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nexysworld · 4 months

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Summary: Leon is sent on a mission to carry out a hit for the government. He hated these missions the most, but worst of all you weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to see him. Pairing: ID!Assassin Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, canon typical gore, graphic depictions of murder, comfort sex, mild dubcon, unprotected sex, fem!receiving oral sex, soft sex, angsty sex, hurt/comfort/hurt, dark content, descriptions of wound dressing. WC: 5.2k

A/N: This was a birthday fic for the wonderful @elfven-blog. <3 Title from the lyrics to the song Sextape by Deftones. Edit: I also have a bot based on this fic now: Character AI | Spicychat

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Cool air bristled the hairs on the back of his neck, limbs tingling with the typical anticipation of what came next. Hits weren’t his favorite type of mission, not by a longshot, he wanted to save people, not kill them. But with experience came a certain professional numbness and a way to compartmentalize. It didn’t help that the locale for this affair was in the dead center of a suburban upper class neighborhood. Every home had that same limestone brick or white overlapping paneling. Every door the same mahogany brown, tacky lawn gnomes, overly green grass, white picket fences – the works. The possibility of witnesses was high, the escape routes limited.

Regardless, Leon was a professional, and he would make it work. He always did.

Tilting his wrist, he looked down at the gold rolex, it was a little past 2:30am. He listened closely, to ensure there was no movement inside. The double windowed back doors were his point of entry. The brass knobs were old, the locks inside not quite as intricate as modern ones, all it took was a good smack against the swiss army knife he’d jammed into it for the lock to click open. The door opened quietly, he made sure to not close it completely behind him to ensure he could make his escape.

The house had an eerie quiet over it, almost like the universe knew what was about to happen. Leon cracked his neck and let out a breath, careful to not touch anything as he moved throughout the lower floor, clearing each room. The kitchen was pristine, nothing out of place on the island or counter. There was no homely smell of food, only the lingering scent of some harsh cleaner. Not a sign that anyone had even been down there within the past several hours – a good thing, he noted. Through the archway came the living room, he had been hopeful someone had opted to sleep on the couch, separate targets were easier targets. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t so lucky.

The plush gray sectional was untouched, not so much as a divet into the cushion. The TV remote lay on the dark oak coffee table. Unlike the kitchen, this room felt more homely. The faint smell of some fruity air freshener was all over, the cherry walls were lined with gold plated frames of the family.

His target was some small town politician, Jackson Moore, normally somebody not noteworthy to the government in the slightest, but he made the unfortunate mistake of shaking hands with terrorists, facilitating the sale of some new viral invention through the local pharmacies. The idea of another Raccoon City incident made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure who he held more anger for, the people like this person who’d bring it about, or the government that he knew turned a blind eye until now – the same government who wouldn’t make the effort to save the people who uphold it.

He shook his head, and pushed his bangs back refocusing for a moment. He scanned over the pictures. Most normal family outings, some graduation photos and holiday ones in there. Hunnigan had told him beforehand that all of the kids were off to college, none due back for several more weeks. The only targets in the house were Mr. and Mrs. Moore.

There was only one more room on the bottom floor, where he was sure his victims were, the master bedroom. Leon made his way over, silently padding down the short hall staring at the door. It was cracked, the sound of light snoring and the smell of mint wafting from the room. He peeked inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room, a string of moonlight the only thing illuminating the sleeping lumps on the bed.

He tested the door, it squealed slightly as it opened making him freeze. One of the sleeping forms moved slightly rolling over. He waited, still as a statue until he was sure that both still remained asleep before sliding himself through the narrow opening he’d made.

Looming over the sleeping forms, he pulled his gun out from it’s holster attached to his waist. Even with the silencer, he knew he needed to be quick. One shot would wake the other, and then it was a matter of speed. He cocked the pistol, taking a few more steps towards the unaware persons before him. The gun felt heavy in his hand, but he lifted it anyway, deciding to start with the official target first.

Will the trigger pulled back, the room lit up for a split second with the bang of the gun. Time slowed as he watched the man’s body jolt slightly, blood splattering onto the pillow, the walls. The smell of gunpowder and iron hit his nose. The man’s fingers twitched slightly before his movement stopped. Just like he had expected, his wife was awake instantly, though no noise came from her.

Wide eyed, she stared at Leon, then down at her husband next to her. Her mouth opened like she was trying to scream, but the noise was caught in her throat, tears welled in the woman’s eyes. Blood had splattered onto her too, some chunks of brain along with it dripped from her curlers onto her lap. Her trembling hands reached over to her husband, “Jacks.” She whispered, reaching over and putting her hand on his deformed face. “Jacks.” She leaned over the man, trying to scoop the bits and pieces of him back together.

Leon wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to wonder if that’s how someone might react to his death some day. But he pushed those feelings aside, she was a target, culpable in everything just as her husband was. He lifted the gun again, pointing it at her.

As she looked at him, eyes wide with fear, her mouth formed the shape of a word. He didn’t need to hear it to know it was a plea. He pulled the trigger again.

Deadshot, like putting down an animal, between the eyes.

Her body crumbled over itself as she slumped forward onto the bed, the back of her head exploded open like a volcano of bone, blood, and brain matter.

Not dwelling on it, he put his finger to the device in his ear. “It’s done, Hunnigan.” “Good work Leon. I’ll make sure that –”

“Hey mom, you still up? I thought I heard something.”

The soft voice pulled Leon from his conversation, there were footsteps out in the hallway and the sound of a lightswitch clicking on. ‘Shit.’ He cursed to himself inwardly. He took a few steps back from the door, whispering to Hunnigan. “You said there were no other targets here.” “There aren't –” “The daughter is home.” “Does she know you’re there?” “No, not yet.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before she spoke again. “Leon.” Hunnigan’s voice was serious, she knew him well enough after all these years to know his thoughts. “Leave no witnesses.” “There won’t be, she doesn’t even know I'm here.” The sound of the fridge opening and closing indicated the girl’s location. “Everyone at the location is a target, Leon. Everyone at the location is a witness.” “Not if she – “ “Leon, this is an order.” “I can wait for her –” “Leon –”

“She doesn’t have to die.” “Dad, is that you?” The sound of his voice, despite him doing his best to stay at a whisper, must've alerted the girl. There was shuffling around on the other end of the line, the next voice he heard made his blood cold. The head of the D.S.O shouting into his ear. “Kennedy, this is an order, kill her! Complete the mission. Do you understand me?”

“Understood.” He said flatly, disconnecting from the call. In a worse stroke of bad luck, the door to the bedroom swung open nearly at the same time.

And there you were.

Glass shattering as it hit the floor, water splattering around as the light from the hallway lit up the room from the opened door. You trembled in place as you processed the sight of things. Leon was frozen where he stood too. You were an adult, but young, more importantly innocent in all of this. Rarely in his forced-on-him career has he had to kill someone completely innocent. Usually it was the partners of criminals, civilians caught in crossfire. But never someone as young as you, never in a situation so targeted.

He hardly registered the shriek you made before you bolted. Acting purely on instinct he took off after you, the delay of his own shock didn’t matter much when he noticed the slimy trail of bloody footprints from where you’d ran through the glass left in the hallway. His own boots crunching it against the ground as he moved. If you had been smart, you’d have turned for the front door, or even the back. Instead, nearly sliding on your own blood you went for the staircase, the one route that would trap you on the upper floor. You let out a yelp of pain, trying your hardest to only use your less injured foot to bounce up the stairs as quickly as you could, the blood matting down into the carpet with each step.

It didn’t take long for Leon to catch up, thumping up each one loudly as his boots made contact. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take his gun out, why he was even letting you attempt this unwinnable escape, he also didn’t know. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable.

He reached out for you just as you made it to the top of the stairs. A simple shove was all it took to send you flying into the decorative hall table that waited at the top. A sickening crack was heard as your head collided with the dark wood, knocking it over as you rolled over with a groan, dazed from it. Managing to prop yourself up on your elbows, Leon could see the trickle of blood that began to run down your eye and cheek, along with the starting to swell shiner from your high-speed table collision.

You scuttled backwards, as best you could, haphazardly tossing the vase that had fallen at him. It missed, and went crashing onto the stairs. Tears mixed with the blood on your face, diluting the color, only leaving the dry specs stuck there. You looked pathetic and terrified in a way that made Leon’s heart twist.

“P-please… don’t.” You pleaded, putting your hand out and up as if that simple gesture would be enough to stop him, distance him from yourself.

He couldn’t do this, at least not like this. He kneeled before you, cupping your uninjured cheek in his hand. “Shhhh. Shhh.”

“P-please… I won’t tell any–” “It’s ok,” he cooed. “It’s not my style to hurt pretty girls, you know that?” He added as he scooped you up from the ground bridal style. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Getting his DNA all over you, getting your blood on him. This wasn’t a clean kill, this wasn’t what the upper brass wanted. For the moment though, he didn’t care. “Where’s your room, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t point or make a sound, your eyes darted from him to the cracked door next to him and then back to him as you shook in his hold. He wedged it open the rest of the way with his foot, before gently placing you down on your bed. It didn’t look right, all the blood staining into the fresh and plush sheets. It was different than your parents downstairs, the whole room screamed you. From the decor on the walls, to the laptop on the nightstand, your college hoodie hanging off the back of the chair at your desk. More reminders that you didn’t deserve this.

Before you could, he swiped the phone off of the side table, stuffing it into his pant pocket. “I know you hurt right now.” He said sweetly, “Give me a minute and we’ll get you all cleaned up, alright?” He gave you a moment to process his words. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He asked himself, as he held your hand, patting your arm gently. He could see the confusion in your eyes as the gears in your head turned to try and make a decision – timidly you nodded. He shot you his signature smile. “Atta girl. Stay here for me, no funny business.” Pointing a finger gun at you before he slipped out into the hallway and into the upstairs bathroom.

The suddenly bright lighting stung his eyes, he saw himself in the mirror, your blood speckled onto his jacket, some dried to his face. He looked rough, a cold sweat broken out onto his face, blue eyes distant looking back at himself. He splashed some cold water onto his face to calm his nerves before digging around to see if there was anything he could use to alleviate some of your pain, even if temporarily. The medicine cabinet was well stocked, though nothing would be enough to really combat the pain of your cracked head and torn up feet. He bit his lip as he grabbed some bandages and the bottle of peroxide.

First aide wasn’t really his specialty, but he knew enough from training. Along with the other supplies, he filled the empty cup on the counter with warm soap water, and took the washcloth with him.

To his surprise you were exactly where he’d left you, splayed out on the bed, looking scared and exhausted. Your head rested against the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a look at your feet first.” Not that he really gave you the option, but you nodded in return. Leon was no stranger to gore, guts, and the rest, but something about them gave him pause. There was so much blood he could hardly see what was skin and what was glass. “It might sting just a little.” He assured, pouring the cold liquid out onto your feet. You hissed and squirmed a bit, but he placed his arm over your ankles to keep them still, watching as the peroxide bubbled, clearing away the redness of the blood. Small pieces of glass fell with it onto the now stained carpet. He opted to speak to you, see if he could get you to calm down some more while he worked, pouring more over the wounds. “You’re in college?” There was something about you that was indescribable to him, familiar to him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah.” Finally you answered with words, voice barely above a whisper. “Shouldn’t you be at school then? I thought the semester was still going.” He as he checked you over for any more obvious glass. When it was clear the peroxide had done it’s job, he took the bandages, gently wrapping them around your feet, gauze padding them.

“D-dropped out.” You squeaked out. “Last minute decision, had to come home.” He tied off the bandage before moving to look at your face. “School’s not for everyone. You’re probably better off without it.” Leon dipped the washcloth into the cup, wringing it out over the carpet, not really caring about the mess. He dabbed it gently against your injured face, helping to remove the remaining mess and to get a better look. Luckily the cut above your eye seemed superficial and the blood had stopped running, it was just a matter of cleaning up the dried mess that was left over. He was careful around the tender purple skin as he cleared as much as he could. “You have a boyfriend you leave back at school?”

“No. Never had one at all actually.” You replied, wincing when he accidentally touched a painful spot. “Never had one?” He asked more for himself than as a real question to you. ‘Hasn’t finished school, never had a boyfriend. This is so fucked up. She can’t be any older than Ashley was…’ He thought to himself, debating whether the court marshalling would be worth letting you go. In the same train of thought, he considered what would happen to you if he did. The government would probably send someone else just like him, someone less soft. He bristled at the thought, sitting up straight on the side of your bed. “That’s a shame, I would’ve thought a cute girl like you would be drowning in guys asking her out.” “Not really” You seemed to relax a bit now, well as relaxed as a person could be in your state. He could still tell from your blown pupils and 1000 mile stare that you were still in shock. Probably a good thing. “My parents are… were, strict.” Your face contorted like you were about to be sick at the memory.

Leon went back to stroking your cheek gently for comfort. “So no boyfriend, ever have your first kiss? First time?” Now that he had a better chance to really look at you, all cleaned up he realized who you reminded him of. Not so much Ashley, she was more strong willed and you didn’t quite look the part either. It wasn’t just the age, no…your voice, mannerisms, the way you looked. It was so very much her. Someone he hadn’t thought about since before even Raccoon City.

“Yeah. Wasn’t very good, some drunk frat boy.” You admitted leaning slightly into his touch. Silence passed between you both, nothing but the ceiling fan whirring above you. An automated air freshener spritzed roses and lilac into the air, barely covering the distinct peroxide and blood smell. Leon was surprised when you finally spoke again. “Why did you do it?”

The look on your face gutted him more than it should have. “I had to.” “Because of his job?” “Something like that, yeah.” “Did he deserve it?” “Yeah.”

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the ceiling to look at him. There was another tense silence before you spoke again. “Are you going to kill me too?”

He felt a chill ran over his body at the question. He leaned forward pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hand up to stroke your hair. “I don’t want to.” It wasn’t a real answer and he knew that, but it was honest. “Why are you being nice to me?” “I told you, I don’t like to hurt cute girls.” “That’s not it.”

How you read him for filth like that he’ll never know. “You remind me of someone.” He leaned back just enough to look at you again, but kept your faces close, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his face. “Who was she?” “My first girlfriend.” He admitted. “What happened to her?” “We broke up.” He said with a short laugh. “Right before my very first day as a cop.” While the conversation was far from appropriate for the situation, he supposed it worked to calm you down more as he felt you relax into the bed. His internal struggle was still playing tug-of-war with his psyche, not sure of how to proceed.

The piece in his ear picked up with some static before Hunnigan’s familiar voice was heard. “Leon are you there?”

He ignored her in favor of continuing to dote over you, hand gently running through your hair, taking in your features more. That trepidation never left your eyes – he understood it. He probably looked psychotic right now, a murderer who was being eerily kind. He was self aware enough to know that much.

