#fanfic of the seven year gap
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“Hey There, Trucy”
A story about the seven year gap and an exploration of a drastic change in parenting for Trucy.
Prologue:
In another story maybe Phoenix would have been more cautious. But it has been 2 years since he’s had his badge and he wants this investigation to be over with. He wants to be free to visit his friends without the ever present state of suspicion all around him. He wants Kristoph in jail and his life to be whole again.
In another story maybe he would have been more attentive to things around him. But he’s exhausted from a late night at the Borscht Bowl where some of the patrons got just a bit too rowdy if the bruises from the fight were anything to go by. They weighed him down with just another layer of pain because he was in no mental shape to get over his fear of medicine to try and ease the burden.
In another story maybe Kristoph wouldn’t have come to visit. But he was able to get the last trial settled earlier than expected due to a shock confession from a witness. His client got off the hook much faster than he would have thought, and with very little effort on his part, meaning he could work on some of his other “projects”.
In another story maybe he wouldn’t have thought to try and speed things up. After all, it would be bad to go too fast into something without taking proper precautions. But Phoenix isn’t the only one getting tired of the cat and mouse game, and he recently got his hands on something that could end this without a hitch.
But it’s only in another story that that is the case. Because this “brand new thing” is actually rather old, falling well past the expiration date. Even if you drank all of it, it wouldn’t be able to simulate a perfect heart attack as it has been advertised to him. So only relying on a smudge is a fools choice that can only send someone to the hospital at best.
It’s in this story that all of this comes to a head with a knock to the Wright Talent Agency’s door.
Fake smiles and beating around the bush appear in many stories, and this one is no different. Phoenix lets him inside, comforted by the fact that Trucy is away at school just in case something does happen. He doesn’t let up his constant attention on the other man despite how tired he is of all of this. He may want it to be over, but he isn’t a quitter.
Kristoph, meanwhile, is scouting out the perfect place and time to leave the solution to his problems. He watches the other man as intently as he is watched, waiting for an opening that might not even appear. He stays in the kitchen all the same just in case.
In another story, Trucy would have listened to her father about not leaving her books on the floor.
It is only as Phoenix has completely fallen over, igniting all the bruises in his body, and started silently cursing that Kristoph strikes, leaving his perfect plan on the prongs of a fork. One of the few currently clean fork in the apartment. It is only a matter of time now before it ends up completing the job.
It takes him much longer to get up than normal. His body and soul is worn and he just wants to rest. But when he stands up he is reminded that there is no rest for the weary or the wicked, and he has to simply continue on.
In another story it would worry him at just how easy it was to get the other man to leave before Trucy came back. But they had been talking about the case that went so perfectly and Phoenix knew he would probably want to scope out for a new case like a bloodhound looking for prey. So he didn’t think as much of it as he really should.
And all thoughts about that interaction left his mind when his daughter came home from school.
And all thoughts of worry were quashed for the moment as he worked on dinner for her and lunch for himself.
And all thoughts of his weariness were replaced by thoughts of needing to do the dishes, but there were still clean plates and forks so they will use those and he will wash everything after.
And everything was smiles and laughter as she told him about today’s class and how her teacher got upset for her turning her classmates pencils to rubber.
And everything was concerned looks and furrowed brows as she became paler and paler.
And everything was running feet and gaging into the toilet as she was overcome by a sudden illness.
And everything was hurried phone calls and sirens as she started to drift into the darkness.
And everything was black.
#plaid posts#Hey There Trucy#Phoenix Wright#Trucy Wright#Kristoph Gavin#ace attorney#fanfic of the seven year gap#I haven’t actually played Apollo Justice so I don’t know much about Kristoph#so this could be horribly ooc#I just wanted to write about Phoenix trying to take care of his daughter halfway across the world and this is how I thought to set it up#I don’t know how much I’ll write of this because I haven’t written anything besides this yet#but I probably will write more cause I am bored#hey if ao3 being attacked is the only way to force me to actually write stuff than I’m gonna use my time well
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Red-Ribbon Wrist
1956:
Leonardo hated getting lost. Even with all the lights, it was spooky, roaming around this place. There were too many dark corners and there had been plenty reports of fighting going on between Ryan and Fontaine. Leonardo didn’t want to be caught between their gangs if he could help it.
As he turned the corner, Leonardo paused. It was a Big Daddy and a Little Brother, from what he could tell. He didn’t know much about them, only that they were to be avoided at all costs, but he saw them around often. Big Daddies tended to either accompany Little Brothers or Sisters, or they went out on their own to fix Rapture.
And, in a weird way, they fascinated Leonardo. He wanted to know how they worked and why they protected Little Brothers and Sisters. It wasn’t like Big Daddies were related to their charges. You couldn’t really tell, though, what with the diving suit covering them and all, but Leonardo had a feeling. He just wished they could talk so he could ask them things, but alas.
“Hello?” He froze. Having been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t seen the Little Brother notice him, and now the boy was approaching. The Big Daddy growled slightly but the boy stuck his tongue out at the giant and kept coming forward. Eventually, the dark-haired boy came to a stop in front of Leonardo and beamed.
“Hi!” He held out his hand, “I’m Ezio!”
“Uh,” The elder glanced at the Big Daddy before he shook hands, “I’m Leonardo.”
“That’s a pretty name!”
“T-thanks...” Leonardo blushed. He took note of the Little Brother and realized that Ezio was young enough that he could have been considered Leonardo’s own younger brother. The two of them looked nothing alike, but Ezio couldn’t have been more than nine while Leonardo was sixteen. He was a very raggedy nine-year-old in torn trousers and a white shirt dirtied with a dark red substance, but a nine-year-old nonetheless. And yet the glowing yellow eyes and the syringe in his hand marked him as a Little Brother, someone to not be approached unless you had lost your mind or were mad with Adam Fever, probably both.
“So, what are you doing down here?” Ezio tucked his long hair over his shoulder.
“I kinda...got lost.” Leonardo admitted. He didn’t mind admitting his faults, but he had a feeling Ezio wouldn’t tease him for it. He just didn’t seem like that kind of kid.
“Ohhh.” Ezio nodded, “That’s okay! Mr. Bubbles knows the way out of here.” The Big Daddy moaned in response. Seeing as Leonardo was posing no threat to Ezio, it seemed like the giant of a man had calmed down. Then Ezio tugged on Leonardo’s hand and he was dragged along for the ride, following the Big Daddy down the sunken halls. He had no idea where they were going, but he was already lost, so it wasn’t like it really mattered.
Eventually, they did come across a place he recognized. It was Fort Frolic and Leonardo began to smile. He absolutely loved Fort Frolic. It was really the only place he got to be himself, with his paintings and inventions and everything else he loved to work on. If they were in Fort Frolic, his home couldn’t be too far.
“I think this is good.” he said, tugging his hand out of Ezio’s grip, “I know where I am now. I should be able to get home just fine. Thanks for your help, Ezio.”
“No trouble.” The boy pushed his hair out of his face again. He had done it a lot on the walk over. Clearly his hair was too long for him to deal with.
“Why don’t you cut your hair if it keeps getting in your way like that?” Leonardo asked.
“I don’t like it short.” was Ezio’s answer. Leonardo frowned. He glanced down at his wrist. Recently, for his birthday, one of his presents had been wrapped up in red silk ribbon, and he had kept a piece of it for himself. Maybe the ribbon could help Ezio with his hair troubles.
“If you’ll let me,” Leonardo knelt down and untied the ribbon from his wrist, “I think I know how to solve your problem.”
“Really?” Ezio asked. The childish wonder he was exhibiting never failed to make Leonardo smile.
“Yeah. I’m just going to use this ribbon to tie your hair back.” He glanced at Mr. Bubbles again, “I mean, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is!” Ezio exclaimed. Leonardo still waited for the Big Daddy to give the go ahead, though. When Mr. Bubbles nodded, Leonardo set to work, pulling Ezio’s long hair back into a tiny ponytail. Once it was all back there, he secured it with the ribbon. Now he could actually see Ezio’s face in its entirety, and he had to admit, the Little Brother looked adorable.
“There.” Leonardo pulled his hands away, “Now your hair won’t be in your eyes.” Ezio blinked. He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to dislodge the ribbon, and Leonardo exclaimed, “What are you doing?!”
“Testing it!” Ezio explained, stopping his shaking to give the elder a smile, “It’s cool!”
“I guess? Just- Be careful with it, please. If you break it, it’s not like I can replace it.” Silk was expensive down here, whether or not it was in ribbon form. Stupid embargoes...
“Alright.” Ezio nodded. His hands went back to touch his tiny ponytail in curiosity. The armored man gave a moan, almost as if in agreement. Ezio’s smile went wider, “Mr. Bubbles likes it!”
“I’m glad he does.” Leonardo smiled back, “How can you understand him?”
“I don’t. But I can tell what he’s feeling.” The younger boy looked up at his protector, “If I like something, he usually likes it, too. Right Mr. Bubbles?” The armored man nodded.
“Leonardo!” He recognized that voice. He hadn’t realized they’d come looking for him, maybe he’d stayed out later than he thought. He turned. There were his parents, but they were keeping their distance. They looked scared, almost. He wondered why. Mr. Bubbles started to growl and gently tugged Ezio closer. It seems their brief meeting was coming to an end.
“Come here, bambino!” cried his mother. If she was using Italian, that meant Leonardo was in serious trouble.
“What does that mean?” Ezio asked, “That word, bambino.”
“It’s Italian. It means child or baby, but like for a boy.”
“Ohhh.” Ezio nodded.
“Leonardo!” stressed his mother. He winced.
“I’ve gotta go now, okay?” he said, “I promise to come back.”
“Pinky promise?” Ezio held out his hand. Leonardo linked his pinky with the other boy’s.
“Pinky promise.” he affirmed. Ezio smiled.
-----------------------------------------
1966:
Leonardo opened his eyes, feeling Ezio’s hair curled in his fingers.
“What’s wrong, Leo? You’ve been quiet.” Ezio murmured. His arms were curled around Leonardo’s waist and his glowing yellow eyes were cutting through the darkness, shining light on the opposite wall.
“Just remembering.” responded the older man, “Of when we first met and I gave you your hair ribbon.”
“Ah.” Ezio nodded against his back, “That was a good day.”
“Yeah.” Leonardo agreed, “But you should’ve seen my parents afterward. They were like ghosts, ‘cause they thought I was gonna be taken away from them or something for spending time with you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Can you blame them? You were a Little Brother, Ezio. That’s terrifying for any parent to think about.”
“Mmm.” A pause, “Maybe so, but you weren’t in danger with me and Mr. Bubbles. Everything was fine.”
“I know, but they didn’t. Think about this from their perspective. What if you lost me for good after I spent time with someone else?”
Ezio’s breath caught. Leonardo felt his grip tighten and he winced at the pressure. It wasn’t painful, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
“I thought I lost you for good after I didn’t see you again.” he whispered.
“Then you get it.”
“Yeah. I guess I do.” Ezio buried his face in Leonardo’s hair, relaxing his grip. The blond man curled his fingers through Ezio’s hair, careful not to tug it out of its ponytail. A lot had changed between now and then, and Leonardo was still fascinated by Ezio. There was so much he still wanted to know, about Little Sisters and Little Brothers and Big Daddies and everything in between, like the Big Brothers and Big Sisters.
But that could wait. For now, basking in Ezio’s arms was all Leonardo wanted.
#my post#ezioleo#ezio auditore#leonardo da vinci#assassin's creed#assassinscreedseries#fanfic#the more you know#I didn't realize they had a seven-year age gap but now I do#BioShock AU#kind of a long drabble under the cut#bioshock
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older
think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders
synopsis: all your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, the handsome older man you've known since forever, but you just can't seem to let him go.
word count: 18k
pairing: older!jungkook x afab reader
genre: age gap au (seven years), social media au!!!, childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes
warnings: character death (not jk or y/n), cursing, nudity,
author's note: i am so overwhelmed with the support i've gotten for this fic!! obviously this isn't going to be the best written fanfic, but i genuinely enjoyed writing it!! and yes, there will be a part 2!
PART 1 | PART 2
“Girl.. be for real. He doesn’t want you.” Beomgyu’s opinion bounces off your bedroom wall but shoots into your heart like an arrow; you subtly glare at him through your vanity mirror. Though, the Snorlax plush headband and unblended concealer in triangles under your eyes is far less than intimidating.
“Okay, fuck you-”
Beomgyu shrugs. “You can wear all the makeup in the world and you would never get his attention,” he nonchalantly utters, not caring enough to even look at you while he addresses you. You pout, sulking as Beomgyu’s very real assertion settles into your system.
Jeon Jungkook would never see you that way.
He adores you because you’ve been acquainted since childhood- your parents being close friends. He’s seven years older than you and has witnessed you blossom from a childish boy-crazy kid to an equally boy-crazy adult, the same way you’ve seen him go from a prepubescent pre teen to a hot, older, rich, man.
“Look, and that’s not to say that you’re not pretty or whatever because you are pretty and a lot of guys want you, but Jungkook… he’s just too old for you,” he offers you an empathetic smile before attempting to assuage the petulance in the air. “Honestly, I would be even more concerned if he responded to your advances because that would be.. hella weird.”
Beomgyu’s claims often transform your brain into a philosophical battlefield. Would it really be all that inappropriate for Jungkook to see you as a woman? An age gap of seven years holds no real significance if you were both in your 20’s, right? But does Jungkook knowing you since childhood completely nullify any chance you have with him?
“Oh fuck off with that. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m already 19 years old, almost 20-”
“The delusion is never escaping this one…” Beomgyu mumbles. He finally looks up from his phone when you spring up from your chair and stomp over to him. You hold your manicured claw up to scratch his face, but Beomgyu grabs your wrist before you can do any damage.
“You’re such a horse girl, don’t try to scratch me- wait are you crying?” Beomgyu’s gaze melts after noticing the tears accumulating in your waterline.
“No!” you respond, the tip of your nose becoming slightly red. You raise your sleeve to wipe your nose.
“Wait Y/N! You’re going to get makeup all over my hoodie!-”
Beomgyu halts when he sees your unblended concealer transfer onto his very white and expensive hoodie. His lips form into a straight line while he stares at you blankly.
“Sorry?” you squeak. He gestures dramatically- blinking at you like a pissed off owl.
…
…
…
You bolt to the door, sprinting from Beomgyu before he quickly follows in pursuit of you. You run through the house, tumbling down the stairs frantically, and when you turn the corner, you stub your toe against the wall, stumbling over and falling flat on your face.
You shriek in pain, holding onto your toe. Your eyes immediately tear up, sobbing through the pain blistering in your toe. And for some reason, Beomgyu is nowhere to be found.
“Y/N? Are you okay?”
You freeze when none other than Jungkook pops out of his room, completely shirtless with nothing but gray sweats on. His abs are literally ripping in your face and his entire sleeve of beautiful tattoos are practically mocking you- especially the mask one. It's laughing in your face because it gets to be on Jungkook’s body and you don’t.
You begin to cry even harder. No physical pain would ever compare to the pain of not being able to have him.
“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Jungkook kneels down and takes your foot in his large hands.
Thank God you got your toes done the day before. His thumbs press into the balls of your feet while he carefully inspects your toes. “Not fractured, I think. Think you can get up, baby?”
Baby. He’s been calling you that stupid nickname since forever. That’s what everybody used to call you when you were younger; you were the youngest of all your parents’ friends’ kids after all. But for some reason, the nickname only seemed to stick with Jungkook. He has this horrible tendency (not really) of doting on you, taking care of you, and spoiling you to oblivion.
You sniffle, shaking your head.
Jungkook’s handsome face crinkles into a subtle laughter, an amused expression etched onto his features. He takes his pointer finger and thumb, pinching your nostrils and wiping your snot onto his sweats.
You smile sheepishly, butterflies erupting in your stomach.
This man will literally touch your feet and boogers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. That has to mean something, right?
Jungkook scoops you into his arms bridal style and takes you into his room.
Why Jungkook has a room in your house is beyond you. It seems like he was always over doing some errands for your parents- not that you were complaining, of course. He sets you down on his bed and uses his large palm to smooth over the frizzy hairs that are sticking up.
“Just stay here for a while. I’ll take you to Urgent Care if it hurts in a few hours.”
Truth be told, that shit didn’t even hurt anymore, but there’s no way you were going to pass this opportunity up. You nuzzle into Jungkook’s sheets, his masculine smell absolutely amplifying your will to live. His cologne smells so good, the musky elegance of his scent making you dizzy as you bask in his essence.
Anyways! Looks like you’re canceling your plans with Beomgyu. Apparently, he already knows that.
Shutting your phone off, your eyes drift towards Jungkook, owlishly blinking at the computer code projected onto his large monitor. He’s got everything going for him: rich, hot, smart, successful. You want to cry again. “Jungkook, can I ask you something?”
His focus remains on the screen, eyes still boring onto the monitor before he absentmindedly responds, “Sup?”
“What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla just walked into this room right now?”
Jungkook’s fingers pause, hovering above his light up keyboard. He swivels around in his chair, his handsome features crinkling in evident confusion.
“I’m serious. What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla showed up in your room? If you aren’t able to answer the question, then I don’t really know if I feel safe here,” you elaborate as you gesture with your hands, the bratty tone laced in your voice attempting to guilt trip him for not having a backup plan for this very specific specific situation.
“Easy. I would feed you to them and then escape,” Jungkook bites back a cheeky smile before spinning around and returning to his work.
You gasp dramatically, pouting before you pull his covers over your head.
Jungkook hums to himself, laughing at how obnoxious you can be.
Later on, another question is conjured in your imaginative little mind, and Jungkook’s lip twitches when he hears your classic Jungkook, I have another question.
“Hmmm?”
“Do you think you could put me on with your piercing guy?”
Jungkook swivels around in his chair once again. “Thought you already had your ears and belly pierced.”
“It’s not enough. I want more. Wanna be like you,” you murmur, eyes settling on his five piercings decorating his left lobe, the one in his eyebrow, and the two on his lips.
“It is enough,” he immediately counters, “You shouldn’t put holes in your body.”
You cock a brow at him. “I know you’re not talking.”
Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards at your cheekiness. “Yea, I’ll send you his instagram. Tell him you’re with me and he’ll squeeze you in as soon as possible.”
-
“And I told Soobin to not piss in the water bottle, but he did anyway. And guess what? I almost drank from the same water bottle. Can you believe that? I was so fucking pissed at him I almost threw his piss back on him…” Yeonjun can tangibly feel that you’re not all there, your eyes occasionally drifting off- so his eyes follow your train of vision until-
“Oh c’mon Y/N!” Yeonjun’s fingers release the grip on the gym equipment, causing the weights to thunderously slam back into place. You yelp, flinching a bit before you swat Yeonjun’s biceps.
“You scared me you bitch!”
“You scare me! And what the fuck are you wearing? What kind of basic bitch wears a pink set to the gym?”
You gasp dramatically. “You did not just say that.”
“And stop drooling over Jungkook! He doesn’t want you-mmmphh!” You clasp your palm over Yeonjun’s mouth mid-sentence, your boba eyes glaring up at him. You release your hand, pouting at him dramatically when you feel you’ve tortured him enough.
Hands on your hips, you continue glowering at him and he gladly reciprocates the scowl on your lips.
Yeonjun acquiesces from the glare-off almost immediately, too entirely soft to hold a grudge against his best friend. “Did you only agree to come to the gym with me to see Jungkook?” he asks, sincere disappointment laced in his words.
You immediately soften, disheartened to hear the crestfallenness in his tone. You shake your head at the notion. “No- I wouldn’t do that. I swear he’s here by coincidence,” you explain thoughtfully, “I’m sorry for being an inattentive friend. It wasn’t intentional. I just get distracted whenever I see him. I’m sorry.” Your eyes return to Yeonjun’s who smiles knowingly at you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace and you gladly accept, hugging all the problems away.
“You’re such a lovestruck girl,” Yeonjun teases.
“I can’t help it. He just looks so good. Look at his arms and his tattoos- oh Yeonjun, I’ll never get over him. What should I do?”
“We just have to kill him. That’s the only option left,” your eyes meet his, his empty gaze boring into your skull before you both burst into giggles.
“You’re right. That is the only option left.” You take a step back to stretch your arms, releasing the tension in your limbs until you sense a very familiar walking pattern approaching you.
“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook casually greets, creeping behind you to wrap a single arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer to him from behind, nonchalantly nuzzling his forehead into the back of your head. You use both your hands to grip onto his thick forearm. “Um, hey Kook.”
Yeonjun bites back laughter, watching how you practically become hysterical at Jungkook’s casual gesture.
Jungkook uses his vacant hand to dap up Yeonjun- over your head. “What’s up Yeonjun?” Jungkook grins. Yeonjun reciprocates the friendly greeting. “Hey, how’ve you been? You looked great with the tricep presses.”
Jungkook beams at that. “Oh, you saw? I’ve been bulking so I’m trying to go super heavy with the weights.”
“I can tell. You look fucking enormous,” Yeonjun comments.
Jungkook immediately dismisses the compliment with a wave. “Don’t say that. You look good too…”
Tuning out of the interaction, your brain begins to malfunction when you realize that Jungkook is extremely familiar with all of your friends. You definitely aren’t the most social person, often opting to napping in your cozy bed instead of going into the harsh, unforgiving world, but you are lucky enough to have great friends like Yunjin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Jungkook knows all of them. That had to be indicative of something deeper, right? Perhaps his underlying affection for you? Or a sign that he was possibly in love with you?
“What are you giggling about?” Jungkook teases, gently using his vacant hand to ruffle your hair.
You crimson intensely. “Nothing,” you sheepishly respond, skitterishly ducking under Jungkook’s arm to scurry behind Yeonjun, using your friend as a protective shield.
“What’s up with her?” Jungkook asks Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun feigns ignorance. “Not a clue.”
“Well then, I’m gonna head out. I’m actually staying at Y/N’s for a bit because her parents are out of town. Can you believe I still have to babysit her?” Jungkook says to Yeonjun, giving you a teasing glance.
“It’s just in case someone stalks me or tries to kill me! I don’t need to be babysat,” you emphasize, scowling at Jungkook and he can’t help but to reach out and pinch your cheek. The casual gesture sends you over the moon.
“Whatever you say. You need a ride home though? I can wait so Yeonjun doesn’t have to waste gas on you,” Jungkook suggests, eyes darting towards yours then Yeonjun’s to detect any traces of reticence or hesitation in his features.
