TV, movies and video games was still utterly unprepared for the sound of a gun firing twice, indoors, from only a few feet away. Gunshots, you realized that day, are greedy, possessive things - demanding every ounce of your attention, against your will, ignorant of your preparation or readiness for the sensations that accompanied them.

When the gunshots finally release your senses from their grasp, your eyes are the first to recover. They register two bodies on the floor lying in crumpled heaps. Your last glimpse of Seulgi is as she’s dragging Irene out of the door and into the hallway, a smoking pistol in her hand.

---

Author’s Note: :O

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #pov smut #male reader #twice momo #twice #hirai momo

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Five ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pariring: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3418

Warnings: Tw gaslighting

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for the love on the last chapter! Happy Monday :)

My cloak is dry in the morning, thank goodness. I cozy up in it the first chance I have, grateful for the thick material that I complained about only a few days prior. I help Rumil tack his horse and then mount. He lets me steer the beast again, insisting that I need more practice. Before we set out from camp, Haldir circles his horse around to face the five of us.

“We have gone north far enough. Now, we head west. Stay sharp as we near the mountains. If you see or hear something that causes concern or even seems remotely unsettling, say something.” Murmurs of solemn agreement run through the group.

Briefly, Haldir’s eyes lock with mine. I raise an eyebrow, silently reminding him of my question from last night. He nods once, almost imperceptibly, then turns his horse. I urge my own to follow, and vaguely realize I don’t even know its name.

“Hey, Rumil?” I turn over my shoulder to glance at him, then face back to the road. I really shouldn’t look anywhere other than the path.

“Yes?”

“I never asked—what’s the horse’s name?”

Rumil snorts, patting his horse affectionately on the side. “You never asked his name because you don’t like him.”

I sputter at the accusation. “Wha—no! I don’t mind the horse—it’s fine!”

“But you don’t like the horse,” he teases, grinning broadly.

I huff, gathering as much dignity as I can. “I just don’t enjoy the height of the horse, nor the fact that he throws me around. I don’t mind the horse itself.”

My companions chuckle indulgently and Baranor gives me a playfully exasperated sigh. “Well, if he won’t tell you, I will. The horse’s name is Roch.”

“Roch,” I repeat, turning the unfamiliar name awkwardly around my tongue. “That’s not a name I recognize. Does it mean anything or was it just something you liked?”

My question is met with snickers.

I furrow my eyebrows, looking around at my friends. “What?” Then, I see the pointed looks Orophin gives the horse, and realization begins to dawn. I twist in my seat to glare unbelievingly at Rumil. “Tell me you did not name your horse, ‘Horse!’”

Pink tints Rumil’s cheeks. “I was practically an elfling when I named him!”

Orophin howls with laughter. “Do not make excuses, brother, you were fully of age!”

“Barely,” Rumil defends, voice squeaking with indignation.

This, of course, makes us all laugh even harder.

“Well then, giddyup Horse the horse.” I take a hand from the reins to pat Horse’s shoulder, then right myself once more. I spare a quick glance to Alex, who hasn’t said a word all morning, and find him glaring over Baranor’s shoulder.

He still doesn’t trust them.

You shouldn’t, either, a voice reminds me.

Pushing that thought aside, I squeeze Roch once more, encouraging him to keep pace with the group.

{***}

Exhausted from days of travel and the weather yesterday, the horses can’t manage much more than a trot for long. I can tell this frustrates my companions, but they give the horses the rest they need—Haldir eventually calling for us to slow to a walk. I take the opportunity to slide off Roch’s back and walk by myself, giving my muscles a bit of a break. Alex soon follows suit, limping slightly.

I hurry to catch up to him. “How’s your leg?”

“Healing, I think. Baranor says not to let it get dirty again and I should be fine. It’s not my leg that’s bothering me—it’s my ass! Horseback riding is no joke.”

I giggle, reaching my arms overhead as I walk. “Right! My first day here I was practically hobbled over. It does get better, though. Just keep walking and stretching when you have the chance.”