“Leon, we haven’t heard a status report. Has the last target been eliminated?” She spoke loud enough this time that while it couldn’t have been above the lowest whisper for you, it was obvious you heard it, eyes widened again, mouth opening slightly. To keep you quiet he leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, a soft kiss you didn’t really return. “Stay quiet for me, ok?” He mumbled against your lips, before sitting up again. He considered replying to Hunnigan, but looking down at you, he took his earpiece out, tossing it to the other side of the room instead.

Hey eyed you again, before adding another kiss. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He reprimanded himself, as he placed another this time to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then jaw. Another on your neck for good measure. ‘I should’ve done it the second she opened the door. I should’ve done my job.’ Despite his mind’s dialogue he continued now at your collar bone. ‘Like ripping off a band aid…. I can’t let her last moments be like that.’ He began to rationalize as he looked up at you. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Wh-what?” “You deserve better than a drunk frat boy. Let me make you feel good.” He repeated. “Why?” “Because I want to.” He could clock the nervousness in your voice immediately. “You can say no.” He added. “I’m not a rapist.”

“A-are you going to kill me if I say no?” “No, of course not.” Again, it wasn’t technically a lie. He wouldn’t be doing it because you declined, but he felt mild disgust with himself for side-stepping the reality of the situation again. ‘It’s better this way though. For her.’

“Ok.” You said, nodding at him to continue. He treated you like glass, gently working your thin tank top up and over your breasts. He continued by kissing each one tenderly before taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until he felt it pebble. When you whimpered at the feeling, he began to suck on it, kneading your other breast with his hand. When he pulled himself off with a pop, he looked down at you, lips parted, eyes closed. Enjoying so much despite him having done so little. Adorable.

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip until he saw those pretty eyes crack open before capturing your lips again, taking the chance to slip his tongue inside once parted. You were sloppy with inexperience, but tasted like dessert, sweet. It made his cock twitch against his pants. He groaned slightly into your mouth, ignoring his own need. Pulling away he let you catch your breath, giving him the chance to move down your body one kiss under your breasts. The next above your naval – stomach contracting slightly. He added one more above the hem of your night pants.

He looked up at you, silently checking with you if it was alright to continue again. When you nodded, he helped you out of the pants. Gently tugging them down from the waist band, lifting each separate leg himself, careful to not hurt your already injured feet. “You alright?” “Y-yeah.”

“Let me know if anything hurts, ok?” “Ok.” “Good girl.”

Leon tugged his leather jacket off discarding it on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of his button up. He claimed a spot between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder for better access to what he was about to do. He gave a reassuring kiss to your thigh, using a free hand to part your folds, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently. He eyed you watching as you melted under his touch, soft whimpers tickling at his eardrums. “Such a pretty girl.” He cooed, replacing his thumb with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive bud.

He had to grind down on the bed himself to relieve some of his own tension, reminding himself to keep his focus on you. His grip on your leg tightened as you arched your back, squirming more and more against his touch. “God…oh god…” You chanted, head tossed back, the leg draped over his shoulder kicking at his back. He knew you were close when your voice cracked, soft gasps escaped your lips. He continued lapping at you as you ground against his face, letting you ride through your orgasm – only stopping when your hands made purchase in his hair to get his attention. “C-can’t…can’t.”

Pulling back, he wiped your slick off his chin with his forearm, looking down at you. He watched as your chest heaved slowly, returning to a normal rhythm. Your uninjured eye was lidded less with shock and more with that familiar coming down of pleasure. He went to move back when you grabbed his arm, looking directly at him. “What about you?” He was a little shocked by the words, your concern for him. “I said I wanted to make you feel good.” He chalked it up to your likely traumatized and now lust hazed brain. “Don’t worry about me.” Leon made the motion to move again. “Wait.” You called, grip on his arm tightening. “What if… what if I want to?”

He didn’t move, unsure of how to respond. He’d already fucked up the mission, already covered you in his DNA, yours on him – but he couldn’t do what you were asking. That was too far.

“P-please?” You choked out, tears now welling in your eyes, spilling over and staining your cheeks again.

And just like that he was taken back to that day again, right before Raccoon City. A night he swore was the worst of his life, until he knew better. Sitting there across from him, begging him not to go – you sounded just like her too, like she was frozen in time beneath him. Even worse, this was the opposite of what he wanted, he wanted to make things easier for you, relax you. “I just want to be close, please? Please?” You were full on crying now, face scrunching up, barely able to catch your breath. “Ok. Ok.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again. “Shhh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. How do you want me to take you?” Your words came out between sniffles and hiccups. “Any way, you want.”

He nodded, sitting back enough to help you sit up, slipping your shirt off all the way. “Can you flip over for me? Lay down flat on your stomach.” He helped you comply with the command, still careful of your injuries. He could see the bandages on your feet had turned a slight pink. Once you were laid out the way he wanted, relaxed, face down into the pillow, he worked his own shirt off, tossing it over in a pile atop his jacket. His gun was removed from the holster, he was careful to lock the safety, discarding it with his other items. He left his pants on, undoing them enough to free his half hard cock, the head still weeping.

He spat in his hand, giving himself a few good tugs, feeling himself hardening fully again. “You ready?” “Yeah.” He crawled forward, gently lifting your butt up just enough for him to line himself at your soaking entrance. He grunted when he pressed in, you sucking him in warm and wet. He let you take a moment to relax down again as he leaned forward, pressing the entirety of his bare chest to your back, sinking his cock in slowly until he was buried all the way inside of your heat.

He kissed up your shoulders, and neck, rolling his hips into your slowly. “God you’re tight baby.” He whispered against your ear. He didn’t have the heart to rail you into the mattress, wanting to abate your request for closeness, intimacy. “S’big…” You lazily mumbled into the pillow. “I know, I know.” He crooned your neck just enough for him to lock your lips together again. “But you’re doing so good, taking me so well.” Letting you rest, he returned to focusing on the motion of setting a steady but not too rough pace, angling himself so that he hit that spot inside of you that had you whimpering again. He rewarded the noises by rolling you both onto the side, where he could wrap an arm around you like a tight hug, leg gently pulled over over his own so he had a better angle. Likely for the best, Leon was close already, he slowed down more, returning to simply rolling his hips as he trailed his hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your naval and thighs before rubbing at your clit for a bit as he kissed and sucked softly against your neck. He fucked you like he would’ve done to her, like you were his lover, the most important thing to him.

Your velvet walls felt like heaven as they squeezed against him, closer and closer to your own second orgasm. “That’s it baby.” He whispered hotly against your ear. “One more time for me, ok?” He sped up his fingers, feeling you tighten around him so much that he nearly felt his own eyes roll back. “G-good girl.” He praised, gripping your hip to speed up his own movements, his balls tightening as he came, cock throbbing as spurts of his seed painted your insides.

Leon held you like that for a while, curling in on you, offering soft praises as he nuzzled into your neck from behind. He didn’t move a muscle until your breath evened out completely, and he could tell by the low thrum of your heartbeat that you were incredibly close, if not already asleep. He looked up at the clock on the nightstand – 4:45am it read. He had about 20 more minutes max before someone from HQ would be sent in as backup, now that he’d been MIA for so long.

Now fully soft, he gently pulled himself out of you, and carefully rolled off the bed. He watched you for any more signs of movement as he buckled back up and redressed. There was that eerie silence settling over the house again, he felt heavy with the weight of the evening crushing against him like an invisible force. He wished for a moment that the world would swallow him up where he stood so he didn’t have to face his responsibilities, the consequences.

You looked peaceful laying there. He knew it was just the exhaustion, shock, and grief, that kept you tugged under the waves of unconsciousness, but for his own sake he pretended you were in a truly relaxed state. Moreso, he was glad you wouldn’t experience any more of that pain or fear tonight. Leon clicked the safety off the gun, watching you for any signs of movement. Not even a twitch as he cocked the gun again. He walked over, sitting at the side of the bed again, eyeing you over one more time. It felt like he was saying goodbye to a lot of things at that moment, his ex all over again, your future, another piece of the man he wanted to be. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this, you know?” He whispered, mostly to himself as he pressed the barrel of the pistol to the pillow.

He couldn’t look this time. He wouldn’t look this time. His chest tightened, having to take a moment to stop the bile trying to work its way up, and the urge to cry that had him wanting to heave against the floor. He grabbed his earpiece as he made his exit.

“This is Kennedy to HQ – the last target has been exterminated.”

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ahockeywrites · 2 months

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quick - nico hischier

pairing: fem!reader x nico hischier word count: 1.4k warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), no foreplay apologies, this is a quickie. thanks to the anon who requested this

You rounded the corner, the skirt of your sundress riding dangerously high on your thigh. Your arms were covered with a black blazer and around your neck hung your credentials. Social Media Manager for the New Jersey Devils.

You had started the job following your graduation from Rutgers and loved every minute of it. From taking photos of the players during warm ups, to subjecting them to silly TikTok videos. It was something you could never take for granted.

It was game day and you were running around making sure that all the right information was with the right people. You had become friends with some of the broadcasters and knew who to give little bits of random information to, so they could drop things in during the show.

You continued walking down the corridor to your office, heels clicking against the floor making your presence known. Everyone who worked for the Devils was incredibly nice and you were so thankful because when you did a Summer Placement, it was anything but.

The door to your office opened with a groan, reminding you that you needed to grease up the hinges soon because it would drive you insane if you didn’t. You sat down in your chair, logging into your computer so you could quickly tweet out some pre game graphics and interact with the fans.

A knock on the door of your office took your attention away from the tweet you were composing, one about the NJ Devil running around Prudential Center with a drum, terrorising different members of the team.

“Come in,” you called out and Nico Hischier entered your office. You didn’t usually do the walk in videos so seeing him in a suit was a completely different side of him that you hadn’t seen before. His hair was well styled and his suit fit around his muscles perfectly, accentuating them in the best way.

“How can I help,” you asked, undoing the button of your jacket and taking it off. Nico’s gaze remained on your face, no matter how much he wanted to look down. The captain had a crush on you from the first time you walked in the door. At first he thought it was just a harmless crush, one that would go away after a few nights between the sheets with someone.

It didn’t. It made him want to spend more time with you. So every time you needed someone to take part in a TikTok challenge, or an interview for the YouTube channel, he’d volunteer. It didn’t stop the other players on the team teasing him. They all knew that he had a crush on you and it was something they wanted to try and facilitate.

Then there was the night out. The one time you had gone out with the team after a game, rather than with your friends as usual. He watched as you took shots with Jack and downed a beer faster than he had ever seen. The way you looked into his eyes as you drank your pornstar Martini, licking your lips after each sip. Nico’s cock hardened just thinking about it.

“Just wondering if you’d be sitting on the bench during warm ups,” he asked innocently, batting his eyelashes. You refrained from rolling your eyes because he already knew the answer.

“Yes cap,” you saluted him in response. “I will be there, as I always am.” You pushed your chair behind yourself, stood up and walked around to the front of your desk to stand face to face with the Swiss man. Even in your heels, Nico was still taller than you.

“Anything else?” You asked as you cocked your head to the side. There must be another reason for him stopping by. He wouldn’t just stop by your office for no reason. Would he?

“You look really good today,” he complimented as he looked you up and down, taking in the flowery dress you had chosen to wear for the matinee game. “You always look good.”

“Thank you,” you replied not really knowing what else to say.

“Ever since you walked into the press room the first time, I’ve thought you were beautiful. This dress really brings out your eyes,” Nico continued. “And your lips.”

He inched closer to you, not wanting to encroach on your space too quickly, giving you the opportunity to turn him down.

“And then that night at the bar, your cheetah print skirt,” he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck as he spoke. “You looked so happy.”

You craned your neck up to look Nico in the eyes. “I was happy,” you told him. “Because you were there.”

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You don’t know how you make me feel princess.”

“I think I can see,” your gaze dropped to his pants and the bulge that you could see.

“We have 20 minutes until I need to be downstairs getting ready,” he told you as the hand that was around your neck made its way down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

“I need to be down in 10,” you replied, leaning in so your lips were millimetres apart. All it would take is one move, from either of you, and you would be kissing.

Nico took the initiative and pressed his lips to yours, starting with a few gentle kisses that turned passionate quickly. His hands didn’t know where to go, all he wanted to do was touch you, feel you.

“Wait,” you pulled away. Nico pouted, lips red from your lipstick. “Let me lock the door.”

Ah, Nico thought, that made sense. Neither of you would want someone walking in on what was about to happen.

As soon as you locked the door and turned back around, his lips were back on yours, tongue poking past your lips and into your mouth. Your hands found his hair, tugging, wanting more.

Nico pushed you against the wall, starting a trail of kisses down your neck to the tops of your breasts. “Been thinking about these for months,” he admitted.

“Fuck, we have to make this quick,” Nico groaned as he yanked down his slacks and boxers in one go, the red tip of his cock leaking pre-cum. Your lips attacked his neck with kisses, you couldn’t leave a mark on him, someone would notice.

“I got tested last week, all negative, have the coil,” you got out between kisses.

“Mine was two days ago, all negative too,” he replied. “You want this?” You nodded faster than you ever had in your life.

“Jump princess,” he whispered into your ear and you obeyed. Your legs wrapped around him and with a little shuffling, he sunk himself inside you fully. Your lips found his once more.

His hands settled on your hips and he slowly started to thrust up into you, keeping you pinned in place. You kicked off your shoes which allowed you to dig your heels into Nico’s firm ass.

One of his large hands found their way under the skirt of your dress, in search of your clit. He found it faster than anyone else other than yourself had and Nico almost came when he heard your sweet moans of please as he rubbed the bud.

“C’mon baby,” he continued the strategic rubbing of your clit with the pounding of your pussy and your mind started to become fuzzy as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” you gasped as Nico started sinking his teeth into your neck, not even thinking about the marks he was making.

“Come for me princess,” he groaned, holding back his release that was imminent.

You listened and your head threw itself back whilst your eyes rolled back. Stars filled your vision as you reached your climax, hands pulling at Nico’s hair which was certain to be a mess.

You could feel your heart beating hard but it was nothing compared to the force of Nico’s final few thrusts and the feeling of his release coating your walls. Sweat graced both of your foreheads but that didn’t stop you leaning in and pressing some more kisses to his lips.

“Fuck princess,” he moaned, voice low and deep. “Let me clean you up.” He pulled himself out of you, still holding you up against the wall with his arms, and you whined at the loss of him.

He carried you over and placed you on your desk before grabbing some tissues that were in a box on the wooden surface. Nico quickly wiped between your legs before pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Sweets, you need to head downstairs,” he informed you. All you could do is shake your head.