You do the same, glancing towards Yeonjun who actually sports a look of indifference. You playfully link your arms with Yeonjun’s before sending Jungkook a downward smile. “It’s okay Kook. Wanna spend time with my friend today.”
A touched gasp leaves Yeonjun’s lips as he holds his hand over his heart, gesticulating dramatically to convey his surprise that you would choose him over the man you’ve been salivating over the past thirty minutes.
Jungkook has no protests about your preference. “Alright Y/N, see you at home. See you Yeonjun,” he gives you a little squeeze before he departs.
Yeonjun waits until Jungkook is out of ear shot to provoke you, mocking you in an obnoxious, high pitched voice, “I don’t need to be babysat! You’re such a baby- but thank you for choosing me, you know.”
You tilt your head, eyebrows pinching before you subtly frown at Yeonjun’s comment. “Of course I would choose you. You’re my friend.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world- because it kinda is. Bros over hoes any day.
Yeonjun’s lips quirk up at the sentiment, “Oh how touching, thank you so much for gracing me with your presence, my queen.”
-
Jungkook thinks you can be such a princess sometimes, especially when you drag your feet back into the house, a sour expression consuming your pretty features. Particularly receptive to your emotional fluctuations, he doesn’t hesitate to ask you what’s up.
He leans against the kitchen counter, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as his eyes settle on your moping figure. “Who made you sad? Bring them to me right now,” he muses.
You pause, letting your light green gym bag (with little Snorlax’s decorated all over it) fall to the floor with a thud before gazing at him with a vacuous expression. “Why are you dressed up?” you point towards his work attire- a simple white button up and slacks. The buttons on his dress shirt are undone and messy, giving you access to his chest and it makes you want to roll around on the floor and cry. His slacks are tight- accentuating his long, muscular legs and you decide that you’d be okay with dying only if you were suffocated between his thighs.
“Had a work call,” he responds, indifference laced in his voice, “Now who made you sad? Want oppa to handle it for you?” he teases, releasing a breathless laugh at the way your nose scrunches up in disgust.
Nonetheless, you spill everything to Jungkook- because you always spill everything to Jungkook and because you trust him with everything in you. He makes you feel safe. Plopping yourself down on the seat by the dining counter, you wordlessly slide your phone across the counter. Jungkook effortlessly stops your phone with a single hand, his eyes scanning across the array of text messages popping up on the screen.
“Not this guy again,” he mutters under his breath, gauging the situation.
“I know!” you concede, “Wish he would leave me alone- but I feel like I have to respond.”
The text messages were from none other than your ex-boyfriend, telling you how much he misses you, how he’ll do better for you, and every other generic I want you back text in the book.
There are various reasons why you feel obligated to respond to him: (a) the whole breakup was a mess and (b) it was your fault. You were in a long-term, committed relationship with your high school sweetheart until you recognized your exponentially growing feelings for Jungkook. The guilt of breaking your ex’s heart haunts you- his crying, tear-stained face often popping up in your mind when you feel shitty, making you feel even shittier. Though you were no longer emotionally tied to him you do feel obligated to give him closure, or at the very least respond to his text messages.
But you’ve had this conversation with your ex numerous times. How much closure does one need in order to move on?
“You don’t have to respond to him,” Jungkook’s sonorous voice pulls you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. “You’ve already told him how you feel,” Jungkook is the rational force in your life, always tugging you towards the right direction, especially when your susceptible mind feels the need to please everyone and everything.
“I know,” you sigh, “I just feel bad. He was my first kiss, first boyfriend. It feels like I just abandoned him.”
A look of contemplation blankets Jungkook’s handsome face, evident by the way his fingers trace over his chin and lips. “That’s true,” he eventually asserts, “but no one as young as you should stay in a relationship out of obligation.” He approaches you and settles himself down on the vacant seat beside you. “Actually Y/N, I’m proud of you for building up the courage to let him go. It would be more painful if you forced yourself to stay.”
You purse your lips and nod, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation of Jungkook comfortingly rubbing your back. “t’s just sad. I used to love him.”
“I know Y/N, but sometimes you just have to start living in the present instead of the past. If you respond you’re just going to give him false hope. Just let it be,” he articulates, using prudence to assuage you.
You nod, craning your head to sustain eye contact with him, making the conversation feel all the more intimate and personal, “How would you feel if you were him? I mean- if your girlfriend broke up with you and you were still like- in love- with her?”
He tilts his head, thoroughly contemplating the question because he takes your feelings seriously, and he wants to give you the right answers. “If my girlfriend loses feelings then she loses feelings, there’s nothing I can do about it. I definitely wouldn’t beg for her back, I’d go out and make a lot of money instead,” he smiles, “But I wouldn’t know how it feels. I’ve never been dumped before,” he adds.
“Seriously?” you interject, not believing that Jungkook has never been dumped in his 26 years of living. “What about that one girl you brought to Thanksgiving Dinner a few years ago? What happened to her?”
“Ahh her?” he somewhat grimaces at the thought of his ex-girlfriend, “She was getting a little too suffocating so I let her go. She was really pissed off- tried to key my car and shit,” he states.
You gasp. His ex-girlfriend was so sweet to you- she even bought you a Snorlax plush keychain. But you can imagine Jungkook trying to hold her back while she jostles out of his grip, trying to key his car- his baby. “No way? If she ever comes back, just let me know. I’ll throw hands for you,” you enunciate, showing him your fists to which Jungkook just scoffs in amusement.
“Yea, I’ll definitely call you,” he remarks sarcastically before getting up, “So are you good, baby?” he asks, casually resting his hand on your shoulder, and you nod.
“‘M good. I’m not gonna respond to him.”
Jungkook’s lips quirk up at that. “Good.”
-
Jungkook is livid. You can tell by the way he spam calls you even after you repeatedly reject his calls. You quietly sneak out of the lecture hall and answer his call once you’ve reached the hallway.
“What? I’m in class,” you impatiently mutter.
“You’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?” he scoffs through the phone, “I canceled your appointment, by the way.”
The color drains from your face once you realize what this is about. “He told you?”
“You’re out of your fucking mind if you thought you could go through me to get your nipples pierced! I can’t believe you thought I would let you do that!”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?” you whisper shout into his phone, “I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want!”
“No you’re not. Baby, you can’t even drink,” he reiterates, a little more calmly this time.
“Who cares? You’re not my mom! I can do whatever I want. Even if it’s through someone else!” you bark back. The silence that ensues intimidates you.
“Baby.” His voice is low, and it’s kinda hot but you don’t pay attention to it because of how angry you are at him trying to monopolize your actions.
“I’m not a fucking baby anymore so stop calling me that!”
“You’re not a baby?” Jungkook laughs lowly into the phone, as if the claim itself is ridiculous.
“‘m not.” He can practically hear your pout through the phone.
“You can’t even get on a plane by yourself.”
You gasp at Jungkook’s low blow. That was one time. A month ago, you took a flight to Vegas for EDC to meet up with Yunjin, who flew out the day before you. But you had no clue how to check your bag in, and were far too intimidated to go through the security check by yourself. What if they thought your ID was fake? Or worse what if they sent you to jail? There was just no way you could go through by yourself.
You remember the way Jungkook shook his head at your preposterous notions but nonetheless still agreed to take care of you.
So Jungkook drove you to the airport, carried your bag for you, weighed it, and checked it in. He also stood with you for the entire thirty minute wait at security and only left the airport when called and told him you were waiting at the departure gate.
You don’t respond, and he takes it as an opportunity to further his point.
“That’s what I thought. End of story. You’re not getting it done.”
He hangs up and you blissfully sigh. This literally takes feminism back 32904098 years, but you kind of love a man that can put you in your place.
-
Jungkook goes to the gym everyday solely so he can beat the shit out of Taehyung and Mingyu, who get off on tormenting him for his extremely complex and profound feelings for you.
Hooking up to the bluetooth speaker and blaring the sound of police sirens, going “Ayo! He’s right here, officer!” every time they walk past a policeman- they even go as far as putting handcuffs on him while he sleeps- hooting and howling in laughter when Jungkook wakes with his hands restrained.
Initially, it made his intestines twist and turn with pure guilt, guilt about harboring feelings for you, the little girl who used to prance around his room and do cartwheels in futile attempts to impress him.
His friends make him feel like shit, but they’re his friends for a reason.
“Hey, so how’s Y/N?” Mingyu casually asks, sinking into the welcoming leather of Jungkook’s sleek, black sofa. He props his feet up on Jungkook’s coffee table- mahogany brown and custom designed to suit Jungkook’s meticulous and elegant taste.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at the nonchalance of the comment, half expecting Taehyung to pop out of nowhere in policeman cosplay, ready to put him in cuffs. “Why’re you asking?”
When Mingyu detects the hostility blanketing Jungkook’s features, his jaw drops in realization of the reality of the situation. “Wait.. you don’t take us seriously when we tease you about that shit, right?”
Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, settling beside Mingyu, chopsticks in hand as he blows on his ramen. “I mean, kinda. I feel guilty about it.”
Mingyu eyes his friend for a while, and Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Mingyu when he feels lasers boring holes into his skull. “What, asshole?”
“Ah, sorry man. I didn’t know it bothered you. I kind of thought it was a given that you and Y/N are cute together. Didn’t know the age gap bothered you.”
Oh.
Jungkook pauses, setting his sizzling ramen back into the plastic container instead of into his mouth, and Mingyu feels the need to further elaborate.
“I mean, you’re always helping her out, taking care of her, that’s pretty cute.”
Jungkook blinks at Mingyu, raking his tattooed hand through his hair. “Doesn’t that just make me look like a dumbass?” he mutters, before letting out a bitter, light-hearted laughter at the reality of his assertion.
His emotions for you run deep and intricate, but one thing remains unequivocally clear: he doesn't do these things because he expects something in return. That would be selfish. Obligation doesn't factor into his decisions either. Jungkook doesn't subscribe to such motivations when it comes to his personal life. He views it as unnecessary and cumbersome—except when it involves you. Whether it's looking after you, lending you money, helping you with homework, or driving you to the airport, he does it all because he genuinely loves you.
He acknowledges the peculiarity of his natural inclination to care for you. In the past, he's ended numerous relationships due to girls he found excessively clingy, suffocating, or overbearing, all attributes he easily uses to describe you- but he lives for that shit when it comes to you.
Mingyu’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What? That girl loves you, Jungkook. If she does good in school and gets rich, you’d be bathing in that shit,” Mingyu jokes, causing Jungkook to sputter out laughter at the absurd thought.
“Right now though?” Mingyu continues, “She wouldn’t be able to change your tire or some shit, but she brings you this sense of peace, and that’s something every guy needs in his girl.”
Jungkook pauses at that.
-
Jungkook is abruptly awoken by the blaring sound of his ringtone. Groggily, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, eyes barely open.
You, the only person that would call him at 3 in the morning, and you the only person he would answer at 3 in the morning.
Babysitting is the last word he would use to explain why he’s at your house right now. He’s at your house because, well, he would do anything for you, even if you aren’t aware of the lengths he would go to keep you satiated and happy.
He’s aware that men find you charming for your ditzy and oblivious nature, but Jungkook likes you regardless of whether or not you possess such an arbitrary trait. But it is true that there are a lot of things you aren’t aware of, like how utterly lovely you are. Jungkook knows you- sees how oblivious you are to the men who shamelessly ogle at you, or the boys who practically break their necks to get a glimpse at you.
You have this resonating effect on him. You drive him crazy and you don’t even know it.
Initially, Jungkook had never truly focused his attention on you, yet as time passed, an irresistible attraction began to pull him toward you. He vividly recalls an incident in particular that left him dumbfounded.
Jungkook’s mom visited yours to drop off some vegetable. Gifting fruits and vegetables from their gardens are the way the aunties demonstrate their love and appreciation for one another. Jungkook reckons you didn’t know he was there because you pranced down the stairs with the tiniest boy shorts and camisole top. Jungkook isn’t the type of man to become disoriented over the sight of a woman’s body, practically desensitized from all the women he’s been with, but he stiffens at your presence.
“Wow baby!” His mother giggles, using your classic nickname as she ogles you shamelessly, “You’re getting really sexy!”
She playfully nudges your mom, “Are you ready to have grandchildren?” The joke makes your mother roll her eyes, though a smile lingers on her lips, infinitely proud of her beautiful daughter.
“I wish someone would marry my daughter!” Your mom jests, “All she ever does is sleep! I just wish a man would even look her way!”
Jungkook’s eyebrows pinch in bewilderment. He knew your mother was only joking, teasing you as per usual- because clearly, you are captivatingly gorgeous. You make a sly comment in return to make his mom giggle, always so smooth and sociable with the old ladies.
Suddenly, you randomly swivel around, yelping at Jungkook’s presence. “Oh hey,” you greet, fidgeting in place, “I didn’t know you were here. Sorry- I should cover up a little.”
For the first time in his life Jungkook is speechless in front of you. You. You just look so pretty standing in front of him, your manicured fingers twirling a single strand of hair, gazing at him and gnawing your lips like he makes you nervous when in reality you make him tremble with just one look. It makes his chest tighten and he inhales deeply to compose himself.
“No. Not at all, you should be comfortable in your own home,” the smile he offers you is forced, polite, and you’re bewildered at the tension accumulating between you and him. Your eyes glint downward; you can’t even look at him, and suddenly a bold wave of impulsivity washes over you.
“Hey Jungkook, can we talk in the other room?”
Jungkook’s eyes flash towards his mother’s then rapidly back at you. Subconsciously, his eyes trace down your body and he feels like has to physically gouge his eyes out to prevent himself from looking.
“Yea, sure.”
He follows you upstairs into the guest room, taking extreme measures to keep his pupils focused on the ceiling lights above your head. However, his efforts work against him because the ceiling lights shine on you like a spotlight, illuminating your gorgeous figure as you make your way up the stairs.
Your fingers wrap around his forearm and you pull him into the room.
You waste no time getting straight to the point.“Jungkook, I think I’m pregnant.”
Jungkook blinks, processing what you just said. “Huh?”
You bite your lip anxiously, crossing your arms while you look down at your toes. “My period is late, and I don’t know what to do- you’re the only person I trust to talk about this.”
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confirm the sentiment. “You can trust me with anything. I’ll always take care of you- ‘m just a little shocked because I thought you were still a virgin.”
Gasping dramatically, you pout at him and stomp your foot. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
Yea, clearly not, he thinks. “Just act normal. After I drop my mom off at home I’ll come back with a pregnancy test.”
You nod and give him a downward smile. “Thanks- ‘m just really nervous and I hope I’m not pregnant because I don’t even remember who the dad is and-“
Jungkook frowns at that, perturbation morphing onto his features. “Y/N, you don’t remember who the dad is? Please don’t do that- only sleep with people you trust. Please.”
“I trust you.”
The words tumble from your lips immediately, before you can even process your thoughts. You clasp your hand over your mouth, a small gasp leaving your lips as you gaze up at him in pure horror.
Jungkook doesn’t know what to think- doesn’t even know if that was just a fragment of his imagination. He blinks at you, brain too fused to even conjure a proper response.
“Wait- I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out. At that moment, you give up on any attempt to salvage the situation and scurry out of the room, stumbling back down the stairs.
Jungkook runs his hands over his face.
He’s going to hell for the thoughts running through his mind.
Thank God you weren’t pregnant but after that night Jungkook just never looked at you as just a family friend. It’s complicated . It’s morally conflicting, and it frustrates Jungkook like nothing else.
“Hello?” he speaks into the phone
“I bled on my bed,” you sniffle into the phone, “Just please come upstairs,” you say before abruptly hanging up.
He begrudgingly rises from his bed. Though tired, he doesn’t hesitate to throw his black t-shirt over his head to look presentable for when he checks up on you. Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweats as he makes his way up the stairs. He gently opens the door to see you sitting idly under your covers, clinging onto your Snorlax plushie for dear life. You’re wearing
He sits on the edge of your bed. “You ran out of pads?”
You don’t say anything, remaining stiff like an ice sculpture, not melting under Jungkook’s warm touch like you usually do.
He nods at you and gently tugs on your oversized T-shirt, urging you to get up as he sticks out his hand. “Change the sheets and I’ll go out and buy you some pads-“
“Jungkook, I'm in love with you.”
Abrupt.
Impulsive.
Messy.
But you feel like you just have to say it. With a radiant glow on your rosy cheeks, you purse your lips in a demure manner, physically unable to look at him. You have to look at Snorlax to get your words out instead.
You inhale deeply. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry if it creeps you out but I’ve always had feelings for you- and I hate you for it because I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to love anyone else like I love you.” With glossy eyes you finally peer at him just to see an entirely indecipherable expression- you’re not sure if it conveys shock, bewilderment, or horror but it evokes the most unsettling and humiliating sensation in the pit of your stomach.
Just as day transforms into night, humiliation morphs into anger, and anger morphs into nonsensicality. Outrage bubbles within you and you chuck the Snorlax plushie at his face.
“Fuck you! How can you treat me the way you do and expect me not to feel anything?! I emotionally cheated on my ex with you! You’re the fucking worst and I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” Your hands frantically search for every single squishmallow, plushie, and teddy bear you have and you violently chuck your beloved squishies at him. From zero to one hundred, you’ve escalated rapidly and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t convey everything to him right now, in this moment.
Jungkook remains stoic, somewhat resembling the statue of a Greek god: handsome and stagnant, not even flinching at the impact of your squishies hitting his built body or the way you nonsensically scream at him.
“This is all your fucking fault Jungkook. You ruined my life! You ruined love for me! I’ll never get a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids because of you! I’m going to die alone and it’ll be all your fucking fault! How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me?” You erupt into sobs, pushing your face into your hands as you violently cry. Snot, tears, and saliva leak from your face as the chagrin completely consumes you.
“Y/N.” The sound of Jungkook’s deep, baritone voice is barely audible over the sounds of your heaving.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” He does sound sorry, but you can’t help but question the authenticity of his words because he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. It’s like he’s merely uttering an apology to appease you.
But for Jungkook, he’ll apologize a million times if it helps dry your tears. He never let his pride get in the way when it comes to you.
He sits at the edge of your bed, using his finger to tilt your chin up, revealing your disheveled, snotty, and glossy face. You whimper when your vision clears and focuses on him.
He wipes your face with your own shirt, tugging up the hem to absorb your tears, still gentle and attentive. You swat his hand away. “You need to stop doing that,” you mewl, blinking more tears from your eyes.
“You need to stop crying. It makes me sad,” he retorts, passing you the same Snorlax plushie you violently launched at him. You cushion the plushie on top of your thighs and bring your knees to your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to settle from your emotional high.
“You don’t even take me seriously,” you mumble, peeking up at him.
“I always take you seriously,” Jungkook responds, “but I want you to stop crying first-
“Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe out, “If you don’t hate me, then kiss me,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut, delusionally- as if he was about to kiss you. Instead, you feel his large palm on your head, softly caressing your hair.
“I’m not gonna kiss you. You should get some rest.” His voice is deep, calm, and composed. How can he be so normal when you’re on the brink of losing your mind?
Your face scrunches up in indignation before you erupt in tears once again, practically screaming. “Fuck you! I hate you! I hate you!”
“Y/N.” He calls your name repeatedly.
“Y/N-”
“Shut the fuck up you asshole!”
“Y/N,” his voice becomes more stern with everytime he calls your name, but you don’t let him get a word in. You keep screaming at him, calling him every name in the book of insults, shaking him off every time he goes near you.
When he attempts to sit by you, you violently push him away. “Go away! I’m not a little kid anymore! I don’t fucking need you anymore! I’m gonna be single forever because of you! If you don’t want me to be single forever then just fucking leave and never come back!”
You’re aware that your words are horrible, but the overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame erupting in your system prevents any rational train of thoughts from developing in your mind. You’re embarrassed and devastated that Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and it sends you spiraling.
He attempts to calm you once more by sitting on your bed, but you push him even more violently. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’m never gonna find love because of you! Just fucking die, just leave forever if-”
He staggers on his feet, caught off balance from the force of your push, and for the first time in his life Jungkook yells at you.
“Y/N!”
Giving you no time to say or think anything, he seats himself on your makeup chair, tattooed hand gripping onto its top rail. “Y/N,” he scowls deeply at you, features blanketed in exasperation, “We’ll talk about this later, but you need to calm the fuck down. You’re hurting me when you talk like that.”
Your eyebrows furrow deeply in horror, your cheeks tear-stained and your eyes filled with sorrow. The haunting realization of what you just said settles into your system. Your quivering lips barely enunciate your words. “Kook, I’m so sorry,” you blubber out. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t mean it!” You shoot up, stumbling over your own feet and collapsing onto the floor. You’re a mess. Your face glistens with a layer of your own snot, and your hair is matted and tangled, the result of the countless times you tugged at it during this interaction.
Unbeknownst to you, there's a red blotch near the lower hem of your T-shirt, and droplets of blood escape you and drip onto the floor as you stumble out of bed. Jungkook notices though, eyebrows pinching in concern as a very disturbed expression morphs on his face when you collapse to your knees, your trembling hands holding onto him for support. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! It’s all my fucking fault!”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything.
“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry I said that. That was so horrible of me. Please don’t die. I’m so sorry.”
A sigh of vexation leaves his lips, but nonetheless he remains patient, compassionate towards the devastation that consumes your face. “I’m not gonna die.” He cups your face with his tattooed hand, and uses his thumb to wipe the idle tears on your face. “I forgive you. It’s okay.”
“Promise? Promise it’s okay? I’m so sorry,” you cry even more, desperately latching onto his hands, using the side of his fingers to wipe your eyes.
“It’s okay,” he confirms, tilting your head upwards before wiping your face with a makeup wipe from your vanity. “‘M really tired. I’m gonna go get your pads then I’ll be back.
You sniffle. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The smile he gives you is forced, and it makes you feel horrible.
He motions his head towards your bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when I come back.”
You tiredly listen to his words, getting under your covers and holding onto your Snorlax plush. “Good night Kook.”
“Night,” he says, somewhat emotionlessly, flickering the lights off and vacating your room.
-
Horrible. You wake up with puffy eyes, infinite eye boogers, and an awful pit in your stomach. The memories of last night come flooding in and you immediately check your phone to see if Jungkook texted you. There’s nothing there.
Why would he want to talk to you after what you did?
You decide to send him a text message to further emphasize how sorry you are.
You throw your phone on the bed and scream into the stomach of Snorlax.
Dry. He’s being so fucking dry and it’s all your fault.
The next few weeks are spent with you attempting to redeem yourself.