He tilts his head, giving me a sidelong look. “So, how long have you been here?”

I shrug. “Same as you, I think, based on when you say you woke up. I…” I sigh, not sure how long he’ll let me talk about our situation before he shuts me down. “I’m sorry you had to wander by yourself for a few days. It must have been scary. I know how lucky I was to have help right away.”

“It was scary.” He moves to slide his hands into his pockets, then realizes his leggings don’t have any. He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest instead. “But what I can’t figure out is why they separated us?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Well, obviously we had to be taken together. Given what we can remember, we’re really close friends. It makes no sense for our kidnappers to take us both randomly—it must have been an effort to get us together. Maybe we were traveling? Or maybe a mutual friend of ours is wealthy, and the kidnappers are trying to pull a double ransom? But regardless of why they took us, why didn’t they keep us together? Did I fall out of the car or something? Or did the police catch on and they were forced to dump us in different places to slow the cops down?”

I look at him from the corner of my eye. He’s not going to like what I’m about to say. But the differences between us and the others, the wide and unfamiliar world we find ourselves in, the new constellations…it’s getting too much to ignore. “Alex…my gut says we weren’t kidnapped.”

He whirls to face me, a slightly wild look in his eye. “What, then? Do you think we came here and got hit over the head willingly?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I—I just think that maybe…well, if we’re both here, then we can pretty much rule out a head injury or drugs or something causing our imaginations to run wild in the same way at the same time…And there’s no evidence we were kidnapped—I mean, look at who we’re traveling with. If they wanted, they could easily tie us up and throw us over the horses, but instead they’re teaching us and sharing their supplies with us. They stopped to help. And, I mean, with all that exists in space…there’s a whole universe out there…is it crazy to believe that maybe something like this is possible? That we’re in a different world?”

He’s shaking his head vehemently before I’ve even finished speaking. “Cosima, please tell me you’re smarter than that. There’s no such thing as other worlds! Where’s the evidence that this place isn’t on Earth? Huh? Logically, it has to be a kidnapping or a drugging, or maybe even some conspiracy to run experiments on us.”

“Evidence!” I bark a humorless laugh, not at all appreciating his condescending tone. “Okay, how about the armor and the landscape and the fact that our companions have pointed ears and way better senses then we do. How about the constellations that I’ve never seen before in my life? There are no cell towers, no skyscrapers — I haven’t seen train tracks or cars. Even if we were just in an isolated area of Earth, I feel like we would have heard a plane by now! Alex, there is nothing consistent with the world we know.”

He quickens his pace, fists clenching in frustration. “But we don’t have our full memories—maybe the world we remember isn’t all of it. Maybe this stuff is perfectly normal!”

“And maybe it isn’t,” I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Come on, why are you quick to dismiss taking the people who saved our lives at face value?”

“You are too trusting, Cosima! You always have been—too trusting and too naive and it’s going to get you into trouble. It already has!” His voice has risen well above polite volume and, though they could probably hear us all along due to their enhanced senses, I see four heads tilt in our direction.

Alex notices, too. He steps forward, gripping my arm and pulling me to a stop. I suck in a breath. He realizes the force behind his grip and pulls his hand away, giving me an apologetic look. “Sorry. But you have to understand—now is not the time to be friendly and accepting. I may not remember much, but I do know that I’ve always looked out for you. You know that, don’t you? So why would now be any different?”

I eye him warily, contemplating his words.

And he’s right.

In every memory I have of him, he’s nothing but kind to me, looking out for me however he can. At one point, we were inseparable. I must have trusted him then.

So perhaps I should trust him now.

He sees the shift in my resolve and knows he’s hit his mark. He draws in close once again but makes no move to touch me. “Cosi…” My eyes snap to his with the nickname and the unexpected surge of warmth that comes with it. He smiles softly. “I’m willing to bet that back home, we have people missing us. It’s our duty to do everything we can to get back to them. Don’t let yourself be deceived or distracted.”