“I can barely walk, I’ll be Bambi in my shoes,” you groaned.

“Should have thought about that before you let me fuck you silly.”

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey story #nhl writing #Nhl smut #hockey smut #nh13 #nico hischier fic #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine

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bunudaha · 1 year

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mister-a-z-fell · 7 months

Text

I was asked to provide a guide to the Celestial Hierarchy, so this is a very rough guide, with certain details omitted for various reasons.

The ‘alt text’ thingy didn’t seem willing to contain a full description, so I include it below:

An attempt at describing the informative ‘graphical’ representation.

The image describes the Hierarchy of Heaven, with the titles of angelic choirs and notes on their roles and functions.

God is, of course, at the top (although in a more dimensionally accurate depiction, this would be the centre).

Beneath God is the Metatron - Voice of God. The appended note reads ‘TECHNICALLY PART OF THE SERAPHIM’ but further information is blocked out with ‘REDACTED’ in its place.

There are three groups of angels below Metatron. They are the First, Second and Third Spheres.

The First Sphere includes Seraphim, Cherubim and Thrones.

The following notes are attached:

1: ARCHANGELS (this is written with a capital A)

Senior management, drawn from the ranks of Seraphim and Cherubim.

Theirs are CENTRE-FACING ROLES (Enacting the Will of God, facilitation of the Plan, long-term strategies and Angelic Resources).

2: As a point of etiquette, Seraphim and Cherubim are only to be spoken of as a plurality. Do not refer to one Seraph or one Cherub. 3. Cherubim are not to be confused with Cherubs — young/neonate angels, or cherubs — quasi-sentient firmament devices. (The word ‘cherub’ is written with strangely accented letters, suggesting that the words may sound different.)

Thrones have their own role description: LOGISTICS & LARGE-SCALE

MACROCOSMIC FORCES, and an additional, emphatic note: NO WHEELS. NONE OF US HAVE WHEELS.

The Second Sphere includes Dominions, Virtues and Powers.

The role description for Dominions and Virtues reads: ARCHITECTS. ENGINEERS, FIRMAMENT-SMITHS, but the description beside Powers has been redacted.

The Third Sphere includes Principalities, archangels (with a small a) and Angels.

A note on etiquette regarding archangels reads ‘don’t forget the small a. But don’t bring it up in conversation’.

This Sphere is characterised as ‘EARTH-FACING ROLES & ADMINISTRATION — Guidance, observation, soul-conservation & procurement, record-keeping’.

A note on Principalities warns ‘Don’t make jokes about how few of them there are’ and ‘This means you, Sandalphon.’

Conversely, regarding Angels, the advice says ‘There are so many of them. Millions. Don’t try to remember every name when you can generally get away with ‘Mumble-iel’.

#good omens #good omens 2 #The Hierarchy of Heaven #informational graphic image #don’t rely on Ezekiel #Pseudo-Denys was drunk #although to be fair so was I

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wangxianficfinder · 3 months

Text

I'm in the mood for...

Feb 9th

LINK LIMIT REACHED (check out the replies for more recs!)

~*~

1. hello!! itmf request for jiang cheng time travel fics. no jc bashing please and thank you ♥️ and ✌️

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, wangxian, JC & WWX; JC & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Not Everyone Dies au, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, WWX/babie tendencies, WQ is a queen in any reality, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, WWX finds new ways to be oblivious, seriously it surprised even us) JC and LWJ time travel together

🔒 a path with thorns Series by baekhyun (baruna) (T, 22k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Brotherhood, Complicated Relationships, JC-centric, Spoilers, Sibling Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Humor, Angst, not romance-oriented)

Hand in Hand Together (All Your Life) by sami (T, 41k, WZL/JC, WangXian, Queerplatonic relationship, Implied future MingLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Slow Burn) just JC time travels

~*~

2. for itmf, are there any fics in which wei wuxian does not reincarnate, or any modern aus in which he dies? /bunnycoffeeumcat

Threadfic by lamusadelils (LZ prepare WY body for funeral)

goodbye, wei ying by wordsonpage (T, <1k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Modern, Growing Old Together, Established Relationship, Character Death, Angst and Feels, Death from Old Age, Angst, Reminiscing)

Lament by kianspo (G, 8k, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Slice of Life, Character Study, Canonical Character Death, except he doesn't come back, as this covers decades, eventually other people die, Mysticism, this is pretty sad y'all, i'll be honest about that, though i was aiming for melancholy, One Hundred Years of Solitude mood)

🔒 Entropy by mondengel (Not rated, 1k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Angst, Character Death) Wy dies a second time

Nothing but a Dream by Purplemagic (G, 1k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Not A Happy Ending) Wy die a second time

🔒 …and other dreams. by mondengel (E, 2k, wangxian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Charater Death, Eldrich au, Horror, Gore, Body Horror, Murder, Death, A/B/O, Mpreg, Dark fic)

Obvious Progression by GammaRays (M, 21k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Modern, Disease, Illnesses, Chronic Illness, Cancer, rare disease, Fabry disease, Artist WWX, Medical Procedures, Hospitals, Angst, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Surgery, this is just very sad all around, there are some light-hearted moments too though, like proms and crocheted thigh-highs, Sick LWJ, Sick WWX)

Obvious Conclusion by FairyGardenCorgis (T, 7k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Modern, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Grief/Mourning, Medical Procedures, Hospitals, PTSD)

Freefall by cherrywhiskey (T, 1k, wangxian, Modern, Hurt No Comfort, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst and Tragedy, Grief/Mourning, Aftermath of wwx's murder, Dead WWX, POV LWJ, Dark LWJ)

🔒 rest by pasteltea (T, 3k, gen, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, Modern, Grief/Mourning, Introspection)

~*~

3. Hi! Do you know any fics which center Nie Huaisang or him just having a bigger role in the fic? Can be anything, NHS ships, him just being a facilitator, modern era, whatever! It would be great if he's kinda scheming for the benefit of his friends, or s/t where someone has the hots for him and he's surprised?

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, NHS needs a new hobby, And apparently that's spoiling his Wei-Xiong, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh) NHS takes WWX in post-canon

Second on 🔒 like mayflies wandering series by RoseThorne (E, 21k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, Assassination Attempt(s), Introspection, Regret, Travel, Post-Canon, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Ghosts, Reconciliation, Exhaustion, Pining, Pre-Wangxian, Pining, Feelings Realization, Illnesses, ennui, Found Family, Porn Reading, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulative NHS, Memories, WWX Needs a Hug, Pining WWX, Friendship, NHS Is A Little Shit, Qi Deviation, Resentful Energy, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Triggers, Fainting, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Grief/Mourning)

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm for Lisa_Telramor ( T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mystery, Smart NHS, WWX doesn’t stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship)

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon)

Something Divine by jusrecht (T, 3k, NHS & NMJ)

CH 3 of second verse, same as the first by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, wangxian, Everybody Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Crack Treated SeriouslyS, erious Conversations That They Never Got To Have In Canon, JC has no filter when he's mad, Even Some People They Maybe Would Rather Didn't Live, canon-typical trauma, even if it hasn't happened in this timeline they still gotta deal with the memories, reference to child death, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, WN Lives, WQ Lives, this is absolutely positively definitely Wei Wuxian's fault, Memory Loss, Implied/Referenced Suicide)

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, QS & JYL, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, only the summoner sticks around, slightly dark JYL, WQ lives, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Switch Wangxian, WWX has to be resurrected & LWJ find out before they can interact, but there’s plenty of wangxian once they do, manipulative relationship)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, POV LWJ, īthis started as a crazy rich asians au but quickly got away from me, light moments of angst but mostly shenanigans)

The Mustache by Fortune_Maiden (G, 2k, JGY & NHS, JC & NHS, LXC & NHS, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, NHS grows a mustache, there is much despairing)

Walking Along a Different Road by Anonymous (Not rated, 5k, MS & JGY, MS & NMJ, MS & NHS, NHS & NMJ, JGY/NMJ, WIP, Angst, Canon Divergence, POV MS, MS Lives, Good Parent MS, Hurt/Comfort)

there is no limited dimensions by Stratisphyre (M, 104k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, WQ/MM, WN/Other(s), Star Trek Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Assumed Character Death, Minor Character Death, Tags on Each Chapter, references to non-con, references to canonical slavery, (The Orion Syndicate is just really bad okay?), bizarre space mpreg, Implied Future Pairings, POV Multiple, The Author Indulges in a Crack Pairing or Two, Accidental Child Acquisition, Found Family, Genius WWX)

Kiss of the Rose by sami (M, 8k, NHS/OFCs, NHS & NMJ, NHS & MXY, NHS & JGY, Family, original trans female character, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, but only one of them knows it at the time, Pining, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, NHS drinks Respect For Women juice, courting, Please read notes)

day without night and night without day by xcourtney_chaoticx (T, 27k, NHS & NMJ, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX, Ladyhawke Fusion, Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), Animal Transformation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Attempted Forced Marriage, evil JGY)

the more things seem to change by littlebasketbun (G, 26k, LXC/NMJ, JC/NHS, wangxian, Modern, High School, Matchmaking, failed matchmaking, oblivious idiots in love)

The Same River Twice by nirejseki (Not rated, 17k, NHS & NMJ, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Unexpected development)

Counting Brushes by Fortune_Maiden (T, 6k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff & crack, humor, hurt/comfort)

🔒 Just Children to War by Anonymous (T, 4k, NHS & NMJ, Angst, Niè Siblings Dynamics, Niè Siblings Feels, Post-Episode 10 (CQL), Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, NHS Needs a Hug, POV NMJ, Early Sunshot Campaign, offscreen death)

silly love songs series by wildwestwind (E, 67k, wangxian, 3zun, JGY/XY, NHS & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LWJ/WWX/WN, JC/NHS, JGY & XY, XXC/XY, LWJ & WN, WQ & WWX, JC & WWX, Sex Work, Consensual Non-Consent, BDSM, Bad Decisions, Angst, Blow Jobs, Modern, Sex Worker Author, Masturbation, Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Kinkphobia, Self-Hatred, Unhappy Ending, Horny Teenagers, Guilt, Past Rape/Non-con, LWJ is sad and horny, Baking, Politics, Hackers, Trans Female WWX, Aftercare, play piercing, bad polyamory, Marriage Proposal, Homophobia, Class Issues, Face Slapping, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Jealousy, Verbal Humiliation, Tenderness, Affection, Dubious Consent, JGY is a bad person and oblivious to his feelings, Drunkenness, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Autistic Character, Autistic LXC, Kid Fic, Autistic LWJ, Trans Female NHS, Childhood Friends, Impregnation, Fluff, Worldbuilding, Bickering, inappropriate use of university library access, Biology, Sadism, Mutual Pining, Self-Indulgent Political Arguments, JGY is so bad at feelings, Porn with Feelings, Falling In Love, Alzheimer's Disease, nursing homes, Sharing a Bed, Fake Marriage, Sickfic, Misgendering, Misgendering Kink, JC Needs a Hug, JC Has Self-Esteem Issues, Kink Negotiation, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC is Bad at Communicating, POV JC, Protective JC, Domestic Fluff, everyone is happy, brief use of reclaimed slurs, Internalized Transphobia, Humor, Drunk Sex, Loss of Virginity, Eating Disorders, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, College/University, Confused Takes On Feminism, Crossdressing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Barebacking, Post-Divorce, Therapy, Friendship, Christmas, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Cultural Differences, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, WWX Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, POV WWX, WQ Is Bad At Medical Ethics, Pining, Grief, Porn AU, Twitter, Idiots in Love, it's not so much that WWX is pushing WN's boundaries as that WN's boundaries are feather-light gossamer and WWX is a very oblivious freight train)

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NMJ/LXC, wangxian, NHS/WN, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

Jailbreaking by CullenBlue (T, 21k, WN & NHS, Canon Compliant, POV NHS, NHS Is A Little Shit, Cinnamon Roll WN, Fierce Corpse WN, Ghost General WN, References to Heavens Official's Blessing, References to The Scum Villain's Self Saving System, NHS insulting the Wen Clan's taste in interior Decorating, Mentions of Murder, WN made a friend by talking about his childhood trauma, BAMF WN, Panic Attacks, mentions of gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence in the Name of Comedy, Trauma, Is NHS taking anything seriously? who knows, Bromance)

the final cut by Wildehack (tyleet) (E, 19k, SangYu, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Ideation, Emotional Manipulation, offscreen child death, extremely ill advised sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Grief/Mourning, basically it's a BUMMER) is good but angsty with a bittersweet ending (because it's canon compliant)

~*~

4. Hi!!!!! Thank you so much for everything that you’re going you are literal life savers 🥺🫡

For the next ITMF do you have anything like

A) “On Impulse” by Rynne

B) Or you know that one fan art of teen wwx kissing lwj and lwj being shocked and blushing (pinterest link : https://pin.it/7vWC7oRZ9)

C) And also do you know any fics where wwx shows blatant favoritism towards lsz and the other juniors are jealous till they discover he’s his son ??

Anyway thank you so much ✨✨✨✨✨✨ /ihaveasoftspotfora-yuan

Keep Up by mimilamp (E, 27k, WangXian, High School, First Time, Practice Kissing, Practice hj, Infidelity, Sexual Content, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Pining while fucking, Teen Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk) Not sure this is a great fit for #4 as it is both a modern AU and angsty, but it is teenage WangXian getting into it

~*~

5. Hi, I’m in the mood for a fic where... The Untamed is in Top Chef or other cooking shows? I know there are three complete about the great British bake off and also Battle Chefs by Sami, but I want... no, I need more!!! Also, any others about dancing show besides the Wangxian Strictly AU Series by Selenay and Unstrictly Ballroom by Ariaste that I found in the lists here!! I love reality TV fics!! I have read all the ones in the Reality TV list!! Be well and thanks!! Monica /monicaop21

we’re dancing around the kitchen by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 37k, WIP, WangXian, HuaLian, Reality Show, Modern AU, Worst Cooks in America AU, Cooking, Bad Cooking, war crimes committed in the form of cooking, Crack, Fluff, content warning for absolute unhinged chaos, XL Can't Cook, Simp HC) is a Worst Cooks In America AU MDZS/TGCF crossover

and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, wangxian, modern, fantasy, reality tv, angst w/ happy ending, survival, blood & gore, self-harm, animal death, slow burn) is a made-up reality show in Antarctica (fair bit of angsty, be forewarned)

~*~

6. Hi! First off, thank you for everything you guys do! Much appreciated!

This one might be a bit off-topic, as not necessarily wangxian, but... I've been reading through your juniors shenanigans list and I was wondering if you can help? If not, 100% ok, and thank you anyway!