-
You have no idea why you’re in front of Jungkook’s work, let alone with a lunchbox cake in hand. Begrudgingly, you stumble inside the tall building, awkwardly smiling when you come face to face with the sweet old security man. Jungkook’s work place is fancy as hell. Every floor of the tower hosts the office of an aristocratic company. There are even enormous, airport-esque x-ray machines stationed towards the entrance. You have to walk through a metal detector to be granted access into the building.
“Why hello, young lady! What business do you have here today?”
“Um, I have a cake for someone. H-he works at HYBE Tech Solutions.”
“Alright, go ahead and put your bag and belongings here,” he says, motioning towards the tray on the X-ray machine conveyor belt. You watch as your belongings pass through the machine and come out on the other end. Then, you step through the metal detector, holding your arms up to be properly inspected. You bid the security man goodbye and walk towards the elevator.
An ominous feeling of stupidity washes over you as you press your fingers onto the elevator buttonsYou feel stupid. You feel dumb. You feel silly. You would never do this for a man, but here you are.
You take a deep breath before you stumble in, coming face to face with the lady that works at the front desk. Your eyes settle on the badge on her blouse. Dorothy. You vaguely remember Jungkook ranting about this woman, venting about how she crossed professional and ethical boundaries- often sneakily creeping her fingers up his chest while they spoke and even going as far as to dig into the company’s database for his personal information.
You clear your throat. “Hi, how’s your day been?”
“I’m great! Thanks for asking, hun. How can I help you today?” She asks, voice bubbly and uplifting, perfect for customer service.
“Oh! Um- I have something for Jungkook. He works in the tech department.”
Her bubbly and friendly atmosphere immediately diminishes, and she raises her eyebrows at you before eyeing you conspicuously. With a vacuous expression, she picks up the landline, pressing her thin fingers into the numbers. “Hey, can you let Jungkook know that there’s a child here for him?”
You purse your lips at that, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try to avoid eye contact with this woman by looking elsewhere- pupils frantically darting to the daisies on the front desk or the grandfather clock that sits idly against the beige walls- but she’s persistently staring you down.
Thank God Jungkook appears from the end of the hallway.
He sports a light blue button up and brown slacks, a stack of papers in his tattooed hand while the other rakes through his short hair. He looks delicious as ever and clearly Dorothy agrees because she practically moans as he walks down the hallway.
“Y/N?” He narrows his eyes in your direction, confirming that it’s really you.
“Um hi Kook. I brought you something.” You use two hands to present the styrofoam box to him.
Jungkook’s eyes scan from the lunchbox to you. He places the stack of papers on the front desk before accepting the box and popping open its lid. “A cake?” he questions, and you nod shyly, fidgeting in place.
“Thanks,” he plainly says, giving you an awkward smile before his eyes dart towards Dorothy, who is intensely scrutinizing the interaction. There is tension in the atmosphere, and Dorothy’s presence isn’t helping.
He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to, you should be studying,” he says, his words a little more light-hearted this time.
You shake your head. “I wanted to do this for you. I’m sorry for last night, Koo.”
He stares at you before letting a sigh escape his lips. “t’s okay Y/N. Told you I‘m not mad. We’ll talk about this later.”
You twiddle with your fingers, your puppy eyes flickering towards him.
“Hug?” he asks, cutting the tension, tilting his head while he holds his arms open. You pout, nodding before running into his arms. He holds you tight, and whispers into the top of your head so Dorothy wouldn’t catch heed of the conversation. “You made me sad last night, you know.”
“‘I’m sorry.”
“‘It's okay. I can never be mad at you for too long,” He subtly releases you from his embrace and pinches your cheek. “Now go home, okay?”
You take a step back and offer a nod. And for some reason, Jungkook feels that you’re looking at him as if you’ll never see him again. “Enjoy your cake.”
Jungkook smiles back, waving you goodbye. You turn to the office lady, who quickly averts her eyes once you notice her blatant eavesdropping. “Thank you auntie. Have a nice day!”
Jungkook has to physically restrain himself from laughing.
-
A heart emoji. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his most insignificant actions. You hold your phone to your chest and bite back a smile.
Loud music booms and vibrates through the walls of this massive mansion. There’s a huge pool, complete with a waterslide and waterfalls spilling into the pool. You’re surrounded by tons of other like-minded college kids, clad in nothing but a white lace bikini. You’re able to acknowledge that it isn’t the most tasteful outfit, but you feel good and you look good.
After jumping in the pool and violently pelting water balloons at each other (effectively scaring away all the hoes), you and Yunjin lie under a cabana mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You only look up from your phone when you sense Yunjin holding up her phone for a selfie. Jungkook would have rolled his eyes at the sight.
“Can I show you something?” you abruptly blurt out, eliciting a cynical look from your friend. “Is it bad?”
You immediately shake your head, composing your posture so you can properly show Yunjin your texts with Jungkook. Her eyes rapidly scan over the phone in moments and she shoots you a sly glance.
“So do you think?-”
“I don’t know… but I really, really, really hope that it means something. I don’t want him to see me as a little kid anymore, you know?” Bashfully, you smile at her, your demure expression a complete juxtaposition to your practically naked figure.
Yunjin cups your cheeks making your glossy lips pouty. “Y/N! You’re about to pull Jungkook!”
“I am?”
“Yes you are-”
Yunjin flinches dramatically when a harsh stream of water unexpectedly drenches you. You both whip your head to the culprit in question: Beomgyu standing directly in front of you with a massive water gun.
“You bitch!” Yunjin shoots up and runs after him with you rapidly following your partner in crime’s lead. But as you’re running towards Beomgyu (who maniacally screams and dashes), another stream hits you from the back.
The second culprit. Soobin. You sprint towards, latching your claws onto his white T-shirt him while you tug him towards the pool. “Wait Y/N! I just dried off. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
No mercy for this bitch.
You position yourself behind him, using your whole body to push him into the pool. Splash! You jump and squeal in excitement when he emerges from the water wiping his face with his hands. You laugh hysterically in his face, childishly pointing your finger at him, finding it even more hilarious when he gives you the stink eye. “That’s what you get, asshole!-“
You pause and shriek in horror.
Somebody just pulled on the strings of your bikini top, exposing your boobs to the entire party.
You instinctively crouch, shoving your chest into your knees.The gasp of horror that leaves Soobin’s lips mirrors yours, and he immediately springs into action, rapidly lifting himself from the pool and sprinting after whatever asshole just violated you.
“Y/N!” Your savior, Yeonjun appears in front of you, crouching to your level. He rapidly rids himself of his shirt and pulls it over your entire figure. “You’re good, you’re good,” he whispers calmly to you, trying to prevent you from having a full blown panic attack. You stand up reticently, folding your arms over your chest, eyes trained on the ground and only looking at Yeonjun’s feet to gauge which direction you’re heading in.
“You okay?” Yeonjun settles under the cabana. “That guy is such a dick,” he mutters to himself.
You nod and sink into the cushion of the outdoor-couch. “I’m so fucking embarassed.”
Attempting to salvage the situation, Yeonjun immediately shakes his head. “No, no. Nobody saw anything.” You shoot him a skeptical look, knowing damn well everybody in the party saw your bare boobs.
“Is that Jungkook?”
You immediately whip your head towards the left, and indeed Jungkook is walking your way. You can’t believe he’s real. All heads whip in his direction as he makes his way towards you. He flicks his head back to prevent hair from falling in front of his eyes, barefoot, black T-shirt, and gray shorts. He looks so handsome you can’t even comprehend it.
“Y/N!” He shouts, quicklyducking under the roof of the cabana before he positions himself in front of you. He inhales and exhales deeply, the blistering sun forming particles of sweat on his forehead.
You look up at him and your heart melts. The sheen of sweat on his face, the way his eyes fixate on you. Your heart skips a beat. You want to cry. Again. Out of embarrassment, and how emotional you become at Jungkook’s mere presence.
You bury your head into your knees, making Jungkook's eyebrows pinch. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Yeonjun opens his mouth, hesitatingly glancing at you to confirm if telling Jungkook is okay.
You shoot up and practically catapult yourself onto Jungkook, latching onto him like a Koala. “Nothing happened,” you say, nuzzling your face into his shirt. “Come swim with me. Please.”
Jungkook sighs, using his large palm to tame your frizzy stray hairs. “Y/N. We need to go home.”
You cock your head in confusion.“Wait why?”
His voice becomes oddly stern. “Y/N. It’s important and we have to go home.”
“To your place or mine?”
“My place. Just follow me.”
You haven’t a clue as to why Jungkook is behaving so urgently, but you follow him nonetheless. You pick up your purse and give Yeonjun a quick hug, running after Jungkook who cooly breezes past everyone, not a single person missing the hot guy who suddenly showed to the party.
Jungkook opens his car door for you and allows you to step in.
“Jungkook… is something going on?”
“Yes, there is,” he says grimacing slightly, shutting the door for you before he climbs into the driver’s seat.
This nauseating anxiety bubbles inside you and sends chills up your spine, making you flinch when Jungkook closes the car door on his side. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just looks behind his shoulder to reverse from his parking spot before zooming out of there.
“Is this because of what happened the other night?” you ask, and he glances at you quickly.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Well.. are we going to talk about it?” you push, twiddling with your fingers.
Jungkook shakes his head, noticing your trembling fingers in his peripheral view. He reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours. “Not now.”
You don’t respond, shifting in confusion.
“Here,” Jungkook starts, throwing his phone in your lap, “You can play whatever song you want.”
You purse your lips and silently nod.
Sooner or later, you arrive at Jungkook’s apartments, and he leads you up the stairs and sits you on his black leather couch.
He cups your face with both hands, caressing the apples of your cheek with his thumbs. With your eyebrows pinched, you peer into Jungkook’s eyes, conveying your confusion through your scrunched facial features.
“Y/N, before I tell you what I want to tell you, I want you to take a few breaths. Just know that I’m always here for you.”
You nod steadily, pretty facial features still crinkled in confusion.
“Y/N, your parents were in a car accident, and they didn’t make it.”
“What?”
And as the haunting realization settles into your system, all you can remember are your shrieks of terror echoing throughout his apartment and the way Jungkook holds you against his body while he wipes your tears and assuages your loud cries.
-
The few days that proceed are a blur, but Jungkook takes care of you and is far more attentive than he ever has been. You cling onto him like fragile glass ornament hanging from a delicate thread- like he was all you had left because he was all you had left. He was your spring solace after a harsh winter, and the way he treated you indicated as much.
Jungkook works from home so you aren’t alone. For the entire day, you sit on his bed and watch him work. You eavesdrop on his meetings, falling asleep to the sound of his voice and whenever you wake up Jungkook ensures that he feeds you, constantly worried about your inability to eat.
You’re queasy just thinking about going back to your house, so your daily and nightly attire consist of pieces from Jungkook’s wardrobe. You haven’t verbally acknowledged what has happened- not ready to talk about the death of your parents. You’re just trying to survive, and you feel like you’re barely making it.
Thankfully, all your friends and family have been extremely helpful trying to get you through your grief. Jungkook’s mother stays with you for a few days, and after that Yunjin sleeps over with you for a few days- but you know that a piece of your heart has been ruthlessly ripped form you.
“Y/N, you need to take a shower,” Jungkook expresses, obstructing your view of the TV. His toothbrush hangs from his mouth, toothpaste residue bubbling around the perimeter of his lips. You owlishly blink at him, observing how his expression hardens at your look of indifference.
You scoot towards the left end of the couch, hoping to get a clear view of Ever After High projected on his flat screen TV.
“Y/N you haven’t showered in three days,” Jungkook interjects, “Please take a shower.”
“I will. Later.”
He pushes up his glasses, staring at you with intense disapproval. “Y/N,” he says sternly, trying to be gentle despite his qualms.
You acquiesce, pouting at him. “Okay, fine. Later.”
His frown deepens. “Y/N.”
You chew on your bottom lip, deeply contemplating what Jungkook has asked of you. His large frame remains frozen in front of you. No matter how you position yourself on the couch, he renders you unable to watch the princesses prance around on the TV.
“Okay… but will you at least come with me? I don’t want to be without you.”
Jungkook pauses.
“I don’t mean like getting in with me, but will you just sit on the toilet and talk to me?” You ask, sinking into the leather of his sofa and using your sweater paws to sweep your hair back.
“Yea, I’ll do that.”
Once you step in the shower, you close the curtains, and strip yourself from your clothes, handing the pile of clothes to Jungkook. You turn on the water, yelping at the sensation on your body. Jungkook was right. You needed this and you kind of do smell like butthole.
“Wait Y/N, do you want me to go to your house and get you underwear?”
After folding up your (his) T-shirt and boxers, he notices that you haven’t been wearing any undergarments.
“No!” you call back, “I don’t want you to go there! Not yet,” you call back.
“Then do you want me to buy you some?” he responds, placing the folded clothes on the bathroom counter.
“Um, maybe we can order some on Amazon.”
“Just send me the link and I’ll place the order.”
“Okay.”
A wave of silence washes over the bathroom, and you peek your head from the shower curtain to see what Jungkook’s up to: scrolling on Instagram. On his screen is some instagram model’s bikini pic, his fingers pausing on the screen so he can look at the photo.
“Who is that?” you ask, making Jungkook jump in his seat.
“What the- Y/N, just take your shower!” Jungkook feigns annoyance but can’t help himself but scoff in amusement at how petty you can be.
“Is she prettier than me?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook with disapproval.
Jungkook purses his lips and tugs the shower curtain past your face and holds it against the wall, preventing you from peeking your pretty head past the curtain. He holds it there for a good minute, unfazed by the thrashing against the shower curtain.
Swish.
You swipe open the shower curtain from the other side. Your eyes bore into Jungkook’s and Jungkook thinks you’re foolish not to realize how alluring and sultry you are. Your bare body is akin to a sculpture of the goddess Aphrodite. Water drips from the crevices of your body and you gaze at him with anticipation etched onto your face. You’re just standing there, but your posture is so seductive- or maybe it’s just the natural curvature of your body.
“Why don’t you join me?” your sweet voice makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat.
When he doesn’t respond, your features morph into humiliation, regret consuming you. You nod your head. “Sorry Kook, I’ll just-”
“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Any man can see how lovely you are. Honestly, you take my breath away every time I see you,” Sensing the trepidation on your face, he solidifies his claim, “I mean it Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I want to join you but I’m not going to. You’re hurting right now and I don’t want to do anything to take advantage of you.”
And he isn’t lying, he yearns for every kind of contact with you, but he’s not going to go through with this. Not when you’re traumatized from the death of your parents. Not when you’ve been so unhinged for the past week, refusing to even shower.
You stare at him for a second, dazy eyed and your eyes darting around the room. “Okay Jungkook. I’m sorry.”
He smiles sweetly at you and gently closes the shower curtain. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m gonna head to my room. You’re welcome to come visit me anytime.”
-
Boys’ night. Jungkook being the handsome stud he is, happens to have friends that are also handsome studs. Jungkook offered to postpone boys’ night but you declined his attempts to make you more comfortable. Jungkook has exerted so much effort to take care of you. There’s no reason for him to forgo time with his best friends. Besides, you can always hide in your room.
You crack your door open slightly ajar, peeking through the crack to spy on Jungkook and his friends. Antisocial is the perfect word to describe you.
The sound of the doorbell ringing was your cue to lock yourself in your room. Jungkook knocked a few times, but you were too scared of other people that you didn’t even grace him with a response.
Clearly Jungkook got the message because he opted to leave a greasy piece of pizza outside your door, sending you a quick text message about it.
You just wanted to scout the scene, see who was there. Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon. Soju bottles are scattered around the table, and there’s some music blaring from the TV. You’ve met everyone here a few times- they all know you, but you aren’t close with Jungkook’s friends like he is with your friends.
“Oh Y/N! Come join us!” You freeze at Mingyu’s words, and all eyes in the room whip towards your direction.
“Umm..” you close the door gently and leap into the safety of your bed.
You overhear their banter through the wooden door. “Hey! Why are you making little kids uncomfortable!” Jimin yells, slapping Mingyu on the neck.
Your lip quivers, and you inhale deeply, gathering the courage to step outside of the room. You quickly put on deodorant, and step out stealthily, taking a seat next to Namjoon on the couch. No one seems to notice you, and you tap on his shoulder. Namjoon whips his head towards you, the confusion on his face melting into fondness.
“Hi,” you squeak out, fiddling with your fingers.
“Hi Y/N,” Namjoon greets, the kindness laced in his voice assuaging the trepidation bubbling on your inside. Jungkook’s red lava lamp illuminates the room with shades of crimson, and your eyes flutter shut when a ray of light shines on your face.
“Are you okay?” Namjoon inquires, holding his hand up to shield you from the light.
“Yea, I’m fine,” you blink a few times. You don’t say anything, just awkwardly take a bite of your pizza while your eyes dart around the room.
Namjoon doesn’t seem to know what to say to you either, so the two of you just sit and eat pizza in silence. For a moment, your eyes lock. You owlishly blink at him and he blinks at you for a good minute.
But then, to your surprise, Namjoon sets his pizza down, opening his arms. Your features scrunch up, and you let yourself melt into his warm embrace, glossy tears rolling down your face.
“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he expresses, gently caressing the back of your head with his palm. You sniffle. “t’s okay,” you sob, “but I’m so sad. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You’ll get through this. We’re always here for you.”
His words invoke a tornado of intense feelings in your system, and your strong facade crumbles as you become vulnerable in Jungkook’s friend’s embrace. By this point, everyone has noticed your presence, and suddenly the night becomes about you.
After wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you find yourself sitting in between Jungkook and Namjoon in a “friendship circle”. It’s quite cute that these grown men still sit criss-cross applesauce in a circle, but you’re overjoyed that you’re welcome to the group.
“I brought you a cake Y/N,” Taehyung announces, handing you a lunchbox cake. With your doe eye, you look towards him before opening the lid of the cake. A lunchbox cake with Snorlax’s face iced on the top. “Jungkook mentioned that you really liked Pokemon, so I thought you’d find this cute,” he continues, slightly trailing off. You’re Strong! Is what it reads, and you fall into pieces, your features crumpling up before you burst into tears.
Jungkook laughs in fondness at the vulnerability of your reaction, wrapping a single arm around your frame.
“Th-thank you,” you sniffle, offering Taehyung a crooked smile. “Can we eat it together? I don’t want to get f-fat.”
At that, a chorus of no’s echo through the room, and you giggle a bit.
Your heart is incredibly full. Family. Friends. People who care about you. This is something your soul desires, something your soul needs.
The night meets its unfortunate end, and you stand in front of Jungkook as you bid his friends goodbye. Before the boys walk away, you find your fingers clinging onto the hem of Jimin’s oversized shirt. Before he ventures off, he turns around and graces you with an endearing look of confusion. “What’s up?”
“Can I come with you?” you spout.
“You want to sleep over at our place?” Jimin questions, gingerly scratching the back of his head.
You shake your head steadily, “I just want to talk to you,” you clarify, gazing up at him shyly. Jimin’s eyes dart towards Jungkook’s for approval and Jungkook nods his head. “Go ahead. I’ll give you guys privacy,” he pinches your cheek affectionately before closing the door. You stand on your tiptoes, peeking through the window of the apartment to ensure that Jungkook isn’t eavesdropping.
Jimin leans against the railings, observing you carefully.
You tug on the hem of Jimin’s tee, urging him to follow you to the lobby of Jungkook’s apartment. He follows in your stead, not questioning you until your actions pause. You shift around uncomfortably for a bit, and you look up at him. Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind.
“Do you think Jungkook and I could ever.. be a thing?” you finally question, shifting your weight between your feet, a crimson sheen sweeping over your cheeks.
Jimin’s eyebrows pinch, and he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth, looking for the right words to say. “Like romantically?”
Your eyes cumbersomely drift towards the painting behind Jimin. “Y-yea. I really like him, and I want him to be my boyfriend- and I know he’s attracted to me but won’t act on his feelings because of his ethical qualms,” you stutter out, pursing your lips after seeing how Jimin’s face morphs into astonishment.
“Well, I don’t think Jungkook is seeing anyone right now- but Y/N, if I’m going to be totally honest, I don’t think you and Jungkook being a romantic pair would be appropriate. I mean, he’s known you since you were a kid. Even if he does like you, I don’t think he would cross those boundaries.” he very gently explains, meticulously finding the correct wording to not hurt your feelings.
You bite your lip bitterly, sinking into the realization of his assertion. “Yea, you’re right. I don’t know. I guess it’s just a stupid crush,” you dismiss your confession with a wave and offer Jimin a shy smile.
Jimin pouts at your invalidation of your own feelings. “Don’t say that. I know you’ll find someone who cherishes and loves you. Someone you deserve,” he asserts. You smile at him, nodding before he ruffles your hair and leads you back up the stairs.
Someone you love.
Would you ever find it in yourself to love anybody that wasn’t him? Jungkook has successfully monopolized your heart, your soul, your very being.
Ping!
-
Tonguing his cheek, Jungkook impatiently and abruptly brakes at a red light, accelerating rapidly when the light turns green. He changes from his casual clothes to a black sleeveless shirt, loose leather pants, and a beanie. Mingyu sits on the passenger seat, frantically typing on his laptop as Jungkook zooms down the highway at record pace.
Breaking into a frat house to terrorize some dumb college kids definitely wasn’t a part of the plan tonight, but Jungkook was down for some last minute terrorism.
“So what are you gonna do? Threaten the kid? Call the cops?”Taehyung questions from the backseat, both hands gripping on the headrest of Mingyu and Jungkook’s seats.
“Look, I’m really trying to not sound corny, but I’m going to torture him,” Jungkook enunciates, which evokes a few seconds of silence.
“This bitch-”
“He’s lost his fucking mind,” Mingyu mumbles.
Jungkook laughs to himself, amused by the comments of his friends. Jungkook is an intelligent, rational person. Normally, he wouldn’t take it this far but he deems it extremely necessary for this particular situation.
“What the- now he’s creepily laughing to himself-”
“If we tell Y/N about this she’s going to be scared of you,” Mingyu abruptly comments, shooting Jungkook a pointed look.
Jungkook pauses, seemingly deeply considering the utterance of his friend, toying with his lip ring for a while he finally makes a comment. “I won’t do anything bad. I’ll just intimidate him a little.”
His friends sigh, not pressing further on the matter because Mingyu and Taehyung were pissed off too. Instead, Mingyu rolls down the windows of the car, allowing the breeze of the cool night to consume the interior of the car.