The sound of hooves touching the ground gets nearer and I look up in time to feel the puff of warm air as Haldir’s horse exhales on top of my head. Haldir sits high, chest plate glinting in the sun and casting a bit of a glare on his face. I have to squint to see him properly. “Is everything alright?”

Both he and Alex look to me, waiting for my answer. I shift under their gazes.“Yeah.”

Haldir nods once. “Good. Keep walking or get back on a horse. We cannot lose any more time than we already have.” He turns and rides away, resuming his spot leading the group. Alex gives me a fortifying nod then signals to Baranor, pulling himself atop the mighty steed. Rumil speeds up Roch to catch up to me—he had fallen behind, watching our backs as the group became more spread out due to mine and Alex’s argument. How can I not trust him?

Rumil extends a hand down to me. “Coming up?”

But Alex is right. Somewhere, I must have a family, friends too, and I need to do all that I can to get back to them. Real or not, I cannot get sucked into this world that has both frightened and enchanted me for too long.

So, I shake my head, keeping my eyes low to the ground so no one will see how much this decision costs me. Because despite knowing that it’s the choice I have to make, it hurts me to shun my new friends. “No. I want to keep walking.”

And, for the remainder of the day, I stay on my feet, traveling alone.

{***}

I’m grateful when Haldir asks me to clean the horses’ tack. It’s a little more complicated than I anticipated, so I must concentrate, and I’m thankful for anything that can occupy my mind.

I have not felt normal since my conversation with Alex.

Every look or kind word from one of these new friends sends a wave of guilt through me, and, by nightfall, I have a stomachache. I cannot look Rumil in the eye, nor Baranor, and Haldir and Orophin mostly ignore me anyway, so maybe I’ve already ruined my relationships with them. Then, I have to wonder, is that good or bad? If they are as troubling as Alex says, then it’s good that they don’t like me. It makes my job of staying away from them easier. But if they’re as everything in me screams they are—strange, impossible, but good, then I’m a terrible person for pushing them away.

I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know whose word to take at face value. I cannot even rely on myself, as my memories are so incomplete. And, as Alex said, I do have a habit of trusting people right away. My perception of these men might be skewed just because they’ve shown me common decency. But then that begs the question…could my perception of Alex also be skewed?

I try to force the thought from my mind, concentrating even harder on eliminating every speck of dust from the leather and metal of the tack. Eventually, Orophin comes to get me, saying that it’s getting late and well past time to rest and eat dinner. I reluctantly put away my task.

He leads me nearer to the small fire and the camp that’s gathered around it. To my surprise, we have meat tonight—someone caught a hare and cooked it over the fire. Orophin crosses his legs on the ground, sitting between his two brothers, which means that only Baranor is on watch tonight.

I hover uncertainly at the edge of the group. Is it even right to sit with them, knowing that I’m questioning their character? This reminder of Alex makes me realize that he’s not here. I’m about to ask where he is—surely Haldir wouldn’t put him on watch—when I hear his voice.

“Cosima?”

I tilt my head towards the sound, seeing that he’s set up under a tree. I guess I’ll go join him, then. I turn back to the men lounging by the fire, all of whom look up at me expectantly. I swallow, shifting on my feet. “Um, I’m actually going to stay over there with Alex tonight. See you in the morning.” I give a half-wave and turn, but Rumil’s call brings me back.

“Here, at least take a bedroll.”

I shake my head, my stomachache intensifying. I can’t take any more of their kindness. “It’s fine, thank you though.”

He stands, extending the mat towards me. “No, really, it’s no trouble. We all are—”

“I said I didn’t want it, Rumil.”

He freezes at the harshness in my tone, the venom in my words, and I feel absolutely awful. He looks so shocked, like he has no idea where the sudden anger came from…he didn’t deserve it. He quickly morphs his expression into one of indifference and shrugs. The action is stilted and unnatural looking. “Suit yourself. Come back if you change your mind.”

I feel each of their eyes boring into my back as I turn away from them to walk towards Alex. Ohhh, I was so mean. They must hate me now. Rumil didn’t deserve that.