A) something with LJY meeting bb!a'Yuan? De-aged, time travel, or missing scenes from canon, it's all good!

B) anything with my main darling OZZ as the/one of the main characters? Junior-centric fics are so much fun! (Or they're soul-destroying, but in the best way.) /katonahottinroof

6A)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WWX & LSZ, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor) The Juniors go back in time. LJY ends up at the Burial Mounds

Of Bunnies and Childhood Dreams series by iamtheelvenprince (T, 39k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & LWJ, LJY & LSZ, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds, Pre-Canon, The inbetween years, Teacher LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, POV LWJ, Child LSZ, LSZ's Childhood, Poor LJY, Family Feels, Supportive bros, Gūsū Lán Sect, LWJ loves his students, bad teachers, What happens when LQR isn't home, LWJ's ducklings, Supportive LXC, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Bunnies, Protective LWJ, LJY-centric, Child LJY, Sad LJY, Good Kid LJY, teachers playing favourite, unsupportive teachers, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Baby LJY, Baby LSZ, LWJ loves his boys, LXC is overworked, Give LXC a nap, Light Angst, Family Bonding, LXC needs a hug, Lantern Festivals, memorial service, Secrets, Secret family, LQR loves his boys, LQR as the best great-uncle, Hurt, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Broken Promises, Finding Ones Self, Self-Reflection, Brotherly Love, Brotherly Affection, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy, Protective LXC, BAMF NHS, NHS-centric, NHS Needs a Hug, Manipulation, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Aftermath of Fatal Journey, Betrayal, Petty LWJ, Good Uncle JC, Good Parent LWJ, Protective LJY, JGS Being an Asshole, JGS Being an Idiot, JGY Being JGY, massive time skips, Teaching, Serious Injuries, Graphic Description, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Damage, Sad Dreams, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Madam Jin deserved better, JC-centric, POV JC, JC Needs a Hug, JC Needs Therapy, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

no time for crying by Narci (T, 10k, WangXian, Wwx protection squad, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid WWX, kid LSZ, night hunt gone absolutely right, (lowkey golden core fix it), Fluff, Angst and Feels, Humor, Juniors)

Back in time by LilacNeko (T, 32k, wangxian, Time Travel, Alternate Timelines, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst, Family Feels, Good Kid LSZ, LSZ Needs a Hug, Sad JL, JL Needs a Hug)

6B)

🔒 卧薪尝胆 by RoseThorne (G, 1k, wangxian, OYZZ & WWX, Petty LWJ, Bunnies, False Accusations, scapegoating, Cultivation Sect Politics, Chief Cultivator LWJ, POV Third Person, POV WWX)

🔒 Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar by masked (T, 13k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Time Travel, Wangxian in Love, 5+1 Things, Jealous WWX, the Impeccable Trust between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, POV Outsider, everyone is Thirsty for Hanguang-jun as one tends to be)

visions of glittering rooms by Sour_Idealist (T, 1k, A-Qing/OYZZ, A-Qing/OYZZ/LJY, Modern USA, Alcohol, Poor Movie Theater Etiquette, Drunk Postmovie iHop)

between the pages of some novel by yuer (vintageblueskies) (T, 7k, JL & OYZZ & LJY & LSZ, wangxian, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Sex Curse, non-explicit discussion of sex and porn, junior shenanigans, the mortifying ordeal of trying to figure out if your seniors are having sex, no sex happens in this fic, the author attempts humor)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, Podfic Available)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

~*~

7. Is there any fics where LWJ just loses it and slams WWX into a wall or onto a bed or something to kiss him? Like, he just can't take it anymore,, his restraint is GONE! WWX is just too tempting he needs this boy NOW (bottom WWX only pls no implied/referenced switching either oh and no rape it must be consensual or WWX approved CNC)

🔒 感情用事 by rosethorne (T, <1k, wangxian, Frustration, Anger, Embarrassment, Grief/Mourning, Biting, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV LWJ, POV Third Person)

🔒 joined delight by RoseThorne (M, 1k, wangxian, underage, fast burn, Making Out, Marking, Frottage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Marathon Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Love at First Sight, Swords, Horniness, POV Third Person, POV LWJ, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses Study Arc)

~*~

8. Are there any fics where wangxian are A) babysitters or tutors and meet through that? or B) run a stall/work at a store?

8A)

💖 But really, why? by Scrippio (T, 52k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WQ/JC, Modern, College/University) features Wei Ying & Lan Zhan as tutors, though I can't remember if that's how they met.

~*~

9. heyy admins! itmf more darkji fics where lwj is possessive of wwx, something like 'so he thinks he's Straight (a memoir by lan zhan)' by pancho. thanks!!

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ) LWJ is very dark & possessive in this

~*~

10. hi!! i’m itmf for a fic where wwx time travels to the modern era. i’ve seen some fanart and short twitter threads about it where lwj explains modern tech to him and he’s all amazed, but haven’t stumbled upon any fics.

i also wouldn’t mind fics of the reverse where lwj time travels /nalalie

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 128k, WIP, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX) it's not time travel in the traditional sense, instead he gets trapped in ice for 15 hundred years. But he does get taught modern Chinese and technology by LWJ and LSZ! Plus protective WQ and NMJ are so fun to read ^^ - Mod C

结局难更改 (the ending is hard to change) Series by PorcupineGirl (G, 50k, WangXian, Modern with Magic AU, Canon Divergence, Time travel, Reincarnated LWJ & LXC, YL WWX, Reincarnation, Secret Identity, Identity reveal) has WWX time travelling to the modern day rather than falling to his death

counterpart by queensmooting (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, Multiple Selves, Kid Fic, some child endangerment (everyone will be fine), lwj can and has gotten pregnant, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, bittersweet ending (ymmv)) way too much time/dimension travel

🔒 不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Reunions, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, References to Canon, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, jzx motherhenning wwx, First Time, Sharing Clothes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies) it not a time travel but WWX teach LWJ modern tech and depend on your interpretation it could be time travel fic, i think?

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, wangxian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Fish out of Water, Man Out of Time, WWX questionable decisions, LWJ lizard brain, Angst with a Happy Ending, WWX's lack of self-preservation, Student WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard LWJ, Slow Burn, Character Death, reference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon, LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, WWX be like "i should be scared but instead im just horny", feat: LWJ horny grip, Podfic Available, Case Fic, Russian Translation Available, Transmigration, America, Spanish Translation Available) lwj accidentally time travels to the modern era

Echoes of Love by Witch_Nova221 (M, 212k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Time Travel, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, university lecturer LWJ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Dark BSSR, Amnesia, Memory Loss, 1980s music, LWJ loves all things 80s, Oxford vs Cambridge, Boat Race, References to Torture, Murder, Blood and Injury, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mystery) is brilliant with an interesting premise

~*~

11. Do you know any fic (preferably wangxian) where wwx accidentally calls jyl mom ???? The thought popped up in my head and I can’t stop thinking about it 😅😂 /ihaveasoftspotfora-yuan

~*~

12. for itmf!!! no wips pls

A) longer fics w sugar dating or service top!!

B) in which one of them is a single parent, or kid fics really

12A)

November Baby by astrophyllite (E, 172k, NMJ/JC, Modern, College/University, Sex Work, Sugar Daddy, Slow Burn, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Condoms, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Frottage, Switching, JCn Has A Praise Kink, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Dog Bàxià, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Emotionally Significant Duck Figurines, Trans JZX) mingcheng not wangxian but if you're okay with a different ship

❤️ All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 52k, wangxian, modern, reincarnation, sugar daddy, kink negotiation, gentle dom LWJ) aaaand some wangxian sugar dating ones that the requester probably already knows about, but linking just in case / is basically a truly wonderful twist on this premise

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Actors, Multimedia, Online Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Underage Drinking, Drinking Games, Families of Choice, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Catfish AU)

The Sugar Daddy AU Series by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 106k, wangxian, modern, sugar daddy, sex work, dom/sub, aftercare, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, bondage, boundary setting, relationship negotiation) is basically perfection of this premise

finally safe (for me to fall) by sassybluee (E, 77k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, Sex Work, Rich WWX, Older WWX, Service Top WWX, Poor LWJ, Single Parent LWJ, Sugar Baby LWJ, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Cockblocking, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, No Lube, Lube, Addiction, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, wangxian + others) is a complete flip of the typical premise - Wei Wuxian as the sugar daddy

12B)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Single Parent WWX, Homophobia, LQR’s A+ Parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots to lovers)

🔒💖 Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark & lingeringdust (E, 46k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Is it bad parenting to bring a baby on a nighthunt, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death)

💖 The Best I Can by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 26k, LJY & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, light angst, drama, recovery, coming of age, secret identity fail, rogue cultivator LWJ, road trips, happy ending)

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental baby acquisition, Kid fic, Green card marriage (but not really), Slow Burn, Endless Pining, Happy ending, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer)

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist, Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona))

🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder)

Magic Mishap by Regency_Bunny (T, 8k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Single parent WWX, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, Meet cute, Love at first sight, Himbo LXC, Magic tricks)

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher!lwj, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

Window Shopping by thunderwear (E, 18k, wangxian, Modern, quarantine fic, Single Dad WWX, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Happy Ending, First Time, Phone Sex, switching POV, Domestic Fluff, some smut)

These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 30k, wangxian, Modern, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Injury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents)

say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn (E, 68k, wangxian, Family Feels, Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Adoption, Foster Care, most of the angst is backstory and we're working through it, several characters have had therapy thank god, there's a good amount of domestic fluff but also a lot of crying, Often at the same time, oh yeah eventually there will be smut, possibly also with crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Available)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, wangxian, Modern, single dad LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let LWJ have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

The stuffed bunny, the beautiful nephew, and other gifts from Lan Qiren by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, Modern, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff)

🧡 your heart, two doors down by ghostsgf (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pining, Parenting)

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

🔒Betting On You by kuro (G, 5k, WangXian, Domestic Fluff Single Parent WWX, Neighbors, Modern AU, Pining, Music Teacher LWJ, Programmer WWX)

Can we keep him? by Sweetlittlevampire (G, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, Shapeshifters, Animal Transformation, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, Single Dad WWX, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Modern with Magic, [Podfic] Can we keep him? by Rionaa)

~*~

13. Hi!

A) I would like to ask you to find some wangxian fics with multi chaptered royal au .

B) Omegaverse fic where wwx is a strong omega

Thanks

13A)

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 107k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty, Emperor WWX, Mistaken Identity, Poor LWJ, Bookshop owner LWJ, Intrigue, Court Drama, Forced Marriage, Confused WWX, POV Alternating, Parenthood, Misunderstandings, Empress LWJ, Requited Unrequited Love, Fluff, Humor, Married Life, Angst with a Happy Ending) my fic fits the bill!

shattered mirrors by besanii

🧡 The Emperor's Portrait by catbrainedschemes (E, 32k, WangXian, Historical, Ancient China, Historically Inaccurate, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Happy Ending, Fluff, Emperor!LWJ, artist!wwx, Misunderstandings, Hand Kink, Strength Kink, Smut, gege kinkl, ots of staring, Dirty Talk, Canon-Typical Bondage) (link in royalty au comp)

True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings) (link in royalty au comp)

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 144k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, A/B/O, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Angst with a happy ending) (link in royalty au comp)

13B)

I Will Not Go Gentle into the Quiet Night by TriviasFolly (M, 89k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, no cultivation au, Vaugely Historical AU?, royal au, War AU, Slow Burn, Attempted Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder) mind the tags

🔒 Wilful Blindness ≠ Ignorance by Cy_an_Blue (E, 59k, wangxian, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, LSZ is a Wèi, WWX is LSZ's Parent, Child LSZ, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Original Character Death(s), Implied/Referenced Child Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Mpreg, Past Mpreg, War, End of War, Post-War, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Gore, Prisoner of War, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, One-Sided Attraction, but not really, Falling In Love, SS Being an Asshole, Angst and Tragedy, Period-Typical Sexism, Period Typical Attitudes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Requited Love, Getting Together)

🔒 Three Letters, Six Etiquettes by 2501987 (M, 24k, wangxian, JC/LXC, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Angst and Humor, Romance, Idiots in Love, Eventual Romance, Soft Wangxian, WWX is a Little Shit, LWJ is Whipped, BAMF JYL, Family Feels, Awkward First Times, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Bad Sex, Wedding Night, Cute Kids, Domestic Fluff)

~*~

14. hello!! not sure if i was able to send this ask already, but do you know any fics were lsz is referenced as the lan heir? thank you! ☺️ /cuddlemehun

A Civil Combpaign Series by Ariaste (T, 19k, JL/LSZ, wangxian, arranged marriage, courting, teenage drama, humor) it's mentioned in the second fic, Besieged

~*~

15. Hello! For ITMF I am looking for canon-divergent fics where Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen help fight through the Sunshot Campaign, and perhaps join Wei Wuxian in the Burial Mounds after. I would love for Wei Wuxian to have had more allies in those years. Thank you for any suggestions! /gloriousclotpole

The Tiger has Destroyed his Cage by updatebug (G, 54k, WangXian, Shapeshifters, Fix-it fic, Animal Pelts, Tiger WWX, Found Family, adopted family, Yungmeng Siblings, Canon appropriate angst and violence, Gratuitous OCs) the tiger fic has XXC&SL get involved in the Sunshot campaign on WWX's behalf. it's canon divergent/ends before the Burial Mounds Settlement Days, but it's also just a really fun fic (and great for "wwx has more allies")

💖 Xiao XingChen’s travelling sect series by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 43k, wangxian, SL/XXC, time travel, children, rogue cultivators, hurt/comfort, murder mystery, world travel) Maybe also "Xiao Xingchen's traveling sect"? that's canon divergent much earlier than the sunshot campaign though

~*~

16. Hello, I'm looking for works, where JC was the initial source of hate rumors targeted at WWX that led to his demise. Could you please help?

~*~

17. Hi, I'm itmf NHS as chief cultivator. Best if before wwx death. Maybe he saw that everything is gradually going shit and decides to abandon his weak persona mask early

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @/mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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visualpractitioner · 9 months

Text

How the stars aligning inform how I design my offerings

Like most artists, I flutter from idea to idea.

But when it comes to offering classes at Let’s Letter Together! I have a very different approach. I have been planning, setting intentions, harvesting, and sharing the abundance on an annual cyclical basis.

By Winter Solstice of each year, I plant my seeds of intention for the coming year. I let the fertile ground of my intentions help my ideas grow.

By Summer Solstice, my ideas are fully formed and ready to share.