Jungkook considers this very night a milestone in your healing process. You isolated yourself in his apartment for two consecutive weeks, your grief severely limiting your social capacity and ability to normally interact with people. His friends were privy to your situation, purposely not coming to Jungkook’s home out of respect for you. But tonight, the color that reappeared in your aura overwhelmed his heart with joy.
While you were on the couch, talking to Namjoon about something, Jungkook got an alarming text from one of your friends- Yeonjun. Jungkook is cool with your friends, but not close enough to be sending private text messages, so his eyes brows pinch in concern when he sees the notification pop up from his phone.
Mingyu’s eyes drifted towards Jungkook, who was noticeably brimming with indignation. Jungkook scoffed to himself, a macabre smirk on his lips before he laughed erratically at the message. He repeatedly wiped his face with his hand, chuckling in amusement. Jungkook discreetly passed his phone to Mingyu without a word, with Taehyung looking over his shoulder, both of them gasping at the message.
This whole time, you were oblivious to the scheme Jungkook was contriving and Jungkook intended to keep it that way. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and Jungkook would cut his limbs off to lessen that burden. The indignation and resentment bubbling within him threatens to erupt because he’s so fucking pissed off.
You’re everything to him, and the thought of you being violated makes him want to indulge in his violent impulses. He can’t imagine how you would feel knowing that video spread around, and usually he would confide with you about these things but right now he needs to sweep this under the rug and make sure it never comes back up.
Luckily, he and Mingyu both have degrees in computer engineering and know how to hack into technical infrastructures.
Jungkook pulls up to the frat house, rolling the window down steadily before he rests his elbow on the ledge of the window. He sits there for a second, toying with his lip ring while his eyes bore into the interior of the house. He’s sure he looks creepy as hell- just staring into the house.
After a few minutes of waiting in silence, some guy arises from the house and approaches the car.
Jungkook keeps his lips sealed until he’s close enough to perceive his features.
“Uh is there something yall need?” the guy asks, innocently scratching the back of his head.
“Yea,” Jungkook responds, voice firm and somewhat chilling, “Your name Josh?”
“Yea? What’s up-”
Jungkook kicks the door open, knocking Josh over until he’s rolled on the floor, clutching his leg as he shrieks in pain.
“Oh shit, are we really doing this?” Taehyung mutters before joining Jungkook outside the car.
Jungkook sits on top of Josh, continuously punching the shit out of him before he spits on the kid’s face. He uses a single hand to lift him by the collar, and violently pushes him against the car. “You mad Y/N rejected you? So you pulled that shit?” Jungkook menaces, his face centimeters away from Josh’s.
Josh whimpers, crying- too horrified to coherently respond. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleads, tears and snot streaming down his ugly face.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook repeatedly bangs Josh against the car. “I’m gonna say this shit once and I’m not going to repeat myself,” he seethes, satisfied by the way Josh whimpers and nods his head pathetically.
“You’re not shit. You’ll never ever be good enough for Y/N. You’re the same as the shit on the bottom of my shoe,” he breathes against Josh’s face, who whimpers and cries, “If I ever see you messing with Y/N ever again- I will ruin your whole life.”
Josh nods, unable to do anything else.
“Got it?” Jungkook seethes, pushing Josh’s head against the car door.
“Got it!”
“Good. We’re going inside, and you guys are going to watch us go through all of your iClouds, and we’re going to delete every single copy of the video there is, alright?”
“Yes! Yes! That’s fine! I’m sorry!”
Jungkook scoffs in amusement at his despicable demeanor, before he throws Josh on the ground and enters the house.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Mingyu mumbles, following Jungkook’s lead into the house.
-
You anxiously wait for Jungkook to return home, absentmindedly toying with the Switch to distract from the hysterical thoughts frantically racing through your mind. You’ve done everything you could to distract yourself, your restless heart aching to do something of substance.
You’ve been isolating yourself from society for the past month simply because you can’t bring yourself to leave Jungkook’s home, as if it was your safe haven.
You dread the moment you have to return to your home, memories of your family coming to mind. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about everything, and you reckon that it’s time to process everything. There are aspects of grief that you find unfathomable- questions you have that make you want to throw up.
What will happen to the home that holds the memories of your family within its walls? How will you assimilate back into society without your father, without your mother? You’re not confident that it will ever be the same, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the notion- but you have to be resilient; you have to face it.
It feels worse to avoid the reality of your life than to face it head on.
You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorknob turning.
“Jungkook!” The way you call his name is breathless, and his eyebrows pinch in concern when you pounce on him. Nonetheless, he allows you to nuzzle into his embrace and he soothingly rubs your back- like he always does.
“Wasn’t gone that long,” Jungkook absentmindedly comments.
“I know- just missed you. I’m sorry for being clingy,” you murmur, to which Jungkook shakes his head at the absurdity of your words.
“Not at all. Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll take you with me wherever I go,” he adds, settling into the leather of his sofa. You shuffle after him like a cute little penguin, sitting your ass directly next to Jungkook despite the vacant empty space on your right side.
“Then am I allowed to sit next to you?”
Jungkook’s features crinkle up in amusement, nose scrunching as he laughs lightly at how cute you are. He pinches your cheek, “It’s one thousand dollars for every minute you’re within a five foot radius of me,” he comments, tone stoic and firm.
He doesn’t have to look in your direction to visualize the way your pretty lips fall open, swatting at his bicep for his cruel words. “Jungkook, I don’t have that money! You know I only have 35 cents in my bank account!”
“Okay, then go sit over there,” Your eyes follow the trail of his pointed finger, the corner of the room.
“Fine! You fucking asshole,” you mutter bitterly, jumping up from the couch and stomping away with a hmph, until Jungkook slyly wraps his hand around the circumference of your wrist and pulls you to him. You collapse onto the couch, your back against his chest, and your butt between his legs.
He clings onto you, almost suffocating you with the way he wraps his arms around you, grabbing his elbows as he locks his arms over your head. “‘M just kidding- you know that. I can’t survive without my baby either, y’know?”
Your chest erupts with butterflies, and you hold onto his forearm with both of your hands. “I know.”
-
The next day, you return to school. Your professors were so empathetic and understanding to the nuance and confusion of your situation, allowing you to complete your coursework from the comfort of Jungkook’s home.
Grief isn’t a linear process. Though you’ve found it in you to return to school, it’s the mundane and the typical that you’re becoming increasingly bothered by.
No one in your Philosophy class is paying attention to this movie, clearly. You can tell by the lit up screens scattered within the clusters of students, and you aren’t diligent enough to not be one of those students, doodling flowers and Snorlax’s on your paper.
For the second you do look up at the movie, your heart stops. It’s always the most mundane, irrelevant details that get to you. The scene barely occupies a minute and it makes your chest tighten in the worst way possible.
The main character walks down the wedding aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. The haunting realization settles in your system- you will never ever experience that. You begin hyperventilating, your hand crumpling the paper, and you quickly rest your forearms on the table before shoving your face into your forearms. People are already looking at you and you can’t fathom the humiliation so you stay like that until class is dismissed.
You finally lift your head, rubbing your eyes to adjust the blinding ceiling lights.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You shriek at the unexpected voice and whip your head to the left.
“Hey hey hey- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he breathes out, rolling his chair towards you before rolling back so as to not scare you further.
“No no, you’re good,” you breathe out, inhaling and exhaling to bring you down from your petrified high. “Just having a shitty day,” you explain, sweeping away the hair dried to your face by your tears.
He seems to be unable to conjure a proper response, peering at you with an empty gaze and you sink in your seat, feeling the need to further explain yourself. “Well there was that part in the movie where Emma got married, and that made me feel horrible because I recently lost my dad.. And my mom.”
“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he articulates, “I just noticed you haven’t been in class for a while and was kinda worried when I saw you crying. I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries.”
“You know me?”
His lips tug up in embarrassment as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck. “Well we usually sit next to each other so I thought we formed an acquaintanceship or something,” he mumbles.
“Oh I’m sorry,” you pout at him, “I usually tap out during class so I never noticed you. What’s your name by the way?” You shyly stick out your hand, and he gives you a straight lined smile before shaking your hand gently.
“Sunghoon. I-I’m really sorry for your loss by the way,” he adds, and you find his nervousness quite endearing. You shyly smile at him, and he gazes back at you with similar amity. He ever so softly pulls your wrist towards his and scribbles his number onto your forearm. “Feel free to text me if you ever need help with homework. You missed a lot of school,” he offers, and you find yourself giggling at his forth forwardness.
“Thanks Sunghoon."
-
When Jungkook returns from work that night, the first thing he’s met with is you shoving your boots on, seemingly ready for a vivacious night out. Your figure is adorned with a white satin slip on dress, and your hair is put up in an elegant updo. Jungkook pauses, eyes settling on your figure before scanning up to your face; he thinks this is the first time he’s seen you with makeup on since he wiped away the mascara running down your cheeks the day he broke the news.
“Hey daddy,” you purr, “Where have you been? The kids have been waiting for you,” you giggle, sliding your mini purse down your arm.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, humorously scoffing at your corny choice of words.
You giggle, skipping towards him before jumping onto him, latching around his neck before you whisper in his ear. “‘m going out with my friends, don’t wait for me to get home because I might stay the night with Yunjin.”
Jungkook stiffens, remaining frozen while you back up from him.
“So, do I look like an angel, or what?”
“Always look cute,” because despite the infesting irritation bubbling in his system, he would never not tell you how it is. You are cute, always cute, always like an angel.
“Thanks,” you giggle, skipping towards the door but before you can skip past him, he latches onto your wrist. “Wait.”
You tilt your head, slightly confused. “I bought something for you.”
He digs in his backpack and pulls it out. Nipple pasties. “You never wear a bra, so I thought you’d be safer if you put these on before you go out.”
“You were the one who said I had small tits!”
“Okay, well you still have nipples- so at least put these on to keep you safe.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn’t back down. You snatch the pasties from his hand and march into the bathroom. “Fine!”
Jungkook lounges on the couch, eyes trained on you before you bid him goodbye and skip out of his apartment. He inhales deeply to settle the erratic palpitations in his chest. He needs to stop being so protective of you.
-
Your arms linked with Yunjin, you skip around from one club to the next, dancing and partying your little hearts out. When the night comes to a close you prance to the local ramen shop around your campus. From a distance, you can already make out Jungkook casually speaking with his friends. He’s always so animated when he’s with his friends, dramatically gesturing and hip thrusting in the air while his friends laugh at his immature jokes. He’s got a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, taking slow puffs, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before he tilts his head to exhale a long plume of smoke into the atmosphere.
That’s right. Jungkook smokes occasionally but never lets you do it. What a hypocrite.
His eyes drift off for a second until they land on you, and his lips curl up in your presence.
“Well look, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he teases, letting out low laughter at the way you crimson when all his friends’ heads whip in your direction.
You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a dirty look that Jungkook cooes at. Even when you were trying to intimidate him you akin to a cute Snorlax, so adorable, eyebrows pinched and lips pouted- how could he feel anything but adoration at that?
“Aw angel,” he jests, throwing your words right back at you, “Don’t ignore me, ‘m sorry for teasing you,” he catches you as you walk past him, pulling you towards his chest before resting his chin on top of your head.
He casually smiles at Yunjin. “How’s my angel been doing? Has she been behaving?”
Yunjin’s jaw drops at the bold statement and you attempt to wrestle out of his firm embrace to berate him.
Just kidding. It’s getting late, though. Do you girls need a ride home?” he asks, finally letting you go just for you to stumble out of his grip and almost land on your face, but luckily Jungkook pulls your shoulders back without even looking in your direction.
“Jungkook, it’s literally 10,” you deadpan.
“Oh c’mon, I don’t want you girls to get kidnapped or something,” he snarkily responds.
“How about you give us some money instead?” Yunjin jests, clearly joking, but Jungkook takes it so, so seriously. He raises a brow at both of you. “How much do you need?”
“Wait no- I was kidding,” Yunjin quickly clarifies, her ears becoming slightly red, “you don’t have to..”
Jungkook looks from you to her, then back at you before whipping out his phone, taking another puff of his cigarette before blowing the smoke upwards, careful so you don’t inhale any smoke.
Ping!
Your eyebrows pinch in confusion when you get a notification, and you unzip your mini purse to grab your phone, allowing the screenlight to illuminate your pretty features.
JEON JUNGKOOK HAS TRANSFERRED YOU 500 DOLLARS VIA HYBETRANSFER.
“250 each, alright?” Jungkook laughs, taking another puff of his cigarette before he saunters off, his friends pushing him around and teasing him.
“Ayo, when did Jeon turn into a sugar daddy?”
You and Yunjin are left dumbfounded, even more so when Jungkook turns around and makes kissy lips at you.
You fall to your knees.
-
The next morning is the weekend.
You absentmindedly chomp on your cereal, eyes still crusty and mind still hazy from the morning daze. Jungkook arises from his bedroom, hair still messy and sticking out in various directions- but he still looks as handsome as ever, the tired and morning glow suiting him wondrously.
“So, I’m planning a trip with my friends at the beach. We’ll stay in an AirBnb. You wanna come with?”
You pause, features crinkling up in confusion. “Which friends? The ones from last night or Mingyu and them?”
“Mingyu, Tae, Jimin, Namjoon,” he counts off, before shrugging, “I already planned to take you with me so it’s not like you have a choice anyways.”
You scoff to yourself in amusement. “Aren’t you being too forceful?”
Jungkook narrows his eyes and graces you with a look of skepticism. “So you don’t want to go? or..”
“No!” you rapidly interject as you shoot up, clearing your throat and regaining your composure at the way Jungkook smirks at you.
You settle back into your seat. “I do want to go,” you exhale, “but do I have to pay for my own room or something? I’m broke.”
“Oh, I was just gonna have you stay in my room,” Jungkook responds, trailing off as he tries to detect any trace of apprehension on your features, “Is that alright with you?”
You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you breathlessly exhale. “That’s perfect.”
So that’s how you found yourself at the beach, in nothing but your black bikini, prancing around the waves with Taehyung.
“Jungkook watch!” you call as you swivel around towards Jungkook, who’s applying sunscreen to his legs, not really paying attention to what you were doing.
You stand in front of the upcoming wave, holding your arms out as if you were going to embrace the wave. “I’m going to stand against the wave!”
At that, Jungkook whips his head upwards, eyebrows pinching in worry as he shoots up. “Tae! Get her! She’s gonna get swept in by-“
And on cue, the wave collapses over you and you tumble into the unwelcoming water. “Motherfuck-“ You thrash and scream, powerless against the unforgiving currents until a pair strong arms pull you from your armpits and drags you to the sand.
“Holy shit Y/N, are you alright?” Taehyung asks, crouching beside you as he pats your back, allowing you to cough the water up.
“Y/N that was so dumb,” you hear Jungkook’s voice as he approaches you, crouching beside you as he hands you his black steel water bottle. “Take a sip,” he urges, and you nod shakily, grasping the bottle with both hands before you take a sip from it.
“I’m okay. Thanks for saving me Taehyung,” you smile at him and he releases a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of us!”
You gulp down the water and close the cap, returning his bottle to him. “Sorry, I won’t do that again, but can we get back to playing now?” you smile as you playfully fling a ball of wet sand at Jungkook.
Jungkook closes his eyes on impact, scoffing in amusement before he grabs you by your legs, signalling Taehyung to grab your arms before they both lift you and run into the ocean.
-
Jungkook waits outside your shared room, knuckles softly knocking on the wooden door. A towel loosely wrapped around his lower waist, water drips from every crevice on his body, but he can’t enter until you’re done changing.
“Oki! I’m done!” you call out, opening the door for him, a towel in your hand as you use it to scrunch up your damp hair.
“Wow. You’re really muscular,” you giggle, fingers hovering over his abs before you look up at him for approval to feel, to which he gently pushes your head aside and waltzes into the room.
When he’s done changing he beckons you back to the room, and you plop in the king sized bed, belly down and legs swinging back and forth in the air.
Jungkook lies down beside you, resting his head on the pillow as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, only looking over when he hears your ringtone go off.
You answer the call almost immediately.
“Oh hey Sunghoon!” you greet, shooting up from the bed to touch up your appearance in the facetime camera.
Sunghoon. Jungkook knows all your friends and he hasn’t heard that name before.
“Hey Y/N, how’s your vacation going?” Sunghoon asks, and you take a seat at the desk, propping your phone up against the wall. You twirl an idle piece of hair around your fingers. “It’s really fun here, I feel great,” you explain, “so what’s up?”
“You look like you’re having fun- wait, is there someone in the room with you?”
You rapidly turn around and look at Jungkook, then tilt your phone at an angle where he isn’t visible. “Oh, he’s just a family friend, do you want me to go somewhere more private?”
“Oh no that’s cool, I was just wondering but I called to ask you about the homework…”
A family friend? Jungkook scowls at that. Wordlessly, he breezes past you and exits the room, closing the door and sits next to Jimin on the couch.
Jimin takes a few moments to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence. “Hey, is there anything going on between you and Y/N?” Jimin finally asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he perceives Jungkook’s sour face.
Jungkook pauses. “Why are you asking?”
Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t you know she has a crush on you? Isn’t it inappropriate for you two to be sharing a room?” Jimin continues, nudging Jungkook with his elbow.
At that, Jungkook buries his face into his palms. He’s let this go on for far too long. “I know,” Jungkook murmurs, voice projection muffled by his hands.
“You know? The other day she asked me if it was possible between you two and I straight up told her that you wouldn’t go for it.”
Jungkook remains wordless at that, and he thinks he’s developed an idea of the reality of the situation.
Jungkook was too scared to address the subject with you; he let it linger for far too long. He didn’t want to burden you with anything else besides what you already had on your plate, and you got in your head about it. He never explicitly stated that he more than reciprocates your feelings, leaving you dangling on a string.
He’s going to fix that.
“No Jimin, that’s not it,” Jungkook clarifies, wiping his face with his palms. “I like her too, and I’m going to tell her tonight,” he states firmly, slightly craning his head to gauge Jimin’s reaction. His reaction isn’t what Jungkook expected. Instead of a look of concern, worry, or horror, Jimin looks over the moon.
“Well shit! I wish I knew that before! You guys look perfect together!” he exclaims before eagerly patting Jungkook on the back.
Jungkook raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Really? Don't you think I should wait a little longer? Until she's ready?”, to which Jimin simply shakes his head.
“Y/N's an adult. She can handle herself. I thought you wouldn't go for it because of the age gap, though. I guess I shouldn't have told her that," he says gingerly, scratching the back of his head. ”Sorry Kook."
Jungkook doesn't say anything, seemingly in deep contemplation. "It used to bother me,” Jungkook clarifies, "but it doesn't anymore."
“So what’s wrong with it?"
That’s right. There is nothing wrong with it.
-
A cool night on the beach. You feel the cool breeze through your air, the lunar radiance of the moon illuminating the beach. You’re adorned in a lovely, summer-esque two piece set with floral patterns running along the fabric, The top piece is cropped and strapless, exposing your collar bones and belly button piercing, and the bottom piece is a long, flowy skirt that blows marvelously against the wind.
You gingerly step outside the beach house, enjoying the cool sensation of the night breeze. The guys are all hanging out in the yard, soju bottles and beer cans scattered on the wooden benches positioned on the beach. Namjoon and Jimin are posted up on the benches, chowing down on meat whilst engaging in pretty animated conversation. You spot Mingyu and Taehyung running around the beach, slapping each other and chasing after each other, their dirty heels slipping against the coarse sand.
Jungkook is stationed at the grill, frying meat for his friends. His tall and built figure is concealed by his loose black T-shirt and black sweat shorts that you have worn a few times during your extended stay at his place.
You creep up behind him, swiping away the stray hairs that the wind blew into your face. Tapping him lightly on the back, you coyly skmile at him, a bashful glow illuminating your face.
Jungkook sensed your presence the moment stepped foot from the house, but still acts like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. He does a double take, eyes scanning up and down your face and body- you look so lovely and elegant in your little two piece set. “Hey,” Jungkook finally returns your greeting, a little breathless.
“Can I have some?” you ask, pointing to the grill.
“Uh yea, I actually made a plate for you a second ago,” Jungkook takes the prepared plate of your favorite meats, but pauses before he hands it to you. He hasn’t a clue if you’re doing this on purpose, but you’re looking at him with the sultriest of eyes, and it drives him crazy. His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat, and he collects himself before handing you the plate.
You tilt your head, sending him a look of confusion at his hesitance, but Jungkook sees it as a gateway to talk to you. “Y/N, can we talk? Like now?” Jungkook asks, rubbing at the nape of his neck.
“Sure, what about?” you solicit, setting the plate on the table.
Jungkook immediately shoves his hands in his pockets, and motions his head towards the beach, obliging you to follow him. “About what you told me at your house..” he trails off, “that one time in the middle of the night,” he adds.
He perceives the way your features morph into embarrassment, so he decides to take the lead on this conversation. He approaches you, standing beside you momentarily before smoothly lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go.”
Unable to conjure a proper response, you follow his footsteps in silence until your bodies appear as distant figures by the ocean. With your toes kissing the water washing up on shore, he turns back to look at you, fingers still intertwined. But you stop him before he can open his mouth.
“Wait- Jungkook. Let me explain myself first,” you begin, thankful that the night sky conceals the obvious bashful glow on your cheeks.
Jungkook who is seemingly expressionless nods his head, signaling you to let your words out.
You gently pull your hand from his, twiddling with your fingers before you can speak. “Firstly, I just wanna apologize.. to you,” you begin, ignoring the way his nose scrunches in confusion, “I feel like you’ve been so good to me- you always take care of me. Your family is the only family I have left,” you continue, bashfully tucking an idle strand of hair behind your ear.
“So I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, and I’m sorry for mistaking your care towards me as romantic affection,” you continue, subconsciously gesticulating with your hands. “I know you said you don’t like it when girls are clingy but I’ve been nothing but clingy, and you still take care of me and care about me.” Your words are passionate, and they’re true. “Everyone told me that a relationship with you would be inappropriate.. but I was too persistent and too selfish. I’m so sorry Kook. You must’ve been so shocked when I yelled at you and when I.. opened that shower curtain,” you finish, shaking your head in embarrassment.
When you finally complete the sentiment, you tilt your head upwards to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows pinch in confusion, and his mouth is slightly agape. “What?” he asks breathlessly, eyebrows pinching even further. He runs a tired hand over his face. “Y/N- just- I can’t believe you said that. Y/N, I love you. And I don’t care if you’re clingy, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks of us.”
You gasp at his words, a profound sense of emotion absolutely overwhelming you.