Alex greets me with a smile, so at odds with the turmoil raging within me. I sit, leaning my back against the tree. The main camp is well within my eyesight, and Orophin and Haldir stare at me. Rumil avoids my gaze, intently reorganizing his pack. Haldir catches my eye and raises a stern eyebrow, looking pointedly to his youngest brother and then back at me.

I feel a little nauseous.

I turn my gaze away, as well as my back, lying down and curling up facing the tree. “Goodnight.”

I hear the surprise in Alex’s voice. “You don’t want dinner? There’s meat tonight.”

“No.” Again, sharpness creeps into my tone. Regret twists in my stomach. I don’t feel okay. I don’t feel right at all. The tears come, and I curl further into myself, trying my best to hide the noise and the shaking. I don’t want them to know because they’re kind and they’ll try to make me feel better.

I don’t deserve to be comforted.

And, given how I feel, how the grief and indecision and anxiety tear me apart, I’m not sure they could even help.

{***}

Everyone pretty much gives me a wide berth in the morning. Even Alex, who doesn’t stray far from my side, doesn’t try to talk to me. I do my chores in silence, not feeling very social. The horses had grazed a bit during the night, though not far from Baranor’s watchful eye, and I climb over the hill to join them in the valley. Roch, used to me by now, trots up to meet me, nuzzling at my hands in the hope that I’ve brought him food. This makes me feel even worse, as I hadn’t thought to bring him a snack.

“Sorry, Horse.” I reach up to pet his nose, then let my fingers tangle in his mane, examining the braids Rumil put there.

“It’s not safe to be out here on your own.”

Though the voice is quiet, I start, not having heard Haldir come up on my left.

I take a few breaths to calm my racing heart. “The others do this all the time.”

Haldir exhales contemplatively, taking Roch’s muzzle in his hands and brushing his thumb over the soft hairs there. “The others are extensively skilled in battle and are aware of their surroundings. You are a human with no weapons who just let me sneak up on her.”

I click my tongue, playing for time. He’s got me there. “When you say ‘extensively skilled’…how extensive are you talking?”

He smiles almost indulgently. “Thousands of years.”

I gulp and renew my efforts brushing through Roch’s mane. I cannot wrap my mind around such a long time, nor reconcile it with Haldir’s smooth face. “So…that would make you…?”

“Three thousand, six hundred and thirty five years old.”

I exhale, leaning forward into Roch’s mane.

“Are you alright?”

I twist my head to see a small amount of humor dance in his eyes, and I let my exasperation be known. “That’s impossible. There’s no way someone can be over three thousand years old.”

He shrugs, calling for his own horse, Faervel, to join us. “Impossible for a human, maybe, but elves are made to live eternal lives. You and your friend are still new to this world, but you will soon catch on to its workings. Keep your eyes open—there is much to learn.”

At the mention of Alex, I purse my lips, turning my focus back to Roch. I work the bit into his mouth and try to persuade him to lower his head so I can throw the bridle over. He doesn’t budge, leaving me to contemplate the merits of jumping to accomplish my task. After a moment, a pale hand and a worn blue tunic come into my view. I step to the side, allowing Haldir and his height to finish tacking the horse. When he’s done, he turns to me, still holding the reins in his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Uh oh. I try to match his unaffected air. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He raises an eyebrow. There’s no judgement in his eyes, but he stares into mine like he’s systematically assessing every though I’ve ever had, every decision I’ve ever made, and determining the clarity with which I will make decisions in the future. I fight the urge to look away, feeling my cheeks go hot.

“You snapped at Rumil and cried most of the night.”

“Ugh,” I close my eyes, turning my head from his scrutiny. I take a beat, trying to push away the onslaught of embarrassment. “I didn’t know you guys heard that.”

“The exchange with Rumil happened in front of everybody.”

“The crying, I mean,” I interject, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing. I hate this. I hate the way his eyes burn into mine, trying to lure me into a vulnerable conversation. I feel myself tensing up. I try to force my shoulders to fall from their spot bunched up by my neck. “It’s nothing.”