This year I delivered: • Lettering with Pencils • Finding Your Signature Style

Then the real fun begins: Lammas/Harvest allows me to see and share with abundance. This year delivered a bumper crop. As I was planning to announce:

Dancing in the Dark with Sharon Zeugin

When The BigOne! Blowout happened:

BigOne Duet with Brandy Agerbeck

Let’s go BIG Together! (a free class on Neuland markers)

BIG Fun! with the BigOne! With Mike Gold

Not to eclipse my efforts with Sharon, these BigOne sessions have come together quite easily—inspired by a retrograding Venus transiting over my natal sun in Leo and the Venus Cazimi. While Dancing in the Dark has been in slow development for over a year—with good purpose.

Starting on the Fall Equinox when the light and dark are equal, we will begin Dancing with the Dark with Roman Capitals on black paper. Together we will dance with Sharon through a series of prompts and end our time together at Samhain, at a time when the veil is the thinnest, and we will be equipped to let go of what no longer serves us in order to step into the selves we need to become next.

From Sharon... "Let's use this time to emphasize connecting the lettering with personal feeling and one’s own words—a meaningful mantra or something fun to write. This is an opportunity for experimenting with improvisation in terms of writing words and designing as you go. We’ll start simply and grow from there, always rooted in the knowledge and experience of the forms—and variations on their rhythm, spacing, and proportions."

This launching of ideas and completing them by November 1 aligns perfectly with the Deer Walks I am doing with Cassandra Leoncini (http://www.twoeaglesastrology.com). This is the restart after a 7-year cycle since my first Deer Walks when I lived in DC and needed an integrated Vision Quest in order to leave so I may return to the Southwest.

And it’s after that time that I take all of the ideas I have gathered during this harvest season for 2024 and let them reveal their true selves.

Will I be collaborating more with master calligraphers to give our shared audiences what they need, want, and desire?

Will I both: return to the basics by offering more handwriting classes all WHILE helping visual practitioners Level Up so the important work they are doing is supported?

Will there be another European Lettering Tour? Since 2018 I have taught hundreds of VPs in over 10 different countries in-person. With so many more entering the field, do they need me in-person or will virtual learning continue to grow?

I read a quote on Instagram the other day that said:

“Set goals so high that they demand an entirely different version of you.”

I know where I want to put my focus in 2024:

Appreciative Inquiry,

Lettering,

Tech hosting and building curriculums to support trauma-informed communities

But will the stars align?

Only time will tell. As will my health and well-being in support of these efforts. Both my willingness to grow and the external forces outside of my control will determine what version of me will come next.

What future self are you currently developing?

#lettering #creativity #graphic recording #art coaching #graphic facilitation #calligraphy #astrology

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blackpearlblast · 25 days

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[ID: a graphic titled: "Help Ezzideen & his Family to Evacuate Gaza" the background of the graphic depicts the rubble of destroyed buildings. the contents of the graphic outline 5 steps.

1: First Step Achieved: Thanks to Your Support! We are thrilled to announce that, with your invaluable assistance, we have successfully raised the first €5,000! This amount has enabled us to register Ezzideen's mother with Hala Company in Egypt for evacuation. We are deeply grateful for your support in reaching this pivotal milestone.

2: Our Current Mission: Support for Mazen. Our focus now shifts towards gathering €2,500 to register Mazen, a 12-year-old family member, to evacuate alongside his mother. Every contribution brings us closer to ensuring their safety and reunion.

3: For Abeer: Our subsequent goal is to raise €5,000 to register Abeer, Ezzideen's sister, for evacuation. Your continued support is crucial in helping us secure her passage.

4: For Ezzideen's Father: We aim to collect another €5,000 to facilitate the registration of Ezzideen's father. This effort is vital for the family's hope of being together again.

5: Final Goal: Hassan and Ezzideen: The last phase of our campaign requires us to gather €10,000. This sum will cover the registration of Hassan (Ezzideen's brother) and Ezzideen himself. Achieving this goal means bringing the entire family to safety, a feat only possible with your generosity and support.

Your support is just a click away. Please visit our GoFundMe page to make a donation: https://gofund.me/8c4d61ac Every contribution brings Ezzideen's family one step closer to safety. Thank you for your generosity and support. end ID]

an outline of ezzideen and his family's evacuation plan. we are currently on step 2, raising money for mazen to register for evacuation! reminder that as of the time of making this post, we are matching donations to ezzideen's campaign! learn about that below!

#dp #gaza #north gaza #free gaza #palestine #free palestine

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alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

Text

throttle - jjk | seven

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - oof. goes without saying, it's angsty, graphic depictions of violence, physical and verbal fight between jk + joon, they are VILE to one another, drug usage (mostly snorting coke), alcohol, clubbing, taking things too far, insinuations of dangerous driving, illegal boxing rings, blood, one mention of the dark knight, one harvey dent quote, disgustingly sweet daydreams from jk, lewd references to sex, political dynamics, no smut, important plot points

PLEASE take note of the warnings. The fight is nasty, and both jk + nj use the women one another care about as weapons. Both men take things too far in a bid to make the other angry. The women -the oc and nj's sis- are objectified, degraded, spoken about sexually and yeah, just really unpleasant. These characters are career criminals. They are NOT nice people. Please consider your own limits before reading - I've actually edited this to make it a little more palatable and it's still not very nice.

word count - 13.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Metal clatters against the concrete floor of Kang's boxing club as soon as Jungkook opens his locker.

He's yanked it open with such ferocity that one of the bolts has fallen to the floor. Just a small one; a washer that helps to keep a hinge in place, but an inconvenience nonetheless. He stops. Sighs. Looks down at it for a moment, tells it to stop being a little bitch, and then rummages around in his locker for the black jumper he left in there a week prior.

His t-shirt drags against his skin as he sheds himself of it, still damp. The fabric slaps against the floor, echoing his mistakes around him, reverbing in the empty room. They bounce from wall to wall. Taunting him.

If he picks his shirt up off the floor, there'll be a stain of red on the ground.

Jimin's locker, once pristine, crumples beneath Jungkook's fist, overwhelmed by an unavoidable truth:

Jeon Jungkook destroys.

His touch impacts. Makes impressions. Leaves marks. There's no straightening out the door, he thinks. It'll always be rumpled by the indent of his knuckles. Disfigured. Broken.

Jungkook has been a hurricane for as long as he can remember; a facilitator of misfortune for those around him. He engulfs the best of people and spits them out again when they're at their worst.

If he really wants to, he can pinpoint the exact date and time he transcended from human to meteorological system. He's been upgraded recently - was once a tropical storm, is now a typhoon.

Destruction is just who he is. More fool him for thinking that clouds could break, and sun could shine.

Perhaps it's why things always worked so well between you both when the skies were dark, nightfall hiding who he was from plain sight. Any unpleasantries could be chalked up to bad dreams.

He rids himself of the clothes dampened by the commitment he made to you, a little red stain drying around the nape of his neck.

Despite his best attempts to lock it in, there's still dye leaking from strands of his hair, only serving to further remind him that you were never meant to be permanent.

You'll wash away with the spring rains that are set to fall in the coming months, and all he'll be able to do is watch as you drain into the gutter with the rest of his best-laid plans.

For a moment, he considers running. Wind cracks the back door open, light from a streetlamp pooling in. Dust dances in the orange beam, free and unrestricted by the confines of life. It's a freedom he'll never know, not really. He has choices he can make. Liberties he can take. He isn't really as trapped as he thinks he is - but the mind is a heavy prison for those who have shackled themselves to a predestined fate that doesn't exist.

It's not like he doesn't know this. He's aware that the only thing in the world that's stopping him is himself - but his feet are bolted to the floor with screws branded with the names of the people he loves: his mother, his father, one for each of the boys.

They're wound tight, twisted through his flesh and bones. He's tied to Daegu by everything he loves, and the promises he made to ensure that he'll never forget them.

But there's a missing screw, and it's threaded right through his heart. There's a name on it he wishes he'd never learnt, messy, and carved out in a hurry because he didn't have the time to properly process the way he felt until it was too late.

It pinches as he moves, scrapes against his spinal column, etches the letters into his bone.

You might not be permanent, but the mark you leave is as indelible as the ink on his skin.

He laughs when he thinks of you. Laughs in a way that isn't really a laugh. It's full of scorn, and loathing, and longing. The kind of laugh that settles in his stomach like acid that will surely burn away at his soft tissue. He'll disintegrate from the inside out before he ever has the chance to make amends.

Jungkook is pulled, all rather abruptly, from his thoughts when the entryway door slams open. His heart lifts in his chest, that damn nail scraping away at even more of his bone as it does so, body temperature rising and falling all within the same second.

"Here he is," Jimin greets him like a long lost friend. He only saw him, what? Five? Six days ago, maybe? "Where the hell have you been? And Christ, the hell happened to your hair?"

"Home," he says, eyes vacant, no trace of a lie. Of course, it isn't a lie - but it is a half-truth. He ignores the question about his hair. "Went to check on dad."

"How is he?"

"Same old," Jungkook shrugs, not needing to explain the situation. Jimin grew up with Jungkook. Knows the intricacies of his family history. He doesn't pry, and is rewarded with unfiltered access to the most private details of Jungkook's personal life.

Well, almost unfiltered.

Jimin doesn't know about you. He guesses. Notices. Clocks the way that Jungkook sometimes smells far sweeter, far more feminine, after a night of unexplained absence from the boxing club. Watches the way Jungkook keeps his phone on silent, but presses the lock screen far more frequently than usual to check for new messages. Can tell whenever there is a message waiting, because of the way Jungkook's cheeks twitch, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips, of which he refuses to let form.

It's adolescent, how Jungkook thinks he's able to hide his affections.

Jimin might not know for sure that it's you, but he knows his best friend well enough to know that it's someone. There's been no mention of a girl, not since Namjoon forced him into the ring after he found out about Naejeon, so he figures that it must be someone new.

Someone worth keeping secret.

Someone a lot like you.

When he looks over towards his locker, a deep-rooted sigh escapes his lips. "Really? Couldn't have fucked up your own?"

"Accident," Jungkook lies. "I'll swap our doors over."

Jungkook is good at solving problems, but is so quick - so logical - he doesn't often consider that perhaps the problem isn't the issue; it's the circumstances that led to the problem which need fixing instead.

"'S'fine," Jimin shrugs, as he opens it up with a creak and tosses his bag inside it. Not much care is given, because he's already dressed and ready to go. Always early, always punctual, he follows the orders given to him with very few questions asked. "How are you feeling?"

Pretty fucking awful.

"Yeah, fine," Jungkook dismisses, but is painfully aware of how short he's being. He doesn't wanna talk, doesn't wanna give Jimin any ammunition to weaponize against him (not that he would), but knows he's being too aloof. Jimin will start asking questions. "Just wanna get it over and done with, yanno?"

Jimin laughs. "Why such a hurry? Not like it's an in and out job. May as well take our time with it."

Jungkook doesn't reply as he pulls the hoodie over his head, and waltzes up to one of the tattered punching bags.

He begins to bounce on his feet, hands unbound as they tap against the leather. "Just don't understand Jin. Why'd he decide now or never? Couldn't we have time to prep?"

"Beats me," Jimin shrugs, back resting against the cool metal of the lockers. "But we've been prepping for months, Kookie. Been ready since the start of the year, it's months since we said we were gonna do this. Think he's just fed up of waiting."

The younger of the pair grunts a reply as his knuckles slap against the weighted bag.

"Aren't you?" Jimin adds on. "Aren't you tired of waiting, too? Always having to go to that damn gas station. Bet you'll be thankful when this is all over."

He knows he won't be. Knows that Jungkook goes to the gas station far more often than he lets on - has trailed him a couple of times just to confirm.

It hasn't gone unnoticed by Jungkook, mind you. He's never confronted Jimin about it, but it is why he's started parking a little further away from the gas station. Jimin's caught on about that, too.

"Mhmm," Jungkook grunts, not paying any attention to his friend, squaring up to the bag once more.

"Save your energy. Might need it later."

"Better fuckin' not," Jungkook husks beneath his breath as his fist begins to tap against the bag, the sound of flesh against leather saturating the air. Jimin doesn't hear him as he whispers, "listen to me, C. Please just fucking listen."

It's useless. No amount of manifestation on his part will ever make a difference to the choices you make. You're a woman of your own convictions; a bull trapped in a ring who doesn't take too kindly to that stupid fucking red flag. Especially not when Jungkook's been so careless, waving it around, taunting you, encouraging you.

This mess is one of his own making - and he knows this.

He tried to clean it up.

He really did.

But now your bathroom tiles are stained in red dye, and as hard as he may try, his attempts to clean will be as fruitless as that robotic arm that keeps leaking hydraulic fluid no matter how many times it tries to scoop it up.

You had watched a video about it with him in the sanctuary of his bed, deceptively chilly sunlight peeking through ashy clouds, the musk of his early morning embrace keeping you glued to his side. 'Can't help myself' the installation is called, and Jungkook thinks of it now as the rear door of the club opens up.

The rest of the boys file in, Namjoon first and then Jin a few moments later. The air is heavy around them, yet none of them seem to give a fuck. Jungkook thinks they're treating this like a fucking jolly. Why don't they care about what they're about to do? Aren't they worried about what could go wrong?

The answers are no, and not really - the same answers he'd have given a few months ago, too.

He started this all with nothing to lose, everything to gain.

Kinda feels like you handed him an Uno reverse card the moment he stepped foot in that bloody gas station.

"Two cars," Jin begins to instruct as they gather around on the old beat-up sofas in the corner of the room. He's sat on an old oil drum, taking command of the situation like it's what he was born to do. "Kook, you drive the main car, Jimin be ready in back up."

They both nod, Jimin's eyes on their leader, Jungkook's on the floor. His bottom lip is clamped beneath his teeth, which are softly nibbling away like some sort of coping mechanism.

No one notices his state of distress. You would have done, he thinks - but you're not here.

And Jungkook really hopes it stays that way.

There's stoicism in how he stands; a single strand of seaweed still yet to be plucked by the Haenyeo women of Jeju. Wonders if they'll come back for him. Knows they won't. Knows it's too late. He'll be subject to a life of solitude; swaying to a soundtrack that emits at 52 hertz.

So enthralled with his woe is me parade, Jungkook doesn't realise that Jin watches him with intent. He notices that there's something off about his gaze, how he's refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Jungkook's always been a bit of a liar, always been fairly good at it too, but he's never been without his tells; his eyes.

Always his eyes.

Windows to the soul, some say. It scares him. Doesn't let anyone look in them for too long, for fear of them finding out there's something sinister hidden behind them.