“What I care about is what you think of me, and whether you’re happy,” His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand and looks right into your eyes to properly convey his sincerity. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. You were just going through so much shit and I didn’t know if you were in the right headspace or if you were even serious about how you felt for me-”
He stops when you yank your hands away from him, using the back of your hands to wipe the tears streaming down your face. The shapes of his eyes turn into little crescents, petrified at your reactions. He removes your hands from your face, holding your wrists.
“Y/N, don’t cry. Please say something.”
“Jungkook, it’s too late. I-I don’t think I can do this- with you- I mean,” is all you’re able to say and Jungkook’s chest tightens impossibly.
His heart drops to your stomach, a crestfallen expression morphing onto his handsome features. “I-is that how you really feel?”
Another tear streams down your face and Jungkook itches to wipe it but suppresses that urge.
“I love you Jungkook. I do. I really do!” you cry out, “But I can’t date you, ever. I never want to lose you,” you sob between sniffles. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m sure of it!”
The situation is bitterly ironic. Jungkook spent months tiptoeing around his feelings, your feelings, because he wanted to ensure he was what you wanted. Even when you blatantly threw yourself at him, he made the conscious decision to not pursue you. He spent months deciding your feelings for you- and now you’re telling him you don’t want him and he can’t do anything but accept it.
“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I’ll always be here. Even if you change your mind.. I’ll always be here.”
“Jungkook, I lost my whole family. You’re all I have left,” you explain, trailing off a little bit, “If I lose you then I have nobody.”
“No, I swear- Y/N, you’re it for me, and I mean it.”
You sniffle, wiping your cheeks, eyes, and nose once more. “What- hiccup- does that mean?”
“It means… whatever you want it to mean,” he concludes.
“Jungkook…” you trail off, “Don’t wait for me. If you find a girl you like, then you should go for her. All I want is for you to be happy. It’s what you deserve,” you offer him a soft smile, a direct juxtaposition to your tear stained cheeks.
His chest tightens at that and he shakes his head. “You’ll always be my priority. Me? I’ve dated enough girls, I can be single for the rest of my life.”
You immediately swat his chest at the sentiment. “No, Jungkook. You should be with someone who takes care of you, not someone you have to take care of all the time. I’ll just always be your family friend who had a stupid crush on you in college.” Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere is futile and makes Jungkook’s scowl deepen.
“You’re more than that to me. You’ll always be.” His hand latches onto yours, and you pull yourself from him.
“No Jungkook.. I’ve made up my mind. I really don’t think we could ever…” When your voice breaks and more tears accumulate in your waterline, Jungkook stops you, not wanting to cause you any more pain.
“I got it, Y/N. But just know I’ll always be here… in any way you’ll take me.”
READ PART 2 HERE
taglist: @babycandy111 @jk97bam @bellagrayson-wayne @honeeybunneey (can't be tagged), @talyaaas-blog , @jjeonjjk7 , @lovingkoalaface , @rvck0lover (can't be tagged), @kissyfacekoo , @dontcribuyabag (can't be tagged), @ash07128 , @cinnamonbambii , @jeon-ruby , @starlight-1010 , @hellbornsworld , @dodoneck, @papiibuprofen , @canyon-lwt , @appleh4ad , @screamertannie , @jeonjenny (can't be tagged), @ahgasegotarmy116 , @badaismygf (can't be tagged), @oopscoop , @gabsrecs , @hiii-priestess , @junniesoleilkth (can't be tagged) , @caro134340lina , @ellesalazar
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Love In a Hopeless Place
Chapter 1
Hey all! This is Dany (they/them) and its my first time writing a fanfic, so please be nice :) This will be multiple chapters but I'm not sure how many, so we will see how this goes! This chapter is mostly set up :)
Lucifer x prostitute fem!Reader
Word Count:2.6k words
CW: Mentionings of suggestive sexual content, prostitution, angst, sadness, depression (there will be more fluff/smut in later chapters)
Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9|
Light of the morning started to stream into the large bedroom through a small gap in the curtains, the light hitting at just the right angle as the light slowly moved throughout the morning until the light started to cascade down the face King of Hell.
Lucifer began to blink his eyes open, groan, and shift away from the thin line of light that had disturbed him from his well fought for sleep. After a few minutes he sighed, lifted his head up high enough to look at the clock before letting his head drops back into the pillow with a groan.
"Too early," Lucifer mumbled to himself against his pillow. But after a few more minutes, he started to stretch and sit up in bed, because he needed to, because he was the King and eventually there would be some meeting or paperwork that he would need to attend to.
Lucifer briefly glanced over to the side of his bed, her side of the bed, well... not anymore. Not for the last seven years. He felt a familiar tightness start to form in his chest as he stared at it.
Lucifer shook his head as if to try and shake the bittersweet memories of his life with Lilith away, crawled out of bed, and went to his wardrobe to find some clothes for the day before the sad thoughts could stop his momentum. He put on his signature white and red suit adorned with little gold details, black bowtie and boots. He did the best he could to smooth out his messy blonde hairs before popping on his hat that was wrapped in a golden snake, along with an apple and a crown. Reminders of Eden.
Looking at himself in the mirror he looked pleased with his outfit, thinking of how if he looks fun, he will feel fun, and if he feels fun, he can get through another boring day... probably. Lucifer grabbed his cane and left the room to go to his study, flashing his big toothy charismatic grin to his staff and getting a quick update about his meeting later with the Sins from his secretary as he walked down the hallway.
As he got to his study, the maid was finishing setting up his breakfast for him at his desk. She turned, gave Lucifer a quick bow before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Lucifer turned to his desk and dropped the smile, something about it felt a little more painful today. He chalked it up to one of those days when he really didn't get good sleep, as opposed to the nights of just... regular bad sleep.
Lucifer ran his hands down his face and looked at the stacks of disorganized paperwork covering his desk, and sighed before taking a sip of his morning tea.
He sat down and got to work on the paperwork, trying to get as much done as he could before the meeting he had later that afternoon. It was gonna be a long day
____________________________________________________________
Before long, Lucifer was off to his meeting. He normally hates meetings, but he enjoyed getting to see some of the Sins, like Bee and Asmodeus, so that made it at least a little more tolerable. The meeting went by rather quickly, luckily, because most of the other Sins also normally hate meetings, and if the ran too long, people like Mammon would start complaining.
Asmodeus was the best one to have at meetings, he normally was in a good mood and either contributed ideas or was good at getting Mammon to shut up for a few extra minutes so that Lucifer could finish. Unfortunately, Asmodeus was also really good at picking up on when Lucifer's smile felt a little more forced than usual.
After the meeting, the other sins started to leave, and Asmodeus quickly grabbed Lucifer's attention before he teleported back home.
"Ah, Ozzie! What can I do for you, my friend?" Lucifer said turning towards his friend with a smile and a flick of his cane.
"Are you... doing ok Lucifer?" Asmodeus said cautiously, all three of his faces showing slight concern.
"Well ya of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Lucifer shifted a little as he stood, leaning slighting more on his cane, fidgeting with his suit jacket, and looking behind Asmodeus to check that everyone else was gone.
Shit, was it that obvious? I thought I keeping it together well, Lucifer thought to himself.
"Well... its just that... how do I put this... " Asmodeus put his hands together, and sighed, "You seem a little tense. Not like in a way that everyone can see, though. But... I just know you," he said putting a hand on his hip.
Lucifer deflated a little, dropped his smile and crossed his arms, "Fine. I just... didn't sleep well last night... I guess"
"Because?" Asmodeus asked, knowing there was probably more to it.
"Just the usual stuff, feeling lonely, boring meetings, more paperwork than I can deal with, its just all... ugh... draining..." Lucifer said sadly.
Asmodeus frowned, "And what do you do when you are feeling this way?"
Lucifer thought for a few minutes while, messing with his cane, "Lock myself in my office and make rubber ducks... or... stare at my ceiling... for hours."
Asmodeus rubs a hand down his main face before sighing and looking again at Lucifer, "If I may, Lucifer, you need to do something other than rubber ducks or staring at walls. I mean, there is nothing wrong with the duck. Just maybe try to get out there? Make some new connections, talk to someone other than just your staff, the Sins, or the Overlords. Literally anyone."
Lucifer scoffed, "Like who? I don't know if I am ready to try building anything with anyone again yet." Lucifer said looking at the ground.
"Well... when was the last time you talked to Charlie?" said Asdomeous
Lucifer flinched at hearing the name of his estranged daughter, they had not been close for a long time, not since she was small, definitely not since Lilith left him.
"Like... a month ago over the phone. We only ever talk for a few minutes at a time for small things... I don't know if she really wants anything to do with me. Or what I would even say to her" Lucifer said softly.
Asmodeus sighed, "Well you could always hire a prostitute or something to keep you company." He chuckled to himself.
Lucifer looked up as Asmodeus and blinked "I beg your pardon?"
Asmodeus holds up his hands innocently, "I'm just kidding!"
Lucifer looked off to the side and though for a second about the idea.
"Wait, are you actually considering it?" Asmodeus asked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.
"Maybe. I guess... I could try it out and... if I don't like it or them I just never have to see them again... Right?" Lucifer looks at Asmodeus, who returned an encouraging nod. "But I don't know how the process works though, also, I kinda don't want it getting out that I've hired a prostitute," Lucifer said hesitantly, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair as he starts to stress about the idea.
Asmodeus' three faces lit up with joy, "Well lucky for you, I am just the guy to help you with this!" Cuz you know he is the Sin of Lust and all.
Asmodeus grabbed out his phone and started typing furiously while Lucifer looked on confused, curious, and a little nervous.
"I'm sending you my favorite recommendations, they always have the best options for prostitutes/call girls, and are always discreet. You can even use a fake name, maybe have a driver go pick them up, and pay in cash! Nothing gets traced back to you. I've helped some other Sins and Overlord get set up before." Asmodeus chimed as he wrote out his text to Lucifer, and then paused and looked up at him with a little bit of nervous regret for letting that last comment slip. "But you didn't hear that from me."
Lucifer mimed a motion of zipping his lips, locking it, and throwing the key behind him as he gave Asmodeus a wink.
Asmodeus smiled, then went back to his text "Ok, you will just need to call them and tell them what type of person you want, ok? I've put them in order of my most to least value places, they are all good though."
Lucifer continued to think about this new idea, a mix of emotions swirling in his stomach. He hated that it came to this, but Asmodeus was right, he was so fucking lonely and burnt out that he could not stand it. Lucifer didn't really know what he needed, but maybe a night of emotionally detached sex would blow off some steam. Worst case was that he hated it and sent the prostitute home early with a "sorry for wasting your time" tip. Ya... this could work.
______________________________________________________________
A couple hours later:
The phone began to ring in a smoke-filled room that was only lit up by a few dim lamps and some neon lights flashing in the window that flashed things like "Girls, GIrls, Girls", pictures of dicks, and boobs, the standard classy brothel window decor. A short, stout pig-looking man coughed, cleared his throat, and picked up the phone.
"Luxurious Lady's Lounge, how may we service you today?" the man said in his most charismatic voice, but not without hints of sleaze leaving their own lingering notes.
The man on the phone was requesting a companion for the night and asked for discreet services.
"No problem chief, we use codenames for a lot of our clients and ladies. How would you like to be addressed?" asked the pig-man.
The man on the phone hesitant for a moment before responding with with name, Lance.
"Alright, Lance, and what kind of companionship are you looking for tonight?" asked the man, now starting to eye the available options of people in the room as the man on the phone spoke.
Across the room, closer to one of the few lamps in the room, you sat lounging on one side of a large soft couch, waiting for your next possible client after just finishing an in-house session. You were a newer resident of hell, only had died a few months prior, and had found yourself in hell. A little disappointing, but not surprising, as the life you had been born into did not give you many chances to do much more than accept the opportunities that helped you scrape by, none of those opportunities being very virtuous, and that is what you still continue to do here in hell.
Upon arriving, you had quickly learned in hell that money unfortunately still mattered, which meant you still needed a job, and most jobs in general were awful, but you just needed something. During your first couple weeks in hell you looked at your options, until eventually Larry, the pig-man on the phone found you and took a likely to you, which led to you taking the job here. It was fine, sex was fun, it paid the bills, and you didn't think that sex would ever mean anything more than a fun pastime in hell, so why not?
"Alrighty! Well lucky for you Lance, I have just the girl for you." Larry laughed as he looked across the room at you and gave you a wink with one of his red eyes. "Her name is (y/n), and she will be ready for you at 9 pm sharp. Sound good?"
New client, 9 pm. You look at the time, you have an hour. You start to walk up to the desk, but wait for Larry to finish the call to get deals.
"Ok great, she will be ready for pick up then," Larry hangs up the call and turns to look at you as he takes a drag off of his cigarette. "Alright baby doll, you got a new one for the night, code name is Lance, wants to keep it discreet. Got it? Just looking for a nice, sweet girl to show him a good time, lonely bachelor type, and he will be sending a car for you at 9 pm. Make sure to be out there early and looking pretty, ok?" he said wiggling his eyebrows.
"Of course," you said smiling. You turned on heel to go back to the make up room to get ready. Sometimes his sleaze made you feel a little uneasy, but he looked out for you and, at least from the rumors you heard, you would later be here then working for some hot shot like Valentino who gets a temper with his employees. At least Larry kept his hands to himself, but his gaze always roamed freely.
As you start to walk back you hear another woman's voice hiss out, "Oooooo baby doll is getting a chauffeur, he sounds rich, make sure you don't fuck it up sweety!" followed by a group of obnoxious giggles.
Ugh, Cynthhhhia. One of the mean girls of the lounge, a snake-woman with a viperous attitude. She hangs around three other girls that are only slightly more tolerable when they are not hanging around her.
You continue walking to the back room without breaking your stride or looking at her, only responding with a sly smile and a "well maybe if you weren't such a mythic bitch, Larry would schedule you with some high rollers too, Cynthia."
"That's Cynthhhhia you li-" and the sound is cut off as you walk through the door to the back. All you can hear is the murmured yelling of Cynthhhhia and Larry trying to get her to shut up. She was mean to everyone, no one really knew why, or cared. You learned pretty quickly that it was better not to get pulled into the drama, but sometimes you couldn't help but throw a quick jab back at her.
Satisfied with yourself, you sit down to freshen up your makeup. New clients sometimes made you nervous because you never knew what to expect, but that was also half the fun. You liked getting to know new people, people seemed to like you well enough, you already had a few regulars that requested you frequently and tipped well. It wasn't glamourous, but it was something.
You finish up by putting on a simple pretty dress that was more appropriate for your journey through the public than the lacy lingerie you were wearing, partly because the client asked for the interaction to be discreet, also because you have learned that clients like to have a "reveal" of sorts most of the time. The look on their faces was always fun.
You look at the clock, it was almost time. You get on your long black coat that was lined with faux fur I mean you may be in hell, but you still didn't feel good about real fur jackets, and you walk out to the front of the brothel to wait for the car.
After a few minutes of waiting and a couple of cat calls from men walking down the street, a nice black car puts up front. A man in a suit rolls down the window and looks out at you with a stoic face, "y/n?"
You give a little wave and say "That's me, baby."
The man nods and the back door unlocks. You slide in and close the door. As the car starts to drive off you settle into the soft car seats, mentally getting ready for another night of work.
———————————————————————
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want added to the tag list for future chapters! 💖
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer smut#hazbin hotel#fanfic writing#fanfiction
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Saimota Week 2024 is happening!
Hi Danganronpa community! Saimota Week is coming back this year under two hosts: @chatot and @toxicpineapple!
It will be running from March 17 until March 23, 2024!
See below for this year's graphic made by the talented @nebulaleaf! The prompts will be transcribed below.
Day One - March 17: Eclipse / Orbit
Day Two - March 18: Pride / Jealousy
Day Three - March 19: Motivation / Regret
Day Four - March 20: Sunrise / Sunset
Day Five - March 21: Floating / Grounded
Day Six - March 22: Simulation / Reality
Day Seven - March 23: Free Space!
When posting your piece, please tag this blog so we can see your wonderful entries! Each one will be boosted to this blog. Please also use the tags [ #saimotaweek2024 ] and [ #saimotaweek ] just in case any fall through!
For information regarding rules and guidelines, see below the cut! If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask to this blog, or you may message @chatot or @toxicpineapple otherwise!
Rules and Guidelines
NSFW creations will not be allowed for this event, meaning this event is SFW only.
"Problematic" content is stricly forbidden for this event. This includes incest, age gap, and shota/loli.
AI generated content and stolen works are not allowed. You may reference or use another person's artwork or fanfic for an entry IF you have PERMISSION and CREDIT.
Please be respectful to other participants! Anyone who harasses another participant or leaves hurtful comments will be banned from this event.
Polyamorous ship content that includes others with Shuichi and Kaito is allowed! For example, content featuring romantic training trio or Shuichi/Kaito/Kaede will be boosted. However, Shuichi and Kaito must still directly date each other within these pieces.
Cis genderbends are not allowed. However, any and all trans headcanons (including trans genderbends) are allowed and welcomed!
You are allowed to use the prompts as loosely as you please for your pieces.
Feel free to make your pieces outside of canon! AUs, crossovers, and canon divergence are allowed.
All entries must focus on the romantic relationship between Shuichi and Kaito. However, content featuring them in a queerplatonic relationship is allowed and will be boosted.
Late submissions will be accepted indefinitely! They will be boosted, but please make sure to tag this blog so we see them!
As Saimota Week 2024 approaches closer, we will be posting countdowns as reminders. We can't wait to see your pieces!
Thanks for reading! :D
#saimota#shuichi saihara#kaito momota#saimota week#saimota week 2024#saimomo#momosai#shuichi x kaito#kaito x shuichi
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A BREAK FROM STUDYING
A Jimmy Mcgill/Saul Goodman x Cis Female reader Y/N fanfic?
TBH this is my first time posting my work on Tumblr so I’m still figuring out the formatting. This story is smut based... like heavily smutty and gross so you have been warned. If you like it enough for me to make it a series let me know!
NOW TAKING REQUESTS!
CONTAINS: age gap, daddy k!nk, cream pie, mild squirting, public(ish) sex.
CONTEXT: You have been working with Jimmy in the mail room for years now and have always had a puppy love schoolgirl sort of crush on him since you first met, but always thought it wasn’t reciprocated. Now, one night, he shows just how badly he’s wanted you this whole time while you try to study for the bar exam.
I only had another week left until the bar exam and I spent most of my time either working in the mailroom of HHM or studying in doc review. Howard had been supportive enough, allowing me extra time to focus on my studies, all while also paying for my school costs — even if it was just through the local community college. Go Suncats! Honestly, this had been the most support I had ever received. Maybe if I grew up having more support, I would be going to Harvard instead.
“Heya y/n.” I heard the familiar raspy and pitchy tone of Jimmy as he leaned in the doorway of doc review, where I hunched over a textbook, an empty coffee cup, and a tear-stained notebook.
“It’s like — almost midnight. What are you still doing here?” I asked, not taking my eyes off my pen and paper.
I heard his footsteps get closer and the chair beside me pull out and creek as he sat beside me. “I have my reasons.” He answers in a half-assed manner.
I turned to face him, the dim lamp highlighting his playful smile and I felt my core grow weak and mushy for him.
The first time I had met Jimmy Mcgill I was working in the mail room, trying to get a job as an assistant or a paralegal for one of the partners. Freshly twenty-three with a bright and optimistic view of the world — full of drive and childish ambition. I was so focused on work and starting classes that I hadn’t taken any time to unwind — let alone care about boys or dating or anything like that. But the first time I met the mysterious brother to Chuck Mcgill, I’ll admit it was like I became a sappy, sick puppy dog. Sure, he was older — a little bit of a loser. But I was weak for the funny pathetic underdogs. Not to mention he was flirty and funny and fed into my childish delusions of how I could “fix him.” I flirted back, wore short skirts, wore the hoop earrings he complimented once, and wore my hair loose and fun. I tried. But for some reason, it never went past harmless office flirtation. I assumed maybe it was the age difference. Maybe he was uncomfortable with being with someone as young as me. Maybe he was just trying to do the right thing but not giving in to temptation with me.
Now I was almost twenty-seven, and though the schoolgirl crush had dulled a little, there were times when I would catch myself looking at him like he could move heaven and earth. Like in this moment as he sat next to me in the dimly lit document room. So I cleared my throat and turned back to the papers in front of me.
“Admit you just missed me.” I teased as the smallest of smiles tugged on the corners of my lips.
“Objection. That’s hearsay.” He teased back, leaning closer as he slid my favorite energy drink across the table with a single finger — the condensation leaving a small streak of liquid on the wood top. “Some of us went out for drinks, and I noticed you weren’t there. Ernesto said you were here studying.”
“Yeah, yeah he came and asked if I wanted to go but —” I shrugged, motioned to all the school work displayed in front of me.
“You work too hard. You should take a break and come back out with us.”
He carefully takes the pen from my fingers, puts the cap back on and sets it aside. It was a subtle and simple thing he did but I felt my skin grow warm.
“I wish I could, but — I just have a lot to study still, and the exam is —”
“ — a week away.” He interrupts me. “Which means you have time to take one tiny break out of your evening to have a little fun and destress.”
“I don’t know, Jimmy.”
“Oh, come on, y/n. It’ll be good for you!” He inches so close I can almost taste his cologne and the head and shoulders 2-in1 shampoo. “Come on — for me?”
And with that, I knew. I knew he knew that I had a stupid schoolgirl crush on him and he was using it against me, and fuck — it was working. I tried to fight a smile, shaking my head as my cheeks flushed pink.
“Fine — whatever,” I said, slamming my book shut. “but only because you seem so desperate.”
He stands up with the dumbest grin. “See? That’s my girl.”
I stand up, fixing my skirt that had ridden up, my thigh exposed past my thigh-highs, maybe even a bit of my black panties. I wasn’t thinking much of it until I caught a glimpse of Jimmy eyeing me like a lion eyeing a gazelle. It was unexpected, unfamiliar. He had looked at me before in a more appreciative way. This time it seemed more lustful, more desperate even, and it caused my chest and legs to grow hot. I could feel wetness going in between my legs, and for a moment, I got embarrassed.
“I just, uh — I just have to put this stuff in my car, and then we can —” As I was talking, he moved closer, not helping my flustered state. I stopped in my tracks, looking up at him.
I was about to say something. I was about to walk past him and run out of the room but his hands slid around my waist and I nearly forgot how to breathe. His bottom lip was pressed by his teeth, his brows furrowing in what looked like deep thought. Though it wouldn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking about.