He stares me down for a moment, not even bothering to disguise the fact that he doesn’t believe me. But finally, he nods, evidently letting it go. He hands me Roch’s reins. “I expect we will reach the mountains either this evening or tomorrow morning. The closer we get, the more dangerous our journey becomes. I understand you are sensitive, but you must clear your mind and focus on the journey. You can deal with your feelings once we reach Imladris.” With that, he takes the reins of Faervel and jerks his head, beckoning me to follow him.

I huff, starting after him, completely incensed. What did he just say? “I am not sensitive!”

He throws a wry smile over his shoulder. “Forgive me, you obviously took my comment quite well.”

Grumbling, I pull Roch with me and stomp after Haldir. Maybe I won’t miss his friendship.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are the best :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3! That will notify you automatically when I post there.

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wisdom-walks-alone · 3 years

Text

"It all just feels like too much, all the time." Damian rests his cheek on his knees, hugging his legs with one arm and picking the pills off the couch cushion with his free hand. "I just want to go back to not feeling anything at all."

"That's totally understandable. When you're feeling overwhelmed, it's normal to just want everything to go away. But feeling can be a good thing. It means that you're alive."

Damian huffs. "What if I don't want to be alive?" He pauses, as does Dinah's writing. "That came out wrong. I don't want to die or anything, and it's not like I'm too eager to go back to Hell."

Dinah adjusts herself in her seat, leaning forward a little. "And what makes you so sure you'd go to Hell?"

Something in Damian's body tenses, but he doesn't let it show. What, you think you're a bad person? Boohoo, you're not, so suck it up already.

He shrugs. Dinah doesn't push. It's one of the things he likes about her.

He doesn't have to hide anything from her. Not in the secret identities and sketchy backgrounds kind of way. She knows his past and she knows his present. She knows them probably better than anyone. Yet there are things that he still can't bring himself to admit. There's something about saying things out loud that make them real, and then you have to face them. To bare your feelings to one person is to bare them to the whole world. Damian's seen a lot of things in his life and still nothing terrifies him as much as that.

And sometimes it just sounds so ridiculous. And he feels ridiculous saying it. He's embarrassed, and isn't that just the icing on the cake?

But Dinah never judges. He knows she won't ever judge him. But he's still always afraid to say it.

He can run straight into the line of fire and jump off a hundred-story buildings, but he's still a fucking coward.

Dinah would tell him otherwise. That's why he doesn't say it out loud.

"How are your brothers?" Dinah asks.

Grateful for the change of subject, Damian briefly glances up at her. "Jason's a dick, as always. Dick isn't a dick. Tim is also a dick, but not in the same way that Jason is. I think on some level he kind of understands." He turns his head, hugging his legs tighter. "He's…trying. They all are."

"It's nice that they're trying," Dinah says. "And your father?"

Damian bites his cheek. "He's trying, too. I know he is." He has to remind himself of it sometimes, and sometimes it's hard to believe. "But it's…hard. For him."

"How so?"

"Just… He wants to understand, and he's trying to, he just…can't. And I don't have the words to help him understand."

Dinah nods sagely. "That must be frustrating."

"Yeah." Damian goes back to picking at the pills on the couch. "It's just—I know he's trying his best. It just feels like his best isn't good enough. And that feels so shitty, because you can't ask for someone to do more than their best."

"You don't have to be sorry for how you feel," Dinah tells him. "Your feelings are real and they're valid. It's completely fair of you to feel like you're not getting what you need."

"I guess."

"You're not selfish for having needs, Damian."

"It's selfish when your needs get in the way of what other people need."

"You're just trying to survive and thrive. There's nothing wrong with that. Your needs are just as important as anyone else's."

“But they’re valid, too,” Damian insists. “They’re valid in what they’re doing, how can I be upset with them for that?”

“You aren’t responsible for how other people make you feel, Damian.”

Damian doesn't reply to that. He looks away.