"Kang wants this done asap. Elections are coming up and if we don't strike now, it'll be too late," Jin begins to explain, hoping it will stem the questions that he knows Jimin is dying to ask. "We need to get the mayor distracted, off his game. Have him fretting over his family, not thinking about the polls, but equally not able to share his troubles with the public. The mayor will want the situation resolved quickly, which means we can probably put our demand up, ask for a higher price - and all the while, it will give Kang an advantage in the polls."

Jungkook rolls his eyes so hard he can almost hear them turn. He really does hate politics.

"How much are we talking?" Namjoon asks, because the money is all he's really here for. Doesn't like the mayor, doesn't care for politics, doesn't really care for anything. Just money. "For the girl? Was 150mil, wasn't it? 150 million won?"

"Was," Jin nods. "Kang reckons we can go for 180, easy. Maybe even 200."

"180, five-way split," Namjoon begins to muse. "That's, what? 36mil each?"

And it's stupid, because the money used to excite Jungkook. Oh, if only you'd have heard the conversations they've had about what they'd spend it on, how they could blow it all in a single weekend. Yet despite the higher margin, the bigger gain, Jungkook scoffs.

"36 mil. We're doing this shit for 36 fucking mil. You know how long we're risking behind bars for this if it goes tits up? How long they put you away for for abduction? Blackmail? All for the sake of 36 fucking million."

It's on par with what he should be earning annually. Before he met you, before any of this, it's what would have been on his end of year tax return, or near enough. So much has been lost to you; time, energy, brain capacity. Finances are the least of his worries these days.

If he'd have just worked a little bit harder, put in some more hours, he could have kept on top of the repayments he's been making to the loan sharks who circle in the shallow waters of Busan, just waiting to sink their teeth into his father. He could have been back home, been present. Stopped all of this mess, all of this nonsense. He wouldn't know you. Wouldn't feel like his ribs are splintering whenever he thinks of you. In fact, he never would think of you.

Can't imagine it, now. His brain is a spongy mess of badly sung 80's songs and crying cat memes. Corrupted by you; preserved in such a way by his own desire to keep you around. He surrounds the memories of you in salt to keep the demons away, despite the fact it dries out the very essence of him. His brain will shrivel and rot, and all that will be left is you.

"It's not gonna go tits up, though, is it, Kook?" Namjoon pushes back almost immediately.

"It's not," Jin answers for him. "We get in, get the girl, get out. That's the hard part. Everything else is easy."

Jungkook's jaw is tense as he looks at Jin - and then he's looking away again.

"Look, Kook, if you're not up to this, then say so - but you're the one who came to us hell bent on taking her father down. You're the one who came up with this whole plan, you're the fucking mastermind - but we've got Kang on our backs now and we have to deliver. Either you're in," Jin shrugs. "Or you're out. Your choice."

"I'm in," Jungkook almost spits in retaliation. "I'm fucking in."

"Good. So go start the car. We're running late."

He pauses. Bites down on his lip, and nods. Does as he's told because it's the only way he can leave the room without raising suspicions.

He doesn't breathe again until he's in his car.

His engine hums as it basks in midnight lunar light, predatory in the way his headlights stalk out the shadows. He turns them off, thinks he won't need them. The roads are quiet. If he gets pulled over, he'll feign naivety. 'Oh, sorry officer. I'll turn them on.' He doesn't wanna be seen. Doesn't want to announce the way he's coming into your neighbourhood. Doesn't want you looking for him like a lighthouse. Wants you to crash. It'll be easier, that way.

꾹: i can explain everything. just trust me.

꾹: go to yoongis. i need you safe.

꾹: give me a little time. i'll tell you everything, c. please just go to yoongis and let me know you're okay xx

His messages drop in your chat feed. They never deliver.

He's joined in the car by Jin, and then it's go time.

The drive is silent, and Jungkook sort of just blanks it out. Doesn't remember how he got from A to B, but before he knows it, he's on your street. Outside your apartment block. Wishing for a sinkhole to open up and swallow his beloved car, with him still inside it.

He's been told to sit, wait. Cut the radio, keep the engine going. Jin and Namjoon are doing their job. Breaking and entering; stealing the only thing of any value in your shoebox apartment.

The idea of you looking at them, brows contorted, heart nice and bloody on your sleeve, plays on loop in his head. He wonders if you'll comply. Know you'll most likely fight.

Jungkook sits and stews in hushed cacoethes. He desires only you; the most forbidden of all the fruits. There's an ache in his chest, and a heat pricking at his skin. Poison, he thinks. That damn fruit. Damn you.

He needs to see you. Needs to know you're okay. Needs you in his passenger seat as you escape the city, forget it all, leave it all behind.

Ashtray mind and tobacco-stained eyes; there's nothing in his heart but the residue of things that will kill him. His lungs are all covered in the tar of you, too. Not like they matter. He left them with yours. Hasn't been able to breathe since he left your apartment, he doesn't think.

The road ahead is clear.

Dark and wide, it's lit only by street lamps, and the occasional neon light, that will no doubt lead late-night revellers to karaoke rooms. They're all basement level; a passage to the underworld of sin that swells beneath the belly of the metropolis. Impiety laces the streets of a city marred by cult churches, no closer to God than the shit beneath their shoes.

He doesn't believe in God, and certainly doesn't believe in the burning red crosses that sit atop the cult houses. They defile Buk-gu in debauchery; at home with the heathens, obscuring the ordinary.

He does, however, consider asking for forgiveness; repenting his sins. He'd be suited to a confessional; the glare of impure light pouring through the slats, disfiguring the face you've grown to adore, like the shadows of a prison grate.

He hates this place.

Hates why he's here, hates why he's stayed, and - funnily enough - hates that there's no longer any reason for him to stay. Not once his business is done.

He wonders if this could have played out differently. Maybe if he'd have been honest with you from the start, it wouldn't have come to this. You could have played along, maybe. Did what was asked of you willingly.

The door opens with a rough crack, far too much force being put on its old hinges. "Woah, woah- careful," he shrieks, drawn away from thoughts of you for a split second.

That is, until, he sees the look on Jin's face.

It's unfamiliar. Teeth bared. Snarling, almost. Eyes hard, jaw tense.

Oh, fuck.

"Drive," Jin hisses. "Fucking drive."

But he doesn't.

And he won't.

Not until he knows you're okay.

"The girl?"

"Don't act fucking dumb, Jungkook," Jin spits as he slams the door shut, imprisoning them both.

"I don't know wha-"

"Driv-"

"Where's the girl?" Jungkook snarls right back.

"Not fuckin' there!"

This is bad, he thinks. Real fucking bad.

But then he's overwhelmed with how fucking good it feels. You weren't there. You listened to him. You trusted him. He could laugh. Could cry. Might do both.

Not yet, though. He's still wearing his lies well. They sit atop the crown of his skull with pride. Liar of the year, 2022. Jeon Jungkook.

"Why isn't she there, huh?" Jin barks, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth. And then he's shouting. Shouting so loud that the whole fucking neighbourhood will wake up. "Again? Every fucking time Jungkook, she's just never where you say she will be. But you know what is where she should be? Huh? A bathroom stained in red fucking hair dye. Flannel shirts we both know damn well belong to you. Tell me, Kook, why didn't you want us to do it tonight, huh? Scared we'd catch you two at it?"

"You've lost your fucking mind, Jin. I don't know the ins and outs of her life."

"Oh, but on the contrary," Jin scathes as he slaps a receipt on the dash. It's branded. Jungkook thought he'd left it in the restaurant; that little pizza place in Busan. Hadn't realised you squirrelled away momentoes like that. Is still learning about you, apparently.

It's Jungkook's card number along the bottom of it. Jin won't know that.

But he's got eyes. Can read. Your handwriting adorns the top corner, right above the date and location. Jungkook feels sick.

Dinner with JK <3

"No?" Jin presses. "So you don't know who JK is? Don't know why the fuck she was in Busan when you were? Don't know why she's drawing fucking hearts next to his initials, huh? Somethings not adding up, JK."

"I've never been good at maths," Jungkook retorts, tone flat.

"You ain't no good at lying, either," Jin growls, crumpling the receipt and throwing it at Jungkook. It hits his chest, right where his heart used to be. Sinking back into the passenger seat, Jin curses. Shakes his head. Sighs.

"Just fucking drive, Jungkook. Just fuckin' drive."

────────────

Daegu tarmac is always a little harder in the winter. Jungkook prefers it, for there's less pull against his wheels as he hurtles down the streets.

He's vaguely aware of the fact he needs to check the wear on the inner treads of his tyres. They're pulling even less than usual, and he knows that he needs to adjust the tracking, but it's been the last thing on his mind lately.

Jin instructs him in the direction of the boxing club, and Jungkook almost refuses. Almost takes a left by the bridge to bomb up towards Palgongsan. He wants to see the city. Escape it. Look down on it; on you. Keep watch. Keep you safe.

It's an impossible task though, so he does as he's told - and quickly, too. He runs not one, but two reds. The streets are clear, marred by darkness of a midnight sky, so he's not concerned about getting caught - and if anything, it would probably do him a favour.

A night behind bars would be preferable to a night in the ring with Namjoon.

He's childish, and a grade-A dick when he wants to be, but Jungkook's no stranger to the way it feels when Namjoon's knuckles kiss his cheek.

A fight has been brewing ever since the last, Namjoon displeased with how Jin intervened, but Jungkook has fucked it now.

Even Jin is pissed at him - and rightly so. He's done exactly what he's been accused of.

He's betrayed them.

Been disloyal. Abused their trust.

Done things he said he never would.

"We in this?"

"In this shit for life."

Seems stupid now when Jungkook replays the memories back. He never should have promised the rest of his life. It was never feasible. He, himself, had seen how quickly life could change within the blink of an eye; but more importantly, how the change could be so slow, so gradual that he didn't even notice until it was too late.

It had happened with his mother; her illness slowly but surely taking hold until she was a shadow of herself. It had happened with his ex; her withdrawal from him so incremental that he didn't even notice the evenings she spent with Taehyung instead of him.

More recently, it's happened with you.

He should have known better. Hell, he did know better. Knew what would happen if he let himself get a little bit too comfortable.

There was a reason why he's been single for so long; why he never lets anyone get too close.

See, Jeon Jungkook is just as romantic as he always has been.

His heart has been broken, and misery has ravaged his veins, but he still believes that there's a life out there for him that doesn't involve any of those things. He believes that he could have a happy ending.

And it's foolish.

Foolish because nobody gets one of those. Foolish because people like him certainly don't.

Foolish because only fools fall - and lord knows he's been in the gutter ever since he met you.

It wasn't one of those first-sights, heart-palpitations, heavy-breathing types of situation, but it was something more than nothing - and when you're so used to drought, even the slightest spark can light the brightest fires. You had surged through him like a wild blaze, burning deep red, akin to the dye that stains his hair.

And now his bones are charred; irrevocably scarred by a girl who only ever sought to heal him.

So yeah, maybe he was a fool, but so were you for ever thinking he could be healed in the first fuckin' place.

Jungkook barely has the chance to shut his car off before Jin barks at him to get inside. Says that he's fucking lucky Joon didn't catch up with them.

He scoffs a laugh. "I'm lucky? I'm lucky? Joon's fucking lucky I haven't sparked him out before now. He's been on his high horse for far too fucking long."

"Yeah, and not without reason, Kook. The fuck have you been playing at, huh?" Jin asks, with genuine bewilderment, once they're inside Old Man Kang's boxing club. The air is cold, but the tension between the two men, who were once more like brothers, is even more so.

If Jungkook were to answer honestly, he'd say he doesn't know. Would probably cry a little bit, too. Maybe a lot. He's not really sure at this point.

He's not sure of anything. Not sure about his loyalties, about his motives. Not even how he feels about you.

The only thing Jungkook is sure of, is that Namjoon is going to be gunning for blood the second he storms through the door, and that he'd really rather not be here when it happens.

"I can fix this. Let me go and look for her, alrigh-"

"No."

"If anyone is gonna fin-"

"You've done enough, Kook."

"Jin, please-"

"Enough."

"But I-"

"You've done enough," he repeats firmly now, his eyes unable to grace Jungkook with mercy. He can't fucking look at him. Not after everything; not after all of it. They'd planned this together. Been in this shit together. A team. They had always had the same goals, the same motivations, and Jungkook had just thrown it all to the wayside.

He's never cared much for 'bros before hoes,' or any of that bullshit, but Jin thought there was an understanding between them. A common goal. Common ground.

Thought their friendship went beyond business.

He's known the kid for years. Watched him grow. Practically raised him after his dad couldn't afford to feed them anymore, his mother's life savings spaffed at the bookies every Sunday, then every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday... He'd been Jungkook's parent when the poor kid may as well have lost both.

And this is how he repays him?

Jungkook tenses his jaw. Presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Nods. Curses as he lashes out at the pole marking the corner of the boxing ring. Yells a little as his bare fist cracks against the padded wood.

Jin just walks to the sofas in the corner of the room. Sinks into one of them, defeated. There's no point in arguing, not right now. Not while his head is all fucked up and his vision is marred by a shade of red that matches Jungkook's hair.

The steel of the fire exit door screeches as it scrapes against the pavement, too heavy for the hinges it's on. An easy fix which none of them have gotten round to doing yet. Too busy. Minds have been elsewhere - but Namjoon's mind is only on one thing as he hurtles toward Jungkook.

"You mother fucker," Namjoon spits, his fists rough as they grab onto the neckline of Jungkook's shirt. The friction burns a little, but nothing really hurts Jungkook. Not when it already feels like his heart has been cut straight from his chest with a craft knife.

He wants to hurt, though. Wants physical pain to match his mental torment.

"Joon," Jimin calls from the entryway, trying to draw him back, but it's futile. Bad blood needs to be drained in order to keep a body healthy, after all - and this band of brothers is dying. They need something - anything - to replenish their health.

It's a shame that Jungkook's on a suicide mission, really.

"Nah," Jungkook smirks, but his eyes are void of any humour. In fact, he's deadly serious as he says, "it was your sister I fucked, remember?"

He's barely finished mocking his former friend before a fist meets his face. The crack of Namjoon's knuckles against his skin echoes into the room, reverberating from wall to wall, like a chilling laugh sounding from the shadows.

"Is that all you've got?" Jungkook laughs, despite the fact a small red bead is forming on his bottom lip. It swells and drips, like the scarlet water that ran from his hair earlier that afternoon. He knows he shouldn't keep going, but he doesn't really care. Namjoon has a short fuse, and Jungkook feels like blowing up. "Even Naejeon liked it rougher than that."

For all his stupidity, the boy's got a sharp tongue about him. Knows just the right thing to say to get what he wants - this time, it's another punch to his face. His cheek. Gonna bruise like a fuckin' bitch.

Namjoon still has a grip on his collar and pushes him now, until his legs are pressed against the base of the ring, back against the ropes.