“Jimmy —” I said, his name barely above a whisper.
“Look — am I totally crazy for thinking that you — that you want me?” He asked, head tilting just slightly as his eyes didn’t leave my own. “If I’m making shit up in my head tell me now and I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened. But if I’m right —”
I was so thrown off guard. This whole time I thought he didn’t want me. This whole time I thought I was too young for him or that maybe I wasn’t his type. But here we stood with his grip around my waist firm and hungry and waiting for direction.
“I —” I looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He wanted me so bad in this moment he couldn’t even hide it. Without much thought, I got on my toes and pulled his neck down into my kiss. He let out a pleasantly surprised whimper, his grip moving down lower to cup my ass as he pulled me into his bulge. I could feel it stabbing me and twitching. I let out a soft and involuntary moan.
“I wanna feel how wet you are.” He groaned into my ear, sliding his right hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers on the outside of my soaked panties. He smiled, placing a rather fervent kiss on my neck and biting my skin gently. “Fuck — you’re so wet. You’re dripping.”
“Mhmm — you make me that way.” I practically moaned the words as he moved my panties off to the side and slid one of his fingers inside me, the wet sounds loud and affirming just how badly my body wanted him.
“Come here.” He pulled his finger out of me, making me whine in protest as his hands wrapped around my waist to hoist me on the edge of the table.
At this point, I was panting, aching, my pussy pulsing for him to touch me. He shoved his index and middle fingers in his mouth and lubricated them with his own spit before shoving them into my soaking pussy without so much as a warning. I gasped, smiling, laying back on the table as he positioned my legs over his shoulders.
At first, he started off with a gentle, slow rhythm. In and out. With every push of his fingers, I could feel him pressing against my walls, making my back arch. “Faster.” I pleaded. And with that he was picking up the pace, ramming his fingers into me with force and speed. I couldn’t even handle it, my legs tried to shut as I began to feel overstimulated, but he pried them open and continued to finger-fuck me while I wiggled and writhed on the table beneath him.
I let out a loud moan that was followed by his hand cupping around my mouth to stifle my pathetic little noises. I had forgotten where we were and that anyone could just walk in and see us this way.
“You like that? Do my fingers feel good?” He was getting off on making me feel good, it was easy to tell. He was boosting his ego by making himself feel good by making me cum all over his fingers.
“Mhhhmm” I mumbled under his hand as my eyes opened and looked up at him.
“God — you’re so beautiful.” He said, staring down at me. “Be a good girl and don’t get us in trouble, okay?” He laughed a breathless laugh as he lifted his hand from my mouth. “You’re getting wetter.” He said with a pleased smirk.
“I’m so close, Jimmy, please —” and with my pitiful begging, he finger-fucked me harder, this time with three fingers while his other hand played with my clit. “I — I’ll make a mess.” I confessed, more like a warning.
“Good.” He said, not slowing his pace or showing me mercy as my body tensed and my back arched.
“Fuck — fuck I’m coming —” I squealed, wiggling around as I started to squirt just a little in between every push of his fingers — my wetness drenched his entire hand and forearm. He just kept going, too, making me moan and writhe around, all pathetic and out of control of my own body. It felt good, though, to not be in control for once. My mind wasn’t thinking about the bar exam, bills, or moving up in HHM. Truth be told, it was just thinking about Jimmy and the way he was making me feel.
“Ah fuck — you’re so sexy.” He said, taking his drenched hand and slowly pulling it away from me, pressing it to his mouth and licking the tips of his fingers. “I knew you’d taste so good.” I grinned a little, out of breath and panting on the table.
My eyes wandered to his disheveled hair and his cocky smile, then to his soaked hand that reached into his pants and pulled his erect cock out. He didn’t even need to hold it, it just stood there on its own — ready.
I slowly sat up on my elbows, practically drooling over his cock, which was bigger than I had imagined. “I want you to fuck me with that.” I confessed, looking back up at his glazed-over eyes.
He didn’t even say anything. He just grabbed me by the waist like he did before and flipped me over on the table with my ass and pussy exposed. I stuck my ass out just a little more, begging for his cock. But before he stuck it in me he kissed me down from the back of neck, down my spine, and then left a little bit on my ass cheek. Then without much warning he was shoving his hard cock into my still-soaking wet pussy. I gasped and groaned, tilting my head back at the feeling.
“Ah — fuck.” he nearly whimpered, already breathing heavily as he started off with a slow and steady pace. He leaned over me and pressed his lips to the top back of my head while he said, “I want you to call me daddy.”
I let out a soft whimper in understanding. “Please fuck me harder, daddy.”
“Good girl,” he said, fucking me harder and shoving his cock deep into me, ramming into my walls and making me whimper with every thrust. His left hand came up to the back of my head and tangled in my hair as his right hand gripped my waist firm in place as he continued to fuck me.
“Just like that, daddy, don’t stop.” I moaned, banging my hands on the table with nothing to hold onto.
He gripped my hair harder, lifting my head up as he thrust into me even more fervently — nothing but the sound of our whimpers and moans and skin slapping together.
“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He moaned, reaching his hand from my waist to my clit and rubbing it to the rhythm of his thrusting. It only made me moan and shake more.
“I want you to cum inside me, daddy.” I confess, biting my lower lip.
“Yeah? You want daddies cum to fill you up?”
“Please daddy — please cum for me.” I begged, barely able to get the words out.
He picked up the pace to a new speed I didn't even know anyone was capable of reaching, moaning and groaning and sweating all over my bare ass until he made a pathetic whimper sound then the next thing I knew he was emptying his load into my raw pussy — filling me up with his warmth and sliding his cock almost out of me but not quite. I could feel his cock twitching as he continued to empty himself inside me. The feeling of his cum made me even more hot and flushed.
“Holy shit.” he huffed, slowly removing his now flaccid cock from me. I turned over my shoulder to look at him looking at my cum-filled pussy with an arrogant smirk across his face. He was fucking proud of himself.
I was about to ask for a taste of his cum before we heard footsteps near the mail room. We frantically got ourselves dressed and I rushed to fix the desk and open my book back to make it look like I was still studying. Jimmy fell hard into his seat, hair all sweaty and slightly curled as he zipped up his pants.
Two cleaning ladies came in with their cleaning cart, staring at us with confusion. “Hola, ladies.” Jimmy said, with a simple wave of his hand. “You can, uh, skip this room tonight.”
They looked at each other, nodded, then walked out.
Jimmy turned to me with an amused expression, eyes moving down to the now cum-soaked chair I was sitting in and laughed a little. “Guess we should have let them clean.”
#jimmy mcgill x reader#jimmy mcgill x y/n#saul goodman x reader#saul goodman x y/n#jimmy mcgill smut#saul goodman smut#bcs fanfic#( mine / jimmy mcgill. )#( mine / saul goodman. )
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Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader) — ongoing
read on ao3 here | orange slices playlist | current word count: ~90k
summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos. | You've been on your own since the outbreak started, hopping around from place to place; you’ve kept your head down, doing whatever you need to do to survive. How you feel about love and companionship changes once you meet Joel, and it's something you and him aren't quite sure how to handle.
warnings/tags: post-outbreak, age gap (reader is 24/25 in chapter one), angst, angst w/ a happy ending, slow burn (I’m talking S L O W), eventual romance, canon typical violence, canon divergence, injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort, gun violence, protectiveness, Joel has a soft spot for reader, Joel is bad at feelings, Joel needs a hug, protective!Joel, hurt!Joel, depictions of grief, time jump, eventual smut (I will tag the chapters as 18+ & add warnings to chapters, just because it’s going to be a while before we get there lol), this is going to be a long one my friends…, no beta we die like men, (if I missed anything please let me know!!!)
a/n: This is the first fanfic I’ve written in almost 10 years and I'm new to the character x you/reader writing style, so if anything sounds odd or awkward, I deeply apologize. The story is mainly based on the game, however, I keep it pretty vague so if you like the show depictions better, it should still work. I hope you enjoy!
if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know. After Orange Slices is completed, I will no longer be posting on this account. If you like to continue following my writing, my main account is @urbancowboyjoel.
Chapters:
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen 18+ MDNI
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
coming soon…
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
chapter twenty-seven
chapter twenty-eight
chapter twenty-nine
chapter thirty
there will be more... I just have it outlined up to thirty chapters right now...
Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. ❥
painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings
#farmerlarrry#my fics#joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller angst#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel tlou#joel the last of us#tlou joel#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#tlou fic#the last of us
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y'know something that still trips me up, and please take into account i have only read aftg once and that was 7 years ago (though i have spent those 7 years reading aftg fanfic nearly every day ofc-) is just how much older andrew is than neil???
is it one year? is it two?
bc in fics and stuff most of the time i see a one year gap, even when they meet as children and therefore neil doesnt have to fake-identity age-correct, right?
but! that is precisely my problem. as far i remember, neil josten, originally, is one year older than nathaniel wesninski (using those names for practicality's sake), so when neils birthday comes around, everyone thinks neil turns 19, when in reality he just turned 18 like two months prior (bc neil's b-day is march and nathaniel's is january)
and! at some point in the books the twins have a birthday thats mentioned (nov4, if i remember correctly), and they turn 20
so everyone thinks andrew is one year older than neil, but actually he is two years older than neil? like, physically. and also once the fbi age-corrects neil after they make neil josten a Real Boy
so idk if it actually is two years and the fandom just went "no :)" for whatever reason
or im scrambbling eggs in my brain, and it's actually just one year
(this is entirely irrelevant for everything, but it has been in my mind for seven (7) years-)
(also this is not throwing shade or flaming or anything, i dont really care in any substantial way, more like i care in the way you care about figuring out what that fucking instrumental song thats stuck in your brain is called, we're all chill here)
EDIT: thank you all for your responses, it has been cleared up! i found where my confusion came from, you can read all about my sillyness in my reblog in the notes tab :)
#aftg#all for the game#andrew minyard#neil josten#andreil#tfc#the foxhole court#not fanwork#random fanstuff#neighbor stuff
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❥ PAIRING | human!Ao’nung (16) x human!latino coded!fem!sully!Reader (17)
❥ SUMMARY | ao’nung your school’s #1 heartbreaker he’s already slept with half of the girls at your school but he never take it further than a just casual hookup that is until he meets you after you punch him in the face it’s from that point on he decided your the one he has to have
❥ GENRE | modern au, highschool au, social media au, romance, slice of life, crack
❥ WARNING | slight violence, “stalking”?, one year age gap, slightly suggestive but no actual NSFW, also slight angst, mention of ao’nung being a whore, plz don’t repost my work
banner credits | @stvrlighttrena
PLAYLIST! PROFILES!
* ੈ✩‧₊˚🦭 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚 | 𝙙𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 coming 🔜
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙤 | 𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞’𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 coming 🔜
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 | 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙚𝙩 ? coming 🔜
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 loading chapters…𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
──★ so this inspired by Jungkook’s Seven MV also I’m a sucker for Ao’nung and this fucking trope so why not! I’m actually really excited for this it’s been such a long time since I’ve written for a fanfic and after rewatching atwow it kinda awoke something in me to write something again!
I wrote this with a latina reader in mind cause of Zoe Saldaña and headcanon that Modern!Neytiri would be a mix of Caribbean and Indigenous Latino (Dominican or Haitian). The reader’s physical appearance will not described as Latinos come in a variety of different colors, shapes, and cultures and is a very very diverse community i hope that this doesn’t take away anyone’s experience reading this!
I also wanna know your guys option on the banner that I made it was kinda in a rush might change it later on but we’ll see how it holds up for now! happy reading ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა
©️ stvrlighttrena 2023
#──★ ˙🍓 ̟ 𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨!!#avatar 2009#avatar x reader#modern ao’nung#avatar modern au#modern atwow x reader#modern ao’nung x reader#dad!jake sully x reader#sully family x reader
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They Were Roommates... Eventually
An X-Addendum fanfic
(Part one here.)
(Also posted on AO3.)
(Banner art by Chris Sprouse.)
THE THIRD NIGHT
Some nights, Kitty actually did go to bed at an hour she would not be embarrassed to tell her parents about. To bed, mind you, not to sleep. After two hours which felt like ten, she turned her bedside light back on and stared at the ceiling. Why was she so bad at this? Kitty was not good at being bad at things—and she hated it.
Ah, if she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well get up. There was something nagging at her mind anyway.
Either she was sleepier than she felt or the mansion was haunted—and all things considered, the latter seemed as likely as anything—because try as she might, Kitty could only find one of her slippers. Maybe a Bamf took the other one. She chuckled at the memory of that bedtime story she’d once made up for Illyana. If only the Bamfs were real.
Well, whatever. Her feet would survive without.
Kitty left her room and stepped into the dark, deserted hallways of the mansion.
To be honest, the floors were colder than she expected and she had instant regrets, but curiosity pulled her onward nevertheless.
There was no one in the lounge tonight, and the TV was turned off.
She wandered on.
The door to Illyana’s bedroom stood ajar just a little, and Kitty stuck her head in through the gap without opening it further. Phasing in would have been intrusive, but this was surely fine. If not for the small pile of clothes in a corner, the guest room would have looked unoccupied. The bed was still made.
Kitty had avoided the question because of the hypocrisy of considering it, as she risked sleep deprivation herself every other night, but she wondered how much sleep Illyana actually got. Did she have nightmares often? Every night?
Witnessing her have one had stirred something primal in Kitty—whether it was leftover care for the little girl she used to tuck into bed or guilt over the frightening memories that had made her keep her distance from this teenager, Kitty just couldn’t stand the thought of her whimpering as she was being tormented by whatever she might have gone through during the seconds they had lost her in Limbo which had been seven years to her.
Kitty wished Illyana would tell them. She understood why she hadn’t. Illyana had only known her and the other X-Men briefly when she was so little, and they were probably mostly strangers to her.
With a sigh, Kitty moved on. Unsure of where else to look, she found herself heading towards the kitchen, the usual destination of her midnightly foraging.
When she phased in through the wall—a lazy shortcut good for the dark, because you couldn’t bump your toes into anything while you were phased—it didn’t register with her that the lights were on until she saw the figure sitting at the kitchen table. Although being phased muffled the sound of Kitty’s movement, Illyana must have sensed her presence, because her head snapped around the same instant that Kitty gasped.
“Oh...” she said. “Kitty.” There was still the hint in her eyes that she’d seen someone else at first, but this time she didn’t stumble over Kitty’s name. Perhaps they were both getting used to each other.
“Hi, Illyana!” Kitty replied, pretending with all her might that she hadn’t been startled, and pouring a glass of water from the tap to justify why she was here.
“Ever the restless, nocturnal creature, aren’t you?” Illyana seemed surprised that she’d spoken and quickly wiped away the smile that had formed on her face with the words, but Kitty caught it. Illyana looked like she hadn’t slept a wink since the last time they’d run into each other in the middle of the night, and perhaps her guard was down because of sleep deprivation. Once again, Kitty wondered about nightmares.
She turned to the Russian girl with her glass of water in her hand and pretended she hadn’t heard the slip. “Hey, if you’re up too, I was thinking of putting on a movie. The mansion gets too quiet at night. Wouldn’t mind the company.”
Illyana watched her for a full ten seconds before responding, until Kitty started wondering if she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open. “Yeah, okay,” she said then.
* * *
Kitty hadn’t been planning to watch a movie until those words had come out of her mouth, so she had a bit of trouble picking one and just chose the first decent one that she came across. Maybe Alien wasn’t the ideal movie when you were hoping to get someone to open up about their nightmares, but it only needed to be background noise anyway, and a body could never get enough Sigourney Weaver being bad-ass.
Illyana had already settled cross-legged on the couch when Kitty went to join her, elbow on the arm rest, chin in her hand. Once again Kitty cursed whatever malignant spirit had stolen her slipper—she hadn’t lost it herself, how could you lose one slipper, she was supposed to be smart—because her feet were absolutely freezing by now. But when she shivered and did a cathartic little dance, Illyana had the gall to chuckle, and it felt so comfortably normal that it was almost worth it.
Still, when Kitty plopped down onto the couch, she drew up her legs and pushed her toes underneath Illyana’s leg to warm up in retaliation. It didn’t strike her how familiar she was being until a moment later, and she saw Illyana’s eyes widen at the contact. She was about to apologize and withdraw her feet, but then Illyana returned her eyes to the TV and almost seemed to lose a bit of the tension in her body.
So she left her toes where they were. They were just beginning to thaw.
“So, a space movie, hm?” Illyana said. “They tell me my brother was a cosmonaut. Not Piotr, our older brother. Although I guess Piotr has been to space now too.”
She hadn’t seen Alien? Well of course she hadn’t seen Alien. The last time Illyana had been in a world where TV’s were a thing, she’d been too young for Piotr to let Kitty get her anywhere near a movie like this. Getting Illyana to open up tonight had been a long shot anyway—perhaps that was better off as a long-term project, and tonight they could just watch a movie.
“I think you’ll like it,” she said. “You’ll love Ripley, the main character. I mean, you’d better. You don’t have to, but if you don’t I’ll judge you.” Kitty rested her cheek on her drawn-up knees, facing the TV. She felt Illyana shift, perhaps to look at her.
“I’ll trust your judgment,” she said, and it felt like a weighty promise.
* * *
“Meine lieben Mädchens, time to wake up.” A hand gently shook Kitty’s shoulder. She shook it off with a grunt, and it was the hearty laugh that followed that woke her properly.
“Kurt? Why are you in my...”
Oh. She was not in her room. Vague memories returned of being lulled to sleep by the screams of people being chased by the Xenomorph. Being an X-Man did strange things to your ideas of restful sounds.
“What time is it?” She looked up at the fuzzy blue elf, who was smiling like he’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Past breakfast,” he said, his eyes moving to somewhere above Kitty’s head. “Danger Room session in fifteen. Although... I could tell Herr Professor that you’re unwell and need to sit this one out. A little test to see if I can fool a telepath.”
“Thanks, Kurt.” She rubbed her eyes, still waking up. “But I’ll be there. Just give me... five minutes...” Too much effort to cover her mouth as she yawned.
“As you wish, liebchen,” Kurt said, and with a BAMF and a puff of sulfur, he teleported out of the room.
Kitty’s pillow shifted, and her eyes opened wide as she suddenly remembered she was not alone. Very carefully, she lifted and turned her head to look. Illyana was still sitting half upright, her head leaning forward. (There was a little drool.) She’d probably have a crick in her neck all day. Somewhere in the night, though, Kitty had shifted to lean against her with her head resting on Illyana’s chest, and perhaps most surprisingly, Illyana had put an arm around her.
It made it tricky to extricate herself without waking the other girl, but Kitty was not going to ruin her perfect attendance, so she did so. If reluctantly, because she’d really been sleeping quite comfortably.
Sleeping Beauty on the couch kept on sleeping, which was a small miracle, considering how aware of her surroundings Illyana always seemed to be. Kitty gave her a closer look. Despite her uncomfortable sleeping position, Kitty had not seen Illyana looking this peaceful since... well, since before Limbo. And there had been no nightmares to wake either of them that night, she was pretty sure.
Suddenly Kurt offering to help her play hooky made sense. Perhaps she’d not been the only one to notice how isolated Illyana had been. Perhaps she was just best equipped to offer a non-threatening hand, age and gender-wise. Something to think about.
But later, because right now, she had five minutes left to get dressed and get to the Danger Room. “Oh, crumbs!”
(Part four.)
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good ace attorney fanfics.
according to me. im the worlds pickiest fanfic reader tho so if i say its good its good. mainline series; here's good dgs fics
Trilogy centric:
and we'll toast these stunning ruins by ohallows [~9k; oneshot]
He pulls the door open and all his thoughts grind to a halt. Miles Edgeworth is standing there, dripping with rain and looking a bit like a drowned cat. If Phoenix was being honest, he’d almost forgotten about him being back amidst the chaos of the day and the conversation with Maya. It’s a novel experience, actually; he can’t remember a time when Edgeworth wasn’t hovering, wanted or not, near the forefront of his mind. But he’s here - he’s real, standing on Phoenix’s doorstep in his dingy hallway in an apartment complex that probably costs less than Edgeworth’s entire salary, looking awkward as all hell.
[wonderful expansion on the whole Thing Phoenix & Edgeworth have going on during Farewell my Turnabout. its so messy i love them. General stamp of approval also on everything this author writes.]
Marriage, Magic, Misunderstandings by theacegrace [~20k; oneshot]
When Mr. Nick gets disbarred, Pearl decides there is no better opportunity than this for him to finally move to Kurain Village so he can be with Mystic Maya. With the help of Mr. Nick’s new daughter, she decides to plan the perfect wedding for the two of them, and won’t let anything get in her way. After all, Mr. Nick and Mystic Maya are in love… aren’t they? (AKA: Pearl and Trucy plan a wedding, and neither parties involved want it.)
[Love how this one takes a joke from the games that is stupid and often uncomfortable and gives it such depth and weaves a beautiful story out of that. Shoutout to ao3 user theacegrace everything they write is a banger.]
A False Start by theacegrace [~50k; 5 chapters]
Twenty-one year old Miles Edgeworth finds himself reconsidering his perceptions of State vs Fawles after running into an old friend at a train station, carrying a suspicious necklace and in a relationship with a suspicious woman. And perhaps he could ignore it, except it’s a little hard for him to ignore a particularly clingy, emotionally volatile Phoenix Wright. AU. Miles and Phoenix meet while Phoenix is still in college. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
Apollo Justice (game) centric:
Alternative Dispute Resolution by FaustianAspirant [~19k; 5 chapters]
In a fit of impulsiveness, Klavier asks Apollo on a date. Unexpectedly, Apollo accepts, but under one condition: in the interests of avoiding further awkwardness, Klavier must resolve his remaining differences with Phoenix Wright. What follows is excruciating for everyone involved.
[This is my favorite Klavier fic. It has everything a girl could want: exploration of the small glimpses we got of whatever the hell is going on with Klavier Gavin (& his brother) in aa4, resolution on Klav and Phoenix's relationship, and the best fake Gavinners song & album titles I've ever had the pleasure to read. If nothing else, read this one for this line:
How fitting, though, that he is destined to be a martyr for love! It’s just like in that track on the Gavinners’ third album, ‘I Would Do Anything for Judicial Impartiality (And Also Love)’, or that other track on the Gavinners’ third album, ‘Stop in The Name of The Legal Authority I Legitimately Wield (And Also Love)’.
Also like, the rest of it. Perhaps the best thing about this fic is how it manages to weave absolutely insane ace attorney bullshit like the Gavinners song titles with such depth of characters and emotions.]