Dinah sits up, leaning forward in her seat. "You're a good person, Damian. You're not a bad person for having these feelings, and you shouldn't feel guilty for having them either. Instead, try being proud of yourself for recognizing that what you want might not be something you should act on."

Damian scoffs. "I have enough pride."

"Then you have plenty to spare."

Damian looks at her, deadpan. Dinah remains unwavering. Finally, he lets out a disgruntled sigh. "I guess."

Dinah smirks at her victory, tapping the back end of her pen absently on her notepad. A moment passes, then she asks, “How’s school?” Damian gives her a look, as if she even needs to ask to know that it sucks absolute balls. She just raises an eyebrow in challenge, and Damian huffs as he relents.

“Honestly, it’s been kind of hard. I can understand everything easily enough, but concentrating and keeping up with the work are difficult. Getting to and staying in school is hard, too. Father’s worried about my grades, so he’s been on top of me more about all that stuff.” He scoffs. “I know he’s right, but it just feels overbearing and all around frustrating, and it really just makes me want to do work and go to school less.”

“You have always had an opposition to authority,” Dinah remarks sagely. “You don’t like being told what to do.”

Damian squirms. He knows she’s right. It’s not something he’s ever been ignorant to, in fact he usually embraces this trait of his. He just feels weird about it in this particular situation.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Of course I have,” Damian shoots back. “He never listens.”

Dinah nods. “Communication is hard. Your father has never been good at that. Stubborn as ever, he is.”

“Tell me about it. Every time I try to tell him how frustrating it is he just goes on his spiel about how it’s just because he cares about me and is worried for my future. It’s not like I couldn’t just forge any degree I want to get a job if I wanted to.”

“But your father has more integrity than that,” Dinah points out. “And so do you.” A pause. “Would you rather he not care at all?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Damian purses his lips. “Well…maybe just for this one thing… I don’t know, it just feels like it’d be easier sometimes. If he didn’t care. Stopped getting in my way.”

“You don’t want him to stop caring about you, though.”

“If he really cares about me then maybe he should listen to what I have to say.”

Dinah nods. “I agree. But it’s not always that simple.”

“I know.” A silence lulls over them, and Damian squirms a bit as he tries to grasp for something to fill it with. “I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed lately, but there isn’t really anything to be overwhelmed about. Every time I have a mental break there’s just a bigger mental break.”

“We all have a different threshold for what we can handle,” Dinah tells him, “and we all have different ways of dealing with things. What you’re overwhelmed by just might not be apparent.” She pauses, then adds, “Have you talked to anyone else about how you’ve been feeling? Your friends, your brothers, your sister?”

“I feel like I do that enough here.”

Dinah smiles sadly. “I will always be here for you, Damian, gladly, but you need other people outside of me and these sessions.” Damian folds his arms over his chest, a pout forming. “Can you try to think of someone you can go to?”

Damian thinks for a second. “I could talk to Cass.” He smiles a little. “She’s a good listener.”

“That’s good,” Dinah says. “That’s a good place to start. Is there anyone else? You have to have more than just one person.”

Damian’s eyebrows knit and he draws his knees closer to his chin. He shrugs.

“I know it’s scary, relying on people, but it’s something that’s necessary to live a healthy life. And you deserve to have people you can rely on when you need to, and not just out on the streets. You deserve to not be alone.”

Damian shifts, hides his face in his arms to hide the tears that escape at her words. He wipes them on his sleeves as he looks up. “There’s Dick. I think I can talk to Dick. Yeah, I can do that.”

Dinah smiles. “Good. You deserve to have a good support system, and you know I’ll always be part of it too.”

Damian glances up at her face briefly. “I know.”

Dinah smiles again as she glances at the clock. “It looks like we’re out of time for today. It was good talking to you, Damian.”

Damian sits up, putting his feet back on the floor. “You, too. Thank you,” he says, standing up.

“Of course. I’ll see you next week.”

“Yeah, see you next week.”

#tw mental health #my fics #jay writes #dc #dc comics #damian wayne #dinah lance #vent fic #damian kinnie writes about damian going to therapy

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