"Say another fucking word about my sister and I'll rip your fucking tongue out."

Jungkook laughs. Namjoon just makes it so fucking easy.

"Don't be like that, Joonie," he coos, the smile on his face borderline psychotic. "Naejeon reckons it's the only thing that ever made her cum."

When Namjoon punches him this time, he doesn't give Jungkook the chance to interrupt with any more quick remarks about his little sister. He was pissed at Jungkook for shagging her, pissed at Jungkook for ghosting her, but everything Jungkook's done since then only serves to make it so much worse.

"You," he spits, only pausing his words to land another punch against Jungkook's cheek. "Stupid" - another punch - "fucking" - again - "twat."

He grabs Jungkook's collar with both of his hands now, forcing him to stand up straight, face pink from Namjoon's knuckles smearing his blood all over it.

"You couldn't keep your dick in your pants, could you? First my fucking sister and then that fucking whore? Her of all people?"

Jungkook is laughing again. Sniffs back the blood dripping from his nose. Jin is sitting with his head in his hands, pretending like it isn't happening. Jimin can't take his eyes off it. It's like a car crash; a head-on collision between two boy racers, who always take it too fucking far.

"I can give you a comparison if you like?"

"Kookie-" Jimin tries to interject, but is silenced by Namjoon who snaps his head around to look at the most innocent of the bunch.

"Nah," Namjoon laughs. "Let him talk. Let him spew his bullshit."

And then he faces Jungkook again. Gets closer. Gets real close. Close enough that Jungkook can smell the cigarette he smoked half an hour ago.

His breath is hot against Jungkook's skin. Intrusive. Unwelcome.

Namjoon knows this. Knows that Jungkook hates people breathing on him. Hates it so much that Namjoon used to sneak up on him and breathe on his neck, specifically to get a reaction out of him. Used to find it funny.

He doesn't know that Jungkook never hated your soft sighs against his skin. Not against the crook of his neck during early morning embraces, not into his lips when the build of your climax got so intense that you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore. He doesn't know that Jungkook would do anything to hear the way you breathe as you sleep right about now; shallow and a little stuttered. His favourite sound. His very own metronome.

Namjoon doesn't know you were different. Wouldn't really matter even if he did know. Wouldn't change a single damn thing about the betrayal he feels. In his eyes, it's just one thing after a-fucking-nother with Jungkook. Kid's a liability.

"How long you been fucking her, huh?" Namjoon speaks quietly, breath warm against Jungkook's ear. It's hushed enough that none of the others can hear. Probably for the best. "How long have you been sinking your cock into your mother's corpse?"

"My mother's corpse?" Jungkook almost chokes, legitimately in a state of shock over what's just left Namjoon's mouth. It's probably worse than the stench of his ashtray breath.

"What?" He laughs. It's bitter. "Her daddy's the reason your mum's dead, isn't she? She's the reason. So you're fucking your dead mum by proxy, aren't you? There'd be no corpse if it wasn't for her."

It's good. Jungkook's gotta hand it to him. It's pretty fucking savage. He's not sure of the legitimacy of such a claim, not sure it makes any fucking sense, but the shock value? Yeah, Namjoon has him stumped.

Part of him knows he shouldn't bite. Part of him knows that Namjoon is only after a fight.

In fact, all of him knows this - but Namjoon's breath is all clammy on his cheek, and it makes his skin crawl in a way that rivals nails on a blackboard.

He doesn't wanna react. Doesn't wanna lash out. Doesn't wanna make this a fair fight, but he can't fucking help it as his head lunges forward, smashing against Namjoon's nose with a crack.

"Kook," Jimin tries again, sterner this time, but Jin shakes his head and tells him, 'let the kids have their squabble.'

"This has nothing to do with my mother," Jungkook spits as he stands up straighter now, taller.

"Oh, but on the contrary," Namjoon says, his posture slightly cowered from the impact of Jungkook's skull cracking against his own. He's feeling for blood with the back of his hand, eyes narrow. "It has everything to do with your mother. She's the reason you're here. She's the reason you wanted to take that bitch out in the first fuckin' place."

The worst part is he's right. Jungkook knows he's right.

"So?" He says before he spits, crimson phlegm hitting the concrete floor with a slap, red with blood from the inside of his cheek. "So what? So what if I fucked her?"

Namjoon's not even really concerned about the fact Jungkook's been fucking you.

If Jungkook had fucked you and not let it sway his judgement, Namjoon probably would have congratulated him for getting his dick wet and the job done well. Issue is, Jungkook started fucking with you with heart and thinking with his dick.

"Coulda fucked any whore in the city. I know you know where to find them."

"True. Did find your sister, didn't I?"

It's not Jungkook's finest hour. It's not been his finest few months, if he's being realistic - except for the fact it has been. The time he's spent with you, at least.

The training sessions he'd cram between leaving you in his bed and heading to work were always his best.

The days at work when he knew he'd be heading to your gas station afterwards were always his most productive. His area manager had been eyeing him up for a fucking promotion. His good, honest work is better because of you.

He doesn't understand why, he doesn't understand how - he just knows if he hadn't constantly had this huge guilt weighing down on him constantly, that maybe he'd have known what happiness felt like again.

He hates the circumstances that lead him to you. Hates the reality of your relationship. Hates that he's pretty sure you don't even have one, now.

But he loves that he met you. Loves that he got to experience you. Loves that you gave him hope where he'd only ever seen hardship.

It's useless now, of course. Down the fucking drain. Should have trained to be a plumber instead, he thinks. Maybe he'd have been able to salvage things.

He's an electrician though, and all he's done is keep you in the dark, until he blinded you with a spotlight. He's short-circuted everything now. Fried the motherboard. Destroyed everything you once were together. He knows there's no salvaging it.

But he's also questioning if there was ever anything there to begin with. Questions whether or not you really liked him, or just the way you perceived him - but it was no different from any normal scenario. No one shows their bad cards first. You're drawn in by the best, and learn to adore the worst, too.

For a long time, you thought that his worst card was the fact he used a 2-in-1 shampoo and shower gel. Used to tease him about it.

And now he's thinking of the way you laugh and he wants to fucking cry.

Joon can see it. See the shift behind Jungkook's eyes. Thinks he's won. Pushes Jungkook away from him. Spits on the ground. Walks away.

"You're pathetic, Jeon. Good for nothing waste of fuckin' sperm. Thank fuck you ghosted Naejeon. Thank fuck. Could think of nothing worse than sharing a bloodline with a coward like you."

Jimin breathes for the first time in what feels like hours, hoping that this is it. It's done now. Jin remains as he was, but reclines into the sofa as Namjoon saunters to meet him. He throws himself down into a chair and sighs.

"What now, boss?"

Good fucking question, Jin thinks. The plan is fucked. Jungkook knows there's no way it can be rectified. You know too much now. Know what to expect, even if not when to expect it. You don't know his motives, you just know they're not as pure as you once thought. Know that it's safer to hate him.

He wonders if you already do.

He turns to face the ring; holds on to the ropes, lets his body lean forward, heaving a little. All of this feels like a nightmare. The kind that loop, and replay again and again until insanity is the only logical explanation.

But maybe he is insane.

Insane for thinking that this could ever work. Insane for thinking that maybe he'd be able to mastermind a plan in which everyone got a happy ending. Insane for letting you into his home, insane for letting you into his sheets, insane for letting you into a part of his brain reserved for memories of his family before it all went wrong.

You're there now, though. It's permanent. The way you make him feel is something he'll never be able to shake, and he knows damn well that he's ruined for the rest of his life.

"Without the girl, we have nothing," Jin sighs. "The girl was our meal ticket. We needed her to get the Mayor's attention. Need her to make this whole thing work. Without her, there's no leverage. Nothing to work with."

"Hear that, Kook? We've got nothing," Namjoon taunts. "A little bit of sour pussy worth it, huh? Maybe I should just fuck her. See what all the hype is about. See if it's worth it. How'd she like it, huh? She like it rough?"

"Can the pair of you just stop?" Jimin snaps now. "You're like a pair of twelve-year-olds."

Namjoon ignores him. Sinks further into the tattered leather chair. Crosses his legs, and hooks an ankle upon his knee. Smirks.

"Bet she's a dumb slut with a rack like that," he says instead. "Her titwanks must be pretty fucking good, right?"

He knows - much to Jungkook's dismay - that Jungkook is a tittie guy. They've had enough conversations about it. Vulgar shit. Objectifying. Laddish banter, that was really just juvenile shit they both knew better than to say.

"That's what got you, isn't it, Kook?" Namjoon laughs. "Her tits? Your mommy issues are showing."

Jungkook's blood is burning as red as his hair, but he tries not to let it show.

"Not really," Jungkook lies, and they all fuckin' know it. "Her tits were good, but I can live without them. I mean, Naejeon's flat as a fuckin' pancake - and I fucked her for long enough, didn't I? Might see if she's free later, actually."

It's like they're playing a game of table football, each one of them trying to get one up on the other. It's Namjoon's turn, now.

"You never answered, Kook. How does she like it? Is she the kind of bitch that likes it rough? Likes it when you make them cry? She'd be good at that, I reckon. Crying. How long do you think it would take to get her crying?"

The thought of it makes Jungkook sick. Makes him want to cry. He's still leaning against the ropes, but it's mainly to stop him from falling down. His head feels like it's gonna fucking cave in.

"I dunno man," Jungkook shrugs, but he's a little breathless. Knows he sounds weak. Knows he has to go extra hard with the next insult flung Namjoon's way. "Given how tight your sister was, how much I had to stretch her little pussy out-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"I'm guessing that size runs in the family - so I don't imagine you've got much to make CC cry with, to be honest."

He says it before he realises - but the rest of them do. Notice it immediately.

"Sorry, who?"

"The fuck did you just call her?"

There's silence. Jungkook doesn't speak. Not till the question is repeated, this time by their leader. Jin's voice is stern as he asks, "What did you call her, Jungkook?"

"Nothin'. Doesn't matter. Just a dumb fuckin' nickname."

"A nickname?"

"Yeah, a dumb one. What does it matter?"

"How deep does it run?" Jin asks, genuinely concerned for Jungkook. This is so much worse than just hooking up. "This little affair you've been having? How fuckin' deep does it go?"

"Doesn't. Doesn't run deep, doesn't run anywhere. It's nothing," he spits. "She's nothing."

Saying it out loud makes him feel like a piece of shit.

You're everything.

"I'm sure she finds the lying all very endearing, Kook, but cut it out," Jin scolds him. "We're in this together. Just be fuckin' honest with us. We know you told her to run. You chose her over us. The least you can do is tell us how invested you are. How invested she was. Let us know what we're dealing with, here."

"Can't invest in something that you know will never give you a return," Jungkook says as if that makes a difference. He always knew the pair of you were doomed.

"She's not a financial investment," Jin debates. "And yeah, you can."

"But she is a financial investment."

"Joon. Not now."

"Well, I mean, she was," Namjoon adds a little mindlessly. "She isn't now. Golden balls has screwed it all up for us."

"I haven't."

Namjoon laughs. Looks at Jungkook as if he knows every fib he's ever told. Perceptive and well aware of Jungkook's tendency to tell white lies, there's no fooling him.

"You've been shafting the plans for months," Namjoon says with certainty. "The first raid? Tell me that you didn't have anything to do with it."

But he can't. And he doesn't want to lie anymore, so he remains silent.

"See, I told you," Namjoon nearly fucking yells. He'd gotten into much trouble for picking a fight with Jungkook after the raid, only to go and be proven right. "I fucking told you. You all told me I was overreacting but I fucking knew it."

His rant is ignored as the rest of them process what's been divulged by Jungkook.

"Ever since then?" Jimin asks quietly. His tenderness is noticed. Appreciated.

And so Jungkook nods. "Didn't know her back then. Not really. I just... I was getting cold feet. I'd never really understood that there was another human on the other end of the plan, yanno? I didn't want us to do something we couldn't take back. She could have been useful to us."

"Not sure Jungkook's personal cum-dump would have been useful to 'us' as a collective - unless you were planning on sharing?"

"Namjoon, will you ever just shut the fuck up?"

Jungkook ignores it. He knows Namjoon is just trying to get a rise out of him at this point. His face is aching enough now. They've had their fun.

None of them feel aggression towards him anymore. Not really.

They're scared, more than anything, knowing they have Kang to answer to if they don't deliver on their promise, and none of them enjoy the prospect of that too much.

"Things spiralled. I didn't mean for them to-"

"Ah, but you never do, do you?" Namjoon interrupts, but again, Jungkook ignores it.

"She wasn't there on the night of the raid, 'cause I was standing her up on a date downtown. Thought I'd try and figure some other plan out, but when I saw her next I panicked. Was trying to keep her on side."

He's downplaying it, granted. They're all vaguely aware they aren't getting the whole truth, but a half-truth is better than none at all.

"We ended up going out a week or so later. Both drank a little too much and - well, I mean, I don't need to teach you about the birds and the bees, do I? Pretty sure you know how the rest of it goes." There's a murmur amongst the boys, collectively agreeing not to ask more. "Things got out of hand. I panicked. I didn't know what to do."

"It's not an excuse," Jin says. "No fucking excuse at all, Kook. Your panic has fucked us all over. I hope you know how to fix this fuckin' mess, 'cause Kang is gonna have our balls for breakfast if we don't deliver. We signed a contract."

"Not exactly legally binding, is it?"

"Since when has anything Kang's ever done been in keeping with the law?" Jin asks, but the question is rhetorical. They all know the answer.

The cash counting machines in the back office, and the hostess noraebangs are a dead giveaway. Old Man Kang is bad news. Such bad news that Jin even fears having this discussion in the boxing club... just in case.

"Go home. I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Don't even wanna look at any of you, right now," Jin almost laughs, but they know he isn't actually joking. He's deadly serious. "We'll meet at mine tomorrow. I don't want Kang getting wind of this. Kook, clean up your blood, then get gone. Jimin, clear away the chair for the girl. Won't be needing it now. Joon, just get gone. I'll see you tomorrow. 9 am sharp. We'll figure it out."

He looks at Jungkook, and shakes his head. What a fucking mess that boy has made.

"We'll figure it out," he repeats, before adding, "together."

They all do as they're told. Jungkook is the last to leave, his hands a little stained in his own blood by the time he's done. He ignores the tightness of the skin on his palms as he drives, heading in the direction of home.

Jungkook's apartment is cold. He'd left the bathroom door open before leaving for Busan, and winter wind howls into the apartment as soon as he steps foot through the door. He doesn't close it. Just heads into his bedroom-turned-living area, flicks on the ondol and falls face-first into his bed.