Fuel for the Funeral Pyre by MoominQuartz [~7k; oneshot]
Kristoph Gavin wants him dead? That’s fine. Phoenix Wright wants him dead a thousand times more. If he expects Phoenix to lie down and let the snake bite him, that just means he won’t be looking for the trap lying in wait. A look into Phoenix's head during the seven-year gap
Everything Good (Eventually Hurts) by Wildfey [~10k, oneshot]
Phoenix: I'm talking about evidence that shouldn't have existed. A naughty magician's trick...
The second time that Trucy's life falls completely, irrevocably off its rails, it’s a Friday, and she doesn’t even notice. A story about what Trucy was doing during the events of Turnabout Trump.
[everything by this author is also good 👍]
The Phoenix, and Other Early Birdsby Wildfey [~100k; 16 chapters]
Wright grimaces. “Sorry to tell you this, but as of six hours ago, I’m officially a stay-at-home dad rather than a lawyer. I might be able to recommend you someone else if-” “That’s why I’m here!” Apollo half-yells, and then feels the tips of his ears flush because he just shouted over Phoenix Wright. “I know we’ve never met before, Mr Wright, but I think you’re being framed, and I want to help you clear your name!” ~*~ In which Apollo is 15, Trucy is 8, and Phoenix is very confused as to where all these children keep coming from. (Also known as the 'Apollo goes to the Enigmar trial AU')
Wrong from Right (Wright from Wrong) by Wildfey [~9k; oneshot]
“I’m not sure what exactly you want, Herr Wright,” he says instead, flattens his voice down so neither anger nor tears leak through, and tries not to wince at the fact it defaults to friendly but distant charm instead. Like Wright’s an overenthusiastic fan who’s caught him while he’s busy and won’t take a hint. Wright knocks a fist against the doorframe, somewhat absent-mindedly. “I want lunch,” he says, finally. “The bus takes forever, give me a lift back into the city, will you?” In which Klavier and Phoenix are smart enough to finally have that conversation about the past, and dumb enough to do it in two parking lots and a burger barn drive-thru. There's no accounting for taste.
disillusioned twenty-something(s) by kitelines [~2k; oneshot]
She’s known him only a week, but it’s already clear to her that Klavier Gavin has high expectations of the world around him. And Ema hates people who have high expectations. It’s unrealistic. It’s blind naïvety. You have high expectations, and you set yourself up to fail. It’s something she’s seen time and time again. And it’s a lesson Gavin needs to learn, starting off small—because it’s 8AM at a murder scene in a 7/11 and he’s already dipped his hand into her bag of Snackoos that she’d taken the only one grieving. (Post AA4, Klavier-centric, not shippy.)
The Devil's Brother by ItsyRoyal [~6k; oneshot]
When Vera is lost in grief and afraid to face the empty studio where her father should be, Klavier offers her a place to stay. She quickly realizes she's not the only one grieving. (Post AA4, Klavier-centric, not shippy.)
In Better Light by cosmogyral & sunsmasher [~60k; 7 chapters]
Apollo’s been stationed at the Los Angeles Shatterdome for just over a week before a young woman his exact height pops out of a basement stairwell and says, “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
* AA4/Pacific Rim fusion. Apollo and Trucy save the world. Phoenix and Edgeworth help.
[I think about this AU every fucking day. there's goddamn themes and narratives in here; this is the absolute pinnacle of what fanfic aus can do. someday in the distant future i hope to be able to create something half as incredible as this. also; both of the authors generally have good works]
forty years in the wilderness (and the following holiday weekend) by sunsmasher [9k; oneshot]
Miles Edgeworth comes home five weeks after Phoenix finishes rebuilding the jury trial system with his own two fucking hands.
[bookmarker's note: augh, yeah.]
no feeling (is final) by zombiekittiez [5k; oneshot]
Mr. Wright marks the date on their official wall calendar, a freebie from the grocery store that features seasonal produce. “Not every day you get to see a murderer marry the guy she framed for it,” he quips. ~~ Alita Tiala serves three years in the state penitentiary; Wocky Kitaki marries her anyway.
[bookmarker's note:👍👍👍]
Misc:
selected conversations from the magisteel discord server by liilllyyyy [~30k; oneshot]
A comedy of errors, ft. Discord shenanigans, friendship, gay pining and more!! aka. Miles Edgeworth and Maya Fey co-run a Steel Samurai/Evil Magistrate discord server; neither knows who the other is. What happens next will shock you
[This is the only chatfic ever. no chatfic will ever be this.]
The Catch-Up Game by theacegrace [~60k; 9 chapters]
With his daughter away for the year on a magic show tour, Phoenix’s life is upended enough as it is. The realization that his childhood best friend and courtroom rival may be in love with him, and the complicated feelings that come with that, are the last things he needs. Written for narumitsu week 2020, each chapter loosely based around the prompts: family, marriage, free day, pining, opposites, AU, hurt/comfort, and future.
[I've read this one multiple times, and it's still the Definitive Phoenix Fic in my head. This is the culmination of his development throughout the games that I had wanted so badly, and for that it has the absolute highest honors a fanfic can get in my head. 10000/10]
pressure (pushing down on me) by ApprenticeofDoyle [~130k; 7 chapters]
Dahlia Hawthorne is going to prison, and Phoenix Wright is a free man. Mia Fey takes one look at the glassy-eyed teenager collapsed on her couch and thinks, by the Mother, this kid needs therapy. Luckily, she knows somebody. (Or: Six times that Phoenix Wright needs help, and one time he gets it, without even having to ask.)
The Art of Personal Transfiguration by estelraca [~9k; oneshot]
Athena convinces Simon to stay at her place for a few days while he's getting his feet under him after his release from prison, and the two of them spend some time trying to get to know each other and themselves again. Post-Dual Destinies.
Of Haircuts, Pocketwatch Chains, Other Uninteresting and Undesireable Things, and Generic Wholecloth Christmas Magic by ribbontype [~9k; oneshot]
Phoenix finds an old gift lying around that he had meant to give to Edgeworth years ago, and Edgeworth finds himself obligated to return the favor. Meanwhile, Phoenix continues to live his life. Neither of these things are particularly easy. They are also not as hard as Phoenix and Edgeworth are making them.
[bookmarker's note: this guy fucking gets it]
The Turnabout Job by ribbontype [~15k; 2/6 chapters finished]
“Please, Mr. Edgeworth! Please! You know how the police in this country are - how our laws are. You’ve seen the way people are rewarded when they try to do the right thing the right way,” In a kinder world he could have disagreed with her, but they’re not in a kinder world, they’re in Los Angeles. “I don’t need the police. I need a good man who wants to help.”
Edgeworth makes a mistake that has him straying farther from the path of the courts than he ever has and, even worse, it could mean other people are going to go down with him. After seven long years abroad, his ill-advised stint back in Los Angeles forces a reunion of allies who had long since gone their separate ways. It'll take one last big turnabout to right the wrongs they've done. Just one big job, then everything can go back to normal
[grabs you. ace attorney leverage au]
i havent written anything ace attorney really but i've been your host ao3 user kaetor if you want to see. idk my other bookmarks
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Unknown: Chapter 1
Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC!Hazel Collins
Series Summary: When a 12 year old girl shows up on Dieter's doorstep claiming to be his daughter his world is changed forever.
Rating: 18+ (explicit content)
Word Count: 5,400 (ish)
Warnings: Comedy aspects, fowl language, mentions of past illegal drug usage (cocaine) and marijuana usage, mention of an overdose, heavy drinking, age gap (OC is 12 years younger than Dieter), brief smut, dubious consent (Dieter and Hazel are both drunk)
Author's Note: This fanfic has been a long time coming and I am so excited to start it.
xxx
April 8, 2024
Monday was always a busy day for Dr. Patience Fairehall. Like everyone else her patients were often most stressed going into the work week and a lot of them liked to come into her office to talk about it on the very same day. Others who had three day weekends would come in on Monday so they wouldn't have to take time off from work to have their weekly session with her.
That Monday was particularly busy, every hour booked from seven in the morning to six at night. She only had a half hour break at noon to have lunch and when the time came around she eagerly dug into the office kitchen cupboards for canned chicken noodle soup. After she'd heated up the can's contents in a microwave safe bowl she returned to her office, plopping back down into her seat to shovel it into her mouth. She wasn't proud of her behavior, but she was starved.
Even at the speed she was eating, she'd only managed to consume about half of the soup in the bowl before there was a knock on her office's closed wooden door.
"Come in!" she called out brightly while internally groaning at being interrupted from her meal. Again.
Without a word, Dieter Bravo, one of her neediest patients, charged into the room, scruffy hair looking wilder than she'd ever seen it before - and that was saying something. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving. Patience held back a groan. She knew that look. This wasn't going to be a short encounter. Not for the first time she regretted taking on a handful of actors as patients.
Especially Dieter Bravo. He was classic Hollywood as far as she was concerned. Handsome, confident, and put together on screen. Neurotic and indolent off screen. He had a crazy look in his eye half the time and the other half he was painfully sober, especially since he'd quit using illicit drugs two years ago, just after his talent agent forced him to see a therapist - aka Patience.
When he first started weekly sessions with her Patience hadn't always been convinced he kept clean due to the way he acted during some visits, but he'd cleared every drug test she and his physician had thrown at him. Besides, she'd been around addicts long enough to tell by their pupils whether or not they were under the influence. While Dieter's behavior was...non-conformative sometimes, she'd yet caught him under the influence of any illegal drugs. She had reason to believe her skill set was solid. She had noticed when he walked into her office for a session high on marijuana. He'd only taken just enough to feel something he'd sworn, but it was enough. She didn't go too hard on him then, gently reminding him that the best way to avoid a relapse in using hard drugs was to avoid all recreational drugs. She understood it wasn't easy to quit cold turkey, and it was better that than the cocaine he used to be so fond of and the opioids he used to dabble in.
The way Dieter had just stormed into her office Patience wondered if it was the day she'd have to remind him again about the importance of his recovery.
"You look like you haven't slept a wink, Dieter," she noted, studying the dark lines under his eyes that definitely weren't from the black eyeliner he sometimes wore.
"Cause I haven't," he told her. "We need to talk."
"Dieter, unless this is an emergency, you have to set up an appointment so we can talk properly," Patience informed him.
"This is an emergency!" he claimed, pacing around. "A crisis! My mind's running a mile a minute."
"Are you having difficulty with your sobriety?" Patience asked.
"No. Not really. I could probably use a drink," Dieter rambled. "But I haven't actually considered reaching for a bottle yet."
"Are you having dark thoughts?"
"No."
"Are you having a medical emergency?"
"No."
Patience placed her hands flat on top of her desk. "Then Mr. Bravo, I have to insist you set an appointment and go home and get some rest."
"I'll be quick, please, I'm begging you here," he beseeched, eyes meeting hers.
And just like that she folded like an accordion with a long-suffering sigh. "Alright."
Damn those big brown puppy eyes, she thought.
He immediately flopped on the couch across the room from her desk like a patient in a movie therapist's office, on his back with one hand folded over his stomach, the other shoved into a side pocket of his gray sweatpants.
As he made himself at home she dug into the cabinet behind her for his written file, always having preferred using the solid copies of her patient's histories for successions, though all the information was also added to the office computer program afterwards.
Snatching up a loose pen from the corner of her desk she rolled her office chair around to the front of it and sat down next to him.
"What's troubling you, Dieter?"
"A girl showed up on my doorstep last night."
"Oh?" Patience had no idea where this was going.
"She claimed to be my daughter."
She definitely hadn't expected that. Maybe she should have. This was LA.
"Oh, and is she?"
"I'm pretty damn sure," he replied, playing with one of the rings on his hands, then the bracelets on his wrist. "The timeline adds up."
"Tell me everything."
"It's a long story," he warned her and she huffed.
"You can't interrupt my lunch then not tell me the full story, Dieter."
"Okay," he said, lifting his head off the arm of the couch for a moment to meet her eyes again. "Sorry."
"Nope, this is exactly the kind of thing we should be discussing as soon as possible," Patience told him. "Life altering things."
"Don't remind me."
Patience shook her head. Had he forgotten he had come to her?
"Tell me," she repeated, pulling a blank piece of paper out of his file. "Start from the beginning."
"That would be over a decade ago," he said, "I'm a little fuzzy on it. For many reasons."
"Then start with the girl showing up at your door." Patience was starting to feel, well, impatient, but ever a true professional she masked it behind a gentle tone.
Dieter scratched nervously at his patchy beard and nodded. "Okay. Okay."
x
10:30PM - the night before
"Mr. Bravo," called a loud, booming voice.
Dieter startled awake, finding himself lying haphazardly in his dark brown leather recliner that he had purchased for his mansion's living room a year ago, the movie he'd fallen asleep on rolling its credits.
He groaned as he carefully stretched and positioned himself back properly in the seat, rubbing at the kink in his neck he hadn't had before he'd slumped down into it.
His personal bodyguard and property security manager rolled into one, James Robinson, was looming over him, annoyingly. It was too late on a Sunday night for him to be disturbing him. Especially after the long three months of filming he'd just wrapped the day before.
"What is it?" he nearly snapped.
James frowned. "Sorry to bother you, but a little girl is at the front door asking for you."
"You let a kid in?" Dieter sighed, disappointed. "How many times have we gone over this, Jamie? I don't want any fans on the property. Even if they're kids."
"She's not a fan, Mr. Bravo," James explained. "She's claiming to be your daughter."
He snorted loudly at that. "I don't have any kids, Jamie."
"Not that you know of, sir."
"Call me Dieter."
James nodded.
It bugged Dieter that he couldn't exactly brush off what his bodyguard had pointed out. While he'd always made an effort to use protection when with a partner, especially when having a one night stand, and especially with a woman, his previous lack of sobriety meant he couldn't always remember if he had followed through every time.
Fuck.
"I'll talk to her," Dieter decided, scrubbing his face as he got to his feet. This can't be happening.
As much as he definitely did NOT want to be a father, as much as a part of him wanted to have James bring her back to wherever she came from without laying eyes on her, he didn't want to be a jerk. If she was really his, he should take some responsibility or something, right?
James led the way to his front door, then left him alone with the girl who was standing on the rug in his entryway.
She wasn't really little like James had made her sound, but she was young, maybe eleven, twelve, thirteen at most? Long, dark hair the same shade as his was swooped up into a ponytail behind her head, the strands that had managed to escape the tie curled wildly around her face, damp, reminding him that it had been raining earlier.
Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, taking him in, studying him, and he noted how they were shaped like his own. So was her chin, and Dieter found himself catching his breath. Her other features, her delicate nose and soft cheeks, her unattached ear lobes and thin lips, were distinctly someone else's, but their similarities were enough that he just...knew.
He wondered if father's intuition was a thing. If that's what this was.
"You're Dieter?" she questioned, glancing around.
"I am," he confirmed, stumbling, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. "What's your name?"
"Alyssa Collins," she stated plainly, "Ally. Ally's what everyone calls me all the time. I'm your daughter."
"So I've been told," Dieter said, eyebrows shooting up. "How did you find that out before me?"
"I convinced Mom to finally spill," she explained, still looking around. "Wow, this place is HUGE. What do you even do with all this space?"
Dieter frowned. "Where's your mother now?"
"At home, asleep probably," Ally answered, approaching the framed artwork covering the walls, some copies and some original. She came to a stop in front of a copy of Old Man's Death by László Mednyánszky. Dieter had several dark paintings like that hanging in his home. He was an edgy artist.
After examining the painting of the reaper hovering over the dying man it depicted, Ally's eyes darted towards him for a moment. "Grim," she stated flatly.
"You came here alone?"
"Took a taxi and everything," she boasted. "I'm self efficient like that."
"Your mother just let you take a taxi by yourself?" Dieter started to wonder if she had any responsible adults in her life at all.
"She doesn't know," Ally admitted. "I slipped out my window as soon as she went to bed."
"You...ran away from home!" he exclaimed, bug-eyed. Things were getting worst and worst. He didn't just have a kid, he had a delinquent.
"Yeah," she confirmed. "She wasn't going to let me see you otherwise."
That stung a little, knowing someone he had slept with had felt the need to hide their kid from him. He had a few good guesses as to why, but it still hurt, even though the selfish part of him was also secretly glad. Who knows how his career would have turned out if he'd needed to balance his work life with helping raise a kid? He probably would've never gotten his Emmy.
"So can I stay here a while?" Ally inquired. "I'd like to talk."
Dieter gaped at her. "Are you kidding me? You're not staying here! You have to go home, right now. Whoever your mother is, she's going to kill me."
"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, "I'm the one who's going to get into trouble. Don't make me leave right away." She pouted at him and he huffed.
"We're going, now," he told her firmly. "I'll drive you."
"You can't tell me what to do," she argued.
"Am I your father or not?" Never in Dieter's imagination could he have foreseen himself using that card.
Ally folded her arms over her chest and huffed just like he had moments before. "Fine. You going to at least put on a shirt?"
Dieter glanced down, realizing the brown robe he was wearing was hanging open, and he was only in his boxer shorts underneath. He tied up the robe quickly and shook his index finger at her. "Stay here."
He glanced at Ally once more to make sure she wouldn't make a run for it, and she rolled her eyes before he rushed away to slip on a pair of light blue jeans and an army green t-shirt.
When he returned he gestured for her to follow him to his personal vehicle, a black Cadillac Escalade he's just bought off the truck the month before.
Her jaw dropped when she saw it. "You have an Escalade?"
Dieter did a double take of her. "You know cars?" This kid was full of surprises.
"Only ones owned by Carrie Heywood," she said in an excited voice, a bounce in her step as she approached the SUV.
Carrie Heywood was an actress who was known for playing a lot of characters in family friendly movies, live action and animated. Dieter had once worked with her on the only animated movie he'd ever voice acted in. It had been about a town cursed by an evil witch to live the same day over and over. She'd been the voice actress of the heroine, and he'd been the sidekick she eventually fell in love with. He wondered if Ally had seen that movie and if she'd made the connection between him and Sam.
"Did you get it because you saw Carrie's while you were voicing Sam for Cursed?"
That answered that question. "No," he replied. "I just like this kind of vehicle. Many millionaires have one. Now get in."
"Fine with me," she said gleefully, pulling open the passenger door. She hopped in and Dieter shook his head. Who would imagine a kid liking an SUV?
"Seat belt," he ordered as he settled into the driver's seat and noticed she hadn't put hers on.
"You don't have yours on," she pointed out.
"I'm an adult," Dieter told her. "When you're an adult you can make stupid decisions too."
He didn't tell her it was because he was worried about how her mother would react if she saw he hadn't enforced the law on the kid.
Ally rolled her eyes but gave in, clicking the belt in securely. "Happy now?"
"What's your address?" he asked, ignoring her annoyed gaze. He began driving up to his gate.
"I'm not allowed to tell strangers," she declared.
Dieter narrowed his eyes at her. "Listen, kid, if you want me to talk to you at all the rest of the ride, and if you don't want me to drop you off at the nearest police station instead, you will tell me your address."
Another huff and she was rattling off the address. He stopped the SUV at his property's gate and plugged it into the vehicle's GPS system.
"So what's your mother's name anyway?" he inquired as he began driving towards their destination.
"Hazel."
Hazel. Hazel Collins. The name sounded familiar.
"What does she look like?"
"Red hair, green eyes, everyone says I look a lot like her," Ally told him. "Except for me having your hair and eye color, of course, and a few other features, apparently."
That wasn't a lot of details for Dieter to go off of, but it was enough. Despite him living in Hollywood, he could only remember one instance when he'd spent a night with a woman who had scarlet hair.
Combining her name and description together jogged his memory.
x
July 15, 2011
Another weekend, another club. Dieter usually had someone to meet up with, for business or for pleasure, but that night he was flying solo.
He didn't mind. It gave him a chance to relax after a week crammed with filming and interviews. He'd been very busy lately and that was good. His acting career had been filled with guest star roles for far too long. He might be able to actually afford an apartment with more than one room after the movie he was currently working on.
Still, some time alone to decompress with some shots was needed. Maybe he'd smoke a couple joints later in the night as well.
He had his third shot in hand when a gorgeous twenty-something woman with cascading shoulder length red hair perched on a stool several feet away from his at the bar he was seated at, wearing a shimmering dark green blouse and dark blue jeans, stealing his attention away from his glass.
She wasn't his usual type, blond or Latin, but a pretty person was a pretty person, and he had a difficult time keeping from staring at her.
Change of plans.
He quietly and subtitly observed her for a time before making his move. She looked frustrated, disappointed in whatever was on her mind. She ordered a shot of whiskey and threw it back like a pro. A girl after his own heart.
He glanced at her delicate fingers, but there were no rings that would suggest she was taken. She was far from free of jewelry though. Cheap rings wrapped nearly all her fingers, her ears were both pierced in three places and she had a small nose piercing.
Dieter wondered if she was pierced anywhere else.
Not every guy would be into it, but he was a fan of piercings. He always sported a stud in his left ear when not filming. He'd have had more if not for his career relying so much on him being able to fit a part physically.
That wasn't all they shared in common, Dieter observed, having spotted a few lines of ink at the base of her neck, a tattoo mostly hidden by her shirt. He also had tattoos. Ones that held meaning, not ones drawn for the sake of looking cool.
The woman ordered another shot and it was then he decided to speak up.
"Hey."
She craned her neck, her expression surprised, like she hadn't expected anyone to pay attention to her.
"Did you hear about the man who stole a calendar?" he asked her. "He got twelve months."
She rolled her eyes at him but the edges of her lips twitched upward, giving her away.
"That is a really dumb joke," she stated, downing her second shot.
"You still smiled," he pointed out, expression bright. "I'd call that success."
"Do you always use dad jokes to pick up women?" she inquired, turning to face him.
"Not always," he replied, "Only when they look like they could use some cheering up."
"Well, thanks for the effort, but maybe I want to mope a little while," she said.
He hummed. "I don't mean to pry, but I want to."
"My boyfriend cheated on me, so I broke up with him," she explained.
"His loss. He should be the one in a bar drinking away his sorrows."
"I hope he is," she said, twisting one of her rings without looking down at it. "Why are you here alone?"
"Felt like it. I do a lot for that reason."
She smiled at him. "What's the point if you don't enjoy it?"
He pointed his right thumb back at himself. "My mantra."
"I wish I was like that," she admitted, "These piercings may suggest carefree, but I struggle with not worrying over every little issue in my life. And it's hard to be that way living on a waitress' salary."
"I get that," Dieter told her. "Until last month I barely had enough money to cover my rent."
"Let me guess," she said, pausing to ponder as her eyes swept over him. "Struggling artist?"
He shook his head, but was impressed by how close her guess was. Especially since he was dressed in his club clothes, not his lazy weekend ones he tended to wear anytime he was at home. "No, close, struggling actor."
"Same thing," she argued. "Acting is a form of art."
"True."
"What do you do as a hobby?" she quizzed.
He smirked at her. "I paint sometimes."
"I knew it!" she exclaimed, delighted by his answer.
"I look like the type?"
"Yes."
"Do you do anything artsy?" he asked her.
It was her turn to shake her head. "I'm more of an art consumer. I watch a lot of movies."
"Fair enough." He tilted his head towards the bartender. "Next one's on me?"
"Only if you tell me your name," she told him.
"Dieter. Dieter Bravo. What's yours?"
"Hazel Collins," she answered, wrinkling her nose. "Yours is better. Less boring. Professional name?"
"No, real name," he promised. "As hard as that is to believe. And your name is so not boring."
She huffed. "Yeah, right."
"Okay, maybe it is," he said honestly. "But I have a feeling the person behind the name is far from it."
They locked eyes, her sage green ones staring into his soul. Which isn't hard to do when it's right behind someone's eyes. Dieter wasn't a stoic person, he knew. He wasn't famous in Hollywood, but he was already known in the community for being quirky, dramatic, and expressive.
She must have liked what she saw. She'd stood up and moved over to the stool next to his.
"Alright, Dieter," she said decidedly, smiling broadly at him. "Buy me that drink. Let's see where the night takes us."
The rest of his memory of that night was blurred, due to the number of shots they'd taken together over the course of it, but Dieter could still recall enough.
He remembered crashing through the door to his cheap apartment with her, the same door that he'd crushed her against moments later, molding himself to her as best as he could with the fabric between them.
It wasn't long before their clothes were discarded and he barely registered that she had a belly button ring before he was angling himself just right so he could thrust up into her. She cried out at the sudden invasion and desperately kissed him as he repeated the motion over and over again, not stopping until they'd both lost themselves to bliss.
That was only the beginning of their night together. After that they'd touched each other on the couch, before moving to the kitchen table where he buried his face between her legs, and after a short nap in his bed, they'd found themselves in his bathroom, her seated butt naked on the sink countertop as he rolled his hips against hers and she scrambled for purchase, digging her nails into his expansive shoulders.
Dieter had passed out in bed next to her afterwards, feeling as sweaty and exhausted as she looked, only waking up the next afternoon, alone in his messy apartment once more.
She had left a note though.
Thanks for the memories.
He'd kept it on his person for a while. It had always managed to put a smile on his face, no matter his mood.
x
April 7, 2024
"How much did your mom tell you?" Dieter inquired as he tried to shake the memory out of his head.
Now was not the time to picture the details of Hazel's o-face. What he could remember of it anyway.
"Not a lot," Ally answered. "Just that you met at a bar, but I do know how babies are made, so please, spare me."
Dieter choked on his own spit momentarily before clearing his throat and trying to compose himself again. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to give specifics."
"Good," she said, wrinkling her nose, and the action was so akin to her mother's Dieter couldn't help but stare. Luckily they were at a stop light.
When the light turned green he focused back on the road. "So why now? Why see me today?"
"I turned twelve two days ago," she told him. "So yesterday mom threw me a birthday party with my friends. And it was fun, but all I could think about was that I am almost a teenager and my mom still refuses to tell me anything about my birth father. To let me decide what I want to do with that information. All she would tell me is he, you weren't dead. And more of that 'I'll tell you when you're older crap'. So I bugged her until she caved in. I'm not proud of it, but if it works, it works."
"How'd you get my address?"
"You wouldn't believe what you can Google nowadays."
"You should have had your mother drive you," Dieter said.
"She wouldn't have."
"She's probably worried sick about you."
"That's not outside her norm," Ally informed him. "She's stuffy, overprotective."
"LA's not safe at night for a kid alone," Dieter lectured her. "You should know that."
She huffed. "Yeah. Yeah. I know. I took a big risk. I won't do it again. But I'm not going to apologize for it."
"You should." Dieter couldn't believe how much he sounded like a dad already.
Ally ignored him again and he sighed heavily. Now he understood how his father had felt during his rebellious years. "We've got ten minutes before we get to your house. Do you have any questions for me before you get grounded for life and I fully endorse it?"
"Do you still like acting?" she asked.
He frowned. "Of course I do. Why?"
"We had a career day at school last week and my best friend said she'd like to be one."
"Huh," he paused, "And what do you want to be?"
"An artist," Ally replied, pulling a small notebook out of the back pocket of her jeans. She flipped the cover over to reveal a handmade drawing of a park landscape, the details on the trees and benches astonishing for someone her age. "See?"
"I see," Dieter said, impressed. "It's beautiful."
She beamed at him, puffing out her chest, and her pride over his comment made him smile too.
Hers faded after a few beats. "If you'd known about me, would you have been there? Will you be now?"
Her words were a vice grip on his heart. "I don't know," he said honestly, but treaded carefully. "I was different back then, all about my career and making a name for myself. Now though, I think I would like to be."
She was definitely not completely satisfied with that answer but Dieter didn't want to say it depended on how her mother felt about him getting involved. She was frustrated enough with her, it seemed.
Before she could press him for a longer explanation he was parking his SUV in the driveway of an old gray house with a very small strip of lawn in front.
A familiar woman, free of all piercings except for a pair of hanging silver earrings, almost immediately charged out the front door, relief forming on her face when she noted the girl in his passenger seat, an expression that was quickly replaced by anger.
She ripped the door on Ally's side open and gritted her teeth. "You are in so much trouble, young lady! What were you thinking? Wait, nevermind, we'll talk later. Go to your room, now."
"But mom...!" Ally protested.
Hazel glared at her and their daughter released a pained sigh, sliding out of her seat and glancing at Dieter one last time before dragging her feet towards and into the house.
Once she was sure Ally was safe indoors, Hazel turned back to him. "So you know now." She sounded defeated.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dieter quizzed.
"When I first found out I was pregnant," Hazel began, "I fully intended to. I returned to your apartment, but you had moved out to a bigger one by then. I did research, trying to find out where you were currently living and what social media platforms you were on, but it was difficult. You weren't on social media at all because you didn't trust their websites back then and nobody knew where you lived except a small circle of trusted people. I was going to try to contact them, but then I saw it. The articles on you. That you were big on work and parties, that you were taking some hardcore drugs, and I knew I didn't want that in my life or hers. I never was on drugs like that at any point in my life and I stopped using marijuana as soon as I had a positive -."
"I get why you didn't then," Dieter interrupted, sticking a hand out in a 'hold' gesture. "But I've changed since. People change."
"Didn't you overdose just two years ago?" she said pointedly, folding her arms over her chest.
"That was while I was living in an awful work environment, and I've been clean ever since," he declared. "Well, mostly. I sneak an edible now and then."
She didn't look impressed. "You're an actor Dieter, famous now, that kind of lifestyle... It's hard enough to stay clean as a normal person living in a normal society. The culture in Hollywood makes it near impossible for most."
"Near," Dieter said, "It's not hopeless. And I have even more motive now."
"Since when did you want to be a father?" Hazel inquired. "You've said in many interviews you had no interest in it. That your work was your purpose."
"That was before I knew I had a kid," he said. "It's different, knowing. I can't just ignore it. I feel...responsible for her."
"You don't need to," she told him. "We've been doing well enough by ourselves. My mother did a lot to help me out before she passed when Ally was five."
"Well, I want to," he stated. "I don't want Ally to feel like I don't care. If you followed my interviews you know my mother left when I was seven and my Dad raised me. I loved my father, he did his best, and I'll always be grateful for that, but knowing my mother chose not to be a part of my life hurt. Ally doesn't deserve the same."
Hazel chewed her bottom lip. It was clear she hadn't thought that part through.
"I'm not asking for custody," Dieter promised her. "Just a chance to prove I can be responsible. A chance to get to know her."
"Okay," she finally caved. "We can do a trial run. But you have to swear you will not be a bad influence on her. You can't let her watch rated R shit and you have to make sure she's following the rules; you can't be her friend all the time. Most of all, you need to make sure you stay clean and she doesn't stumble onto anything illegal or inappropriate in your home or SUV. Swear it."
"I swear," he said seriously, meeting her eyes.
She gave him a curt nod. "Good. Give me your phone number. I'm going to call my lawyer in the morning and get some official documents set up or something. Get everything in writing, if that's okay?"
"I'll do whatever it takes."
Hazel smiled. "Good."
x
April 8, 2024 - present
"Huh."
Dieter sat up on the couch in Patience's office. "Huh. That's all you have to say?"
"No, I'll have more," Patience promised. "Once you ask me your question. That's why you're here, right?"
He chewed his lip. "Should I be doing this? I spent all of last night tossing and turning in bed wondering if I would be doing the right thing. Hazel's right to be concerned. I've been a mess for a long time. I could easily fall back into it."
"You don't have to do anything, Dieter, if you're not sure," Patience told him honestly.
"Sooooo...are you saying I shouldn't try to get to know her?"
Patience shook her head furiously. "That is not what I am saying. If you want to be there for her, if you feel you need to take some responsibility for her, I highly encourage it. Family's an important part of our lives, whether we like it or not, and she clearly wants a father figure. What I was saying is if you make it a point to be a part of her life, make sure you're all in. If you step away after, you will hurt her worst than removing yourself from the equation now."
He nodded at her. "Of course. I wouldn't do that. I'm not who I was twelve years ago, or even two."
"Good. Prove it."
xxx
Tagged: @harriedandharassed @trulybetty (if you wish not to be tagged let me know)
xxx
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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If you could rewrite Steph's story in TEC Rebirth to be less Tim centric or paint her in a more....understandable light, how would you do it?
I still to this day like seven years later maintain that there should have been one arc before Tim went kapoot. It wouldn't need to be high stakes or anything, but a bit more of an establishing: here is where our characters are at, here is what they want, here is what they need, etc etc. Tim got his sure, but Cass had to wait a while and Steph never got her established status quo moment, only the aftermath of the rug being ripped out from under her. I would have liked more follow on from what had been established about her thus far (at the time) in Batman Eternal, Batman and Robin Eternal, and Catwoman.
It was never fully established why Steph was continuing vigilantism after the death of her father, nor do we see her and Tim's relationship develop. These are two big factors which need to be properly established to justify why Steph does the things she does later on in the arc. It's not the same motivations she had in the 90s. She's immediately accepted by Bruce (once he stops being amnesia'd) and does not have to fight for her place at the table. She therefore has no reason to have a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. She was merrily running around being Spoiler before there was any indication of her being interested in Tim, so that reasoning from Dixon's run is also out the window.
Why is Steph Spoiler? What does she feel she can do that no-one else in the batfam covers? What sphere does she occupy? We get possible answers, she is increasingly being written as much softer than she used to be, is ten times more likely to offer an open palm first before a closed fist, and this is reflected in the Rebirth run too. So, I would make that more explicit early in the run, so we know where her thinking lines up with Tim, where it lines up with Bruce, where it lines up with Cass and Kate, and therefore when it goes wrong, we have more of an explicit degrading or muddling of her ideals. Tim's death would literally be a reversal of dead girlfriend motivates hero's journey cycle trope.
As a real basic and cheeky plug... read my 'fill in the gaps' fanfic where I twisted myself in knots trying to iron out the timeline in the run up to Rebirth to justify her presence and reactions to Tec's events. It's good. Honest. :D
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Soulmates
If you're reading this, I'm sure you know as well as I do that Spain and Romano are perfect for each other. In fact, their fates are connected by a red thread. What I'm trying to say, is that this is a post about soulmate AUs. All these stories have their own take on the rules of a soulmate AU, which just makes them that much better.
To note: anything written in green contains content warnings, but not smut. None of these contains smut, actually. Only finished fics are recommended here. Always check the tags and description on the individual fic, don't read anything just to criticise the author, and I hope you have a good reading!
Blank Wrist and Mutism:
Light by annapotterkiku: Lovino was sure he didn't have a soulmate, because he did not have any marks identifying the first thing his soulmate would say to him. But perhaps there's another reason... Content for minor mention of self harm.
No Words by catholicorprotestant: In a utopian society, where people can find their soulmate, Lovino's wrist is blank where the first thing his soulmate would say should've appeared.
I Won't Give Up by kucchi: Lovino was sick of life, until a stranger came barging in. But this stranger isn't speaking, and then, he disappears. Content warning for child abuse and neglect in chapter three.
Spamano oneshot by Cazypup: Yes, another! This one is a bit less angsty than the others.
Soul Mate's First Words-Unspoken by myfivemeters: Lovino was sick of his perfect brother being better than him, and moved to Spain. One day, he meets a mute man. Chapter 3 can be disregarded, as it's just an A/N.
Slowly But Surely In Love by amberauto: It was difficult to decide whether this one should go here, or into the next section, but I chose to put it here. Lovino doesn't want a soulmate and doesn't think he has one either. Antonio is mute. Longer than most soulmate fanfics, and content warning for major character death.
Bad End:
Colours by LimitlessReach (orphan_account): Sometimes, the red string of fate between you and another person snaps. Content warning for character death.
Until Time Starts Again by Ashesofthesoul: Everyone has a countdown timer for when they're destined to meet their soulmate. Lovino's timer breaks. Content warning for character death.
Tick by genuinely maverick: Lovino has decided he doesn't want to be with the person he meets when his countdown timer hits zero. This one says unfinished, but I think it works as a oneshot.
No One Knows Soulmates Are Real:
Testing-Testing I'm Just Suggesting You and I Might Not Be the Best Thing by batoravu (orphan_account): An AI is tasked with finding the soulmate of people. Lovino thinks the AI has to be mistaken.
Tomatoes, Always Tomatoes by Someone_you_do_not_know: What if your food cravings was the only thing telling you who your soulmate was? How do you even find someone based on that? There's a seven year age gap, but they meet each other when they're both in their 20s. This one has sequels that are also Spamano-centric.
They Know Each Other Beforehand:
Spamano Hearts by Kousagi7Yami and Vodka112: This fanfic is in two parts, which is why there are two links. One is Lovino's side, and the other is Antonio's side. In this universe, a person's heart is visible, and it breaks in two once it's matured. You give one half to the one you love, and they will give you their other half in return.
My Soulmate by sctwilightvampwolfgal: Antonio reflects on how his love for Lovina has changed from platonic to romantic. Open ended.
La Cinta Roja by Mediterranean Tomatoes: Antonio has had many partners taken from him as they found the one the red string of fate bound them to, and doesn't really want to find out. Lovino is the same. Until the day their ribbons finally show themselves.
Despite Losing Hope:
The Guilty Heart by Pastaaddict: Lovino blames himself for his brother's blindness, and believes he has taken away his brother's soulmate, since Feliciano will never find the one who makes him able to see in colour, since he can't see at all. Content warning for attempted suicide.
Cross My Heart by lorenzodelcielo: The name of your soulmates appear over your heart once you know – they can be platonic or romantic, and you can have up to four, although some get less, and some get none. Antonio has given up on finding anyone until he went to a certain restaurant.
Twenty-Nine by BlueFlame013: Lovino's countdown timer is broken, and is stuck at 29 years. But perhaps he'll find the one anyway.
Soul Mates by Chaos Ride: Romano yearns to find his soulmate, especially since he's already sixteen, and most other people finds their soulmate when they're younger. His brother convinces him to go to the movie theatre with him – where Antonio, 19, works. Minor content warning for one mention of suicide and some age gaps.
Love by Frostwhisker: Lovino has waited for three long years, and then, he ends up meeting his soulmate early. Now he's not even sure he wants to throw himself into a relationship.
Reincarnation:
I will not be your sometimes by dogmouth: No matter what happens or what life they're born into, Spain and Romano will always find each other.
The One Lifetime We Weren't by sctwilightvampwolfgal: So many lifetimes with a happily ever after, and one without, because Antonio could never date his son, nor Lovino his father. Content warning for a minor student/teacher relationship and mentions of incest – but the latter doesn't happen.
Ten Million Fireflies by Snowdream56: The half nation Romano has died, but two decades later, Antonio meets the human, Lovino. Content warning for character death.
till death do us part by Goth-leaf1: Lovino and Antonio are cursed. In every life, Lovino will have his lover taken from him upon their meeting. Content warning for character death.
#aph romano#aph spain#fanfiction#fanfiction rec list#fanfiction recommendation#spamano#aph south italy#hws romano#hws south italy#hws spain#soulmates#reincarnation
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Seven Several Sentences Sunday
Fanonwriter2023 on AO3
Where CANON and FANON collide!
FANON speculation for season 7
Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”
Chapter 10 is already available on AO3 and Chapter 11 will be posted soon.
I’m excited to finish writing Chapter 11 because at the end of Chapter 10, both Buck and Eddie had therapy assignments to complete but instead of asking each other for help to fill in the gaps of their memories, they asked other people who were there during the shooting and the lightning strike. Eddie asked Captain Mehta but he told him that he should ask Buck for details about the shooting. Buck asked Chimney but he told him that he should talk to Eddie to get details about how he got down from the aerial and to learn what happened after they made it to the hospital.
At 10:56PM, Eddie asked Buck to join him for his session that's scheduled for Friday, September 1st and Buck asked Eddie to join him for his session which he rescheduled for the same day so they wouldn't have to do separate visits. After they ended their phone call, they were both worried they wouldn't be able to go to therapy and explain what happened to the other one without making a love confession👀.
___________
Here are two snippets from Chapter 11: one for Buck and one for Eddie.
___________
Buck
At 1:37AM, Buck’s eyes open because he’s hyperventilating and he’s grabbing at his chest in an effort to stop the pain that’s surrounding his heart. His eyes won’t focus, blood is rushing past his ears and there’s an unmistakable metallic taste all over his tongue. In the back of his mind, he can hear himself screaming, “Come on Eddie! Hand out! I’m gonna come. I got you! Get your hand out!”
He’s having a nightmare and he understands that’s what it is when he looks at the ceiling and realizes he’s in his loft because it doesn’t look anything like the under carriage of a firetruck.
Why is Buck having a nightmare about the shooting?
_____
Eddie
At 1:37AM, Eddie’s eyes automatically open when he tries to stop the scream that’s attempting to escape his lips along with the panic that’s rising in his chest. He’s in a cold sweat, his t-shirt is drenched and he’s having a difficult time breathing. His hands are formed into fists and they’re sore because it feels like he’s been trying to lift something heavy and his mind keeps echoing, “Buck! Can you hear me? Buck!”
He realizes he’s having a nightmare when he recognizes the blanket that’s covering him. It helps him realize it's not his turnout coat and he’s not on top of the aerial trying to pull Buck up after the lightning strike.
Why is Eddie having a nightmare about the lightning strike?
___________
Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.
__________
Chapter Summaries
Chapter 1 -Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.
Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.
Chapter 3 -After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.
Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.
Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.
Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.
Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are part of the foundation when a couple builds a long-lasting love relationship.
Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.
Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.
Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.
Chapter 11 - Will be posted soon.
__________
I’m enjoying writing this fic because it’s giving me the chance to unravel the mess that was the 6x18 ending for Buck, Eddie and Chris. Also, it’s taking them places the show refuses to go including Buck finally having a mental breakdown and Eddie being there for him the same way he was there for Eddie in season 5.
Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading
Read chapters 1 - 10 are already available on AO3.
No pressure tagging: @spotsandsocks and @shortsighted-owl. (My apologies if you've already posted.)
#buddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#christopher diaz#the buckley diaz family#buckley diaz family#911 fanfic#911 fox#911 on fox#911onfox#911 on abc#911 abc#Fanonwriter2023 on AO3#buddie fanfic#Seven Sentence Sunday#Buddie fanfic#Buddie WIP#Hiatus Reading#911 season 7 speculation
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You’ve talked about the musical (correct and based opinion) but what about the tv show?
thank you!
if i had to rank the adaptations it would be:
the complete novel of the movie
the theatrical version of the movie
the musical/play
the tv show
the tv show is by far the worst version of the outsiders for several reasons chief among them being that it came out too late in the wrong decade. the movie had come out seven years before, had been a huge success — no matter how you feel about the theatrical version, please remember that it was a hit. it launched careers. the movie was made for $10m and made $33m — and made audience very happy. to have a tv show come out in 1990 was an act of desperation to get money out of an audience that had generally been fulfilled.
and it shows. the first episode or two, they at least have some care towards the time period and at least are trying to do something with the material. except, it's clearly bad from the getgo. the writing is strongest in that episode, yet it's still unbelievably lacking. there's a pretty good attempt to talk about the police brutality, the system that presses down on the disadvantage and even a call back to things that didn't make the movie like soda putting food coloring in mashed potatoes.
but there are really huge gaps in characterization here: darry is way too bigger and angry; soda clearly isn't nearly as empathetic as he was; it's extremely clear that scout was shoved in there to replace johnny in a heavy handed way; cherry is written terribly even with her minimally interesting traits scrubbed off and tim shepard essentially functions in that series as a replacement, knock off dallas. it's telegraphed from the moment that tim shepard shows up onscreen.
and the show just gets worse from there. the show is terribly written, the cast ranges from "actually a really great two bit" to "do any of you know what a human emotion is?" all the way, and by the time you reach episode three, it doesn't even bother pretending to be a period piece anymore. the little trappings that they have fall away; ponyboy's hair looks very 90s, there seems to be no passage of time that matters, the sets look cheaper.
it's like very, very bad fanfic in a very entirely different way than the musical is. the musical is a bad fanfic produced in early 2012 tumblr that somehow survived. the television show is just a really bad fanfic that was produced and made in a way that is generally thoughtless, careless, and cheaplesly trying to cash in on a much, much better piece of art. i think some people pick through the garbage to figure out what is good and what's not — there's achingly little. i think the only character that was remotely similar was two bit, as was his corresponding episode. beyond that, the show is just terrible; ponyboy is sexually assaulted by an older woman no less than twice and this is set up by darry and buck — soda literally has one episode where he didn't learn his lesson and knocked up another girl and then another episode where he attempts to pull off a hate crime — cherry forces ponyboy to do her fucking homework — randy is quoting mlk in scenes.
it's just horrible. i can see why se hinton refuses to approve another live action adaptation and i think she probably feels used that they put her name on it but did nothing with her thoughts or ideas.
it could've been... i'm not going to say good. it was still too late to make that. but it didn't have to be so bad that the only way you can see it now is on crusty youtube videos. so.
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