He regrets it as soon as he picks up the scent of you on his sheets. You've not slept in them for the best part of a week, and yet you're still there. It's too late to put a washload on - his neighbour will bang on the ceiling with the handle of her broom again like she did the last time you'd had morning sex - but he can't stay like this. Can't stay suffocated by you.

He sits up. Sniff back a sob, and kicks off his shoes. "Stupid fucking prick," he laments, then catches sight of himself in his mirror. Sees his hair. It fucking stings. So fucking red. Looks like a fresh wound. He supposes it is; the remnants of his heart that were torn from his chest the second your eyes turned hard.

It had been dark in your room, but he could see the lights of your kitchen reflect with more variance as water began to grace your lashline. He'd made you cry and he couldn't even so much as give you a fucking hug to make it any better.

There's no enthusiasm in his steps as he skulks toward his bathroom. Doesn't bother stripping his clothes off. Just flicks the light on, twists the tap and sits on the floor as the shower chokes into action. The water is freezing as he sits, legs pulled up to his chest, arms hugging around his knees.

Slowly but surely it warms up, even if his heart doesn't. He doesn't even know what his aim is. Perhaps he's trying to recreate the last place he felt happiness - back in your shower, with you - or maybe he's hoping the water will wash away the remnants of you from his hair.

He's a warning light; a red flag that screams 'stay away.' He wishes he could. Would rather be with anyone but himself right now.

But there's a comfort to be found in the fact that he knows you're a walking red flag, too.

Eventually, he stands. Discards his clothes - he'll sort them in the morning - and rinses his hair through. His shampoo bubbles up all pretty and pink, but it isn't enough to reverse what he's done. Your relationship has stained him for all to see.

He deliberately avoids looking in the toothbrush holder. Doesn't want to see your one. Instead, he looks in the mirror as he reaches for his brush - it's thicker than yours, battery-powered, so it's easy to distinguish from touch alone.

It's as he's rummaging around that he notices an inconsistency in his steamed-up mirror.

It's in the bottom left-hand corner, discreet and hidden unless you know where to find it: a thin outline in the shape of a heart.

Jungkook didn't put it there, and there's only one girl who he's ever let stay long enough for a shower to be needed.

He has to grip the basin of his sink to stop himself from keeling over. Thinks he'll be sick. Actually gags a little. Never been so close to it without actually following through.

It's hard to tell what's making him feel this way. The guilt? The hurt? He's not sure. All he knows is that he can't fucking breathe properly. His shower is still pounding down on his spine as he hunches over, painful as the water slaps against his skin. He doesn't realise, but it's tender because your scratch marks are still running down it.

You're in his skin. In his head, his hair, his bed. You're still here, and he can't fucking shake you. You're haunting him. Taunting him.

Except for the fact you're really not. You're doing the opposite. You've gone ghost, yes, but entirely in the opposite direction. Radio silence.

He tries sending a message through to your chat feed, but it remains undelivered. He calls - this number is unavailable - and he calls - this number is unavailable - and he calls and calls and calls - this number in una- this number is- this nu- until he gets so frustrated he throws his phone across the room. Hears a crack. Knows he's fucked his screen. Just another thing to hate himself for.

He considers going to Yoongi's. Gets dressed, puts a coat on. His hair is still damp. He doesn't care. Gets in his car. Drives in fucking laps around the city. Thinks he sees you twice - doesn't see you a single time.

And he won't.

Jeon Jungkook had the luxury of finding you once. You're never gonna give him that again.

See when you left your apartment that evening, you did it on your terms. You packed your bag with the essentials: documents - some forged, some not -, money, and the hard drive that has everything your father wouldn't want in the hands of the wrong people. Up until now, you've been the wrong hands - but it seems like there are far filthier hands in search of it now.

You upturned a few items, made your life look as simple as you could; just a regular girl who had fallen for a no-good piece of shit. You pinned up a few photos. Scribbled some dumb nostalgic shit on a receipt.

And as you sit in the waiting room of the first terminal of Daegu Airport, you smile.

You imagine all the ways that little note could fuck him up. Wonder if they'll notice the shirts of his you left out, but neglect to think about the one you're still wearing. The blue one. Your favourite. Smells like him.

There's no time to dwell on it, mind you. A bell chimes. It's not the one in your stomach - you may as well have swallowed cement with how still it is, now. The bell echoes, and then a voice sounds. "This is the boarding call for flight 711 to Jeju. Please have your passport and boarding pass ready for inspection at gate 3. Flight 711 for Jeju, at gate 3. Thank you."

You sigh. Pretend like you can't smell the scent of his aftershave as you hook your bag over your shoulder, and head in the direction of gate 3. Doesn't really matter where you're going. All that matters is that you are going - and that Jungkook will have no fucking clue where to find you.

And yet part of you hopes he'll show up. Beg you not to board that flight. Tell you he's sorry, and that it's all a huge misunderstanding. Will buy a ticket, fly with you. Stay with you. Make things right on an island that's done no harm to either one of you. Not like the city you're leaving behind.

It's a hope you hold onto, even as you board. Even as the cabin crew begin safety demonstrations. Even as you begin to hurtle down the runway.

Jungkook's not a mind reader though, and so he sits, body all hunched up and crooked by your apartment door, waiting for you to come home. He's aware it's a little creepy. Knows you won't be happy to see him - but he doesn't want to fucking stalk you. He just wants to know you're safe. Wants this nightmare to be over.

He's woken the next morning, back in agony from his position, by the ajumma who lives across the hallway. He asks if she's seen you. She tells him it's none of his business, and to get gone.

Good old Eunhee. You've always liked her. She's always hated your boyfriends. It's a win-win.

Jungkook leaves his number with Eunhee, but she bins it as soon as she's inside her apartment. She knows if you want to call Jungkook, you will. She's old enough to know what men are like. Wise enough to know he's probably been up to no good. The ones who grovel always have been.

He walks home, just so he has an excuse to walk back to your area later to pick up his car. Forgets he's supposed to be at Jin's for 9 until Namjoon drives past him.

He expects Namjoon to hurtle off, but to his surprise, he pulls over. Tells Jungkook to get in. Doesn't speak to him the entire way there, but still gets him there ahead of schedule.

There are three cars outside Jin's apartment by the time they arrive. Jin's sleek Merc, Jimin's red Mx5, and a car that Jungkook hadn't expected to see: a Rolls Royce. Blacked out. De-badged. Discreet, but screaming importance. The plates are illegal. Decoys. The kinda shit used by criminals - which is fitting, Jungkook supposes.

"Shitting hell," Namjoon hisses beneath his breath as he pulls his keys from the ignition. "Looks like we've got a date with the Devil himself."

Jungkook laughs. "Don't think the Devil wears Cuban heels."

Namjoon smiles, too. Knows smiling won't be an option once they're inside Jin's apartment.

"C'mon," he says as he encourages Jungkook out of the car. Neither of them really wants to go, but both know their arrival will have been noted. Any slackness will have to be accounted for. Better men have lost fingers for less than tardiness. It's not worth the aggro. "Time to go face the wrath of Old Man Kang."

────────────

When Jin arrives at the boxing club that evening, Jungkook's skin is already glistening beneath the frosty glow of exposed lightbulbs. They're LED, providing no warmth to the shell of a room he's in - but Jungkook's been going at it for so long - been going at it so hard - that steam wafts from his body.

There's something stern in the way Jin is looking at him, as if he's willing for him to slow down.

Jungkook doesn't even so much as look in Jin's direction. His gaze is wasted, much like all of Jungkook's efforts of the past few months.

If he's being honest, Jin is surprised to see him at the club. He hadn't expected to see the kid for at least a day or two after Jungkook had stormed out of his place earlier that morning.

With a face of thunder, jaw tense, his jugular vein throbbing beneath his honey skin, he'd been royally pissed.

Credit where it was due, Jungkook had just about managed to hold it together for long enough to see Old Man Kang out the door - but only just.

He'd sat as quiet as a broken record player in Jin's apartment, leg jittering, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. Had barely even looked at their boss. Didn't want to. Didn't trust his misplaced anger.

See, Jungkook has a thing for shifting blame; everything is always someone else's fault. Him losing you? Well, it couldn't possibly be his fault. Had to be Kang's. After all, he was the one who'd sent Jungkook on the first stakeout of GS25.

Maybe not the second one, though. That was all Jungkook's doing. As was the third, and the fourth, and - well, I mean, Kang certainly hadn't told Jungkook to ask you out on a date, the silly cunt. Definitely never told him to put his cock in you, either.

He'd got himself into this mess all by himself.

Didn't like that admission, though, so he stayed silently furious with Kang instead.

Which worked out in his favour, actually. Being preemptively pissed at the stupid old fucker meant that Jungkook's visible annoyance was minimal as Kang dropped a fucking bomb on them at Jin's dinner table.

"Forget about the girl for now. There's too much heat around her. That coworker of hers... he knows too much. You let him know too much. The second she's gone, he'll be pointing fingers - and if they land on you? They'll land on the boxing club too, and whose name is printed above the door? Mine. Too much risk."

Kang had been oblivious to the glances being thrown Jungkook's way - but of course he had been.

Again, Kang had nothing to do with Jungkook's quite frankly ridiculous choices. There really was no one to blame but himself.

And that's the worst part of it all: Jungkook knows this.

It doesn't stop the anger from fermenting in his chest though, so fucking torn apart by the fact that if everyone had just listened to him, just given him a little more time, he could have fixed things.

If Jin hadn't been so headstrong - had just given Jungkook one more fucking day - then he could have kept you. Maybe not forever, but for a little bit longer.

And there he goes again, shifting the blame.

The reality of it being his own mistake, his own failures, is too much for him to come to terms with. He'll deal with eventually, but for now, he needs to forget it all. Forget you exist. Forget the look in your eyes when you realised he'd been playing you like a fucking fiddle. Forget the anger that came when you snapped the strings before he could.

He thinks he's only ever felt sorrow once in his life, and it was what dragged him all the way to Daegu in the first place.

He's not sure that he would classify the way he feels right now as sorrow.

It's too strong of a word to associate with such a silly circumstance.

His heart isn't broken. He wasn't in love with you, for christ's sake. Was just fucking you a little too well. Forgot himself in the moments that he found solace in you; forgot who he was, what he was supposed to do.

This is all on him.

And that's what upsets him so much. He's usually good at this.

If his tryst with Namjoon's little sister had taught him anything, it was that it's easy to not care. It's easy to fuck around with the same person for an extended period of time and not catch feelings. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.

Was as easy as learning ABC's - except when it came to you, Jungkook found himself stumbling, mixing all the letters together, getting things all jumbled up. He was putting letters in the wrong order, but kept 'U' and 'I' side by side - 'cause even though he knows it's wrong, he likes the way it looks. Likes them together.

"Slow down, Kook." Jin's voice is stern as it bellows across the hollow room. "You'll tear something."

Beneath his breath, Jungkook mutters. "Good. Hope I fuckin' do."

"Heard that."

"Don't give a fuck."

He continues to spar against himself, the only enemy his own mind. There was no winning in this match, much like there was no winning in the life he'd chosen to live over the past couple of months.

"She's just a girl, Kook. There'll be others."

The statement hangs in the air like a rancid stench; foul and lingering for far too long.

Jungkook stops bouncing. Slumps his shoulders. Lets his gloved hands hang gamely by his hips. His laboured breaths fill the silence, but he wishes they wouldn't. Thinks it would preferable if he wasn't breathing altogether.

"I know that," he eventually says, rolling his head to his left shoulder and then his right. He bounces again. Taps his glove against the punching bag once, twice, then hits it with far more aggression than is really necessary. "Don't give a fuck about that. Don't give a fuck about her."

Jin wishes he wouldn't lie. There's no need to. The way Jungkook feels about you is stained into his fucking hair. It's not like it's black, or blue, or anything that could be explained away: it's fucking red.

Red like the blood that keeps him alive, and red like the heart that pumps a little faster whenever you're close by.

Red like the stop signs he charges through whenever he's in a rush to get to you, and red like the car you love to hate.

Red like your cheeks when you've had too much to drink, and red like the wires he'd cut on the night he raided the gas station, to stop the silent alarm from tripping.

Red like the sauce of the dakgalbi he'd shared with you on the first night you'd slept together, and red like his ears when his brother had asked if he was seeing someone new during the trip to Busan.

"You seem... I don't know. You seem a lot like the Jungkook we used to know. Jungkook before everything happened. It's nice. That's all."

He's covered in red, head to toe and - because he doesn't like to ever blame himself - it's all because of you.

It's funny, 'cause reds always been your least favourite colour.

You like green best. Wear black like it's a religion. Always thought that if Jungkook was a colour, he'd be dark brown.

The colour of his eyes, americanos on ice - whisky, too. The indulgence of a chocolate cake, the stability of a thick bonsai trunk. The fur of the dog you'd petted together on Dadaepo beach, and the box of dye you're eyeing up in an Olive Young on an island you didn't know.

And more importantly, an island that doesn't know you.

You put the box back in place, and reach for black instead. The last thing you need is to be reminded of him every single time you look in the mirror.

He doesn't know this, though.

Whenever he thinks of you in the months that follows your departure from Daegu - which is pretty fucking often - he remembers it as it was.

He has intrusive thoughts of your hair, how pretty and red it was, and how he'd never had the chance to live out that little fantasy with you; the one where you'd walk down the street, hand in hand, and people would know.

"Cute."

"Their hair! They must be so in love."

"I wish my boyfriend would do stuff like that with me."

And, in Jungkook's delusions, you'd laugh about it, for you still wouldn't actually be a couple. You'd revel in the fact other people assumed you were, though. There'd be no reason for your lack of commitment; just the excitement of the unknown. The thrill of the chase.

One day though, inevitably, he thought commitment would come.

It'd be in your shared loft apartment, a dog sleeping at the foot of your bed, your initial tattooed on his ring finger after a bet gone wrong. He still wouldn't have asked you to be his girlfriend, but he'd press a kiss against your hair and say 'we should get married.'

You'd be in a courthouse by the end of the week, him in a blazer that didn't really fit him anymore, you in a dress picked up from a vintage store downtown. You'd look beautiful in white, he's sure, but when he pictures it, you're in champagne. Rings are foregone - he imagines there'd be a wait on your smoky quartz stone, due to the short notice of your nuptials - but Hairbo rings would be used in their place.

They'd be worn for the entire drive back to the hotel - the one in Busan where he'd decided that you were 'it' for him - and then he'd eat them off as some haphazard form of foreplay.

Not that he's given it much thought.

Barely even gave thoughts of you the time of day after you left.

He doesn't notice when two days ticks into two weeks.

Doesn't think much of it when two weeks becomes two months.

He'll admit that he thinks about you briefly when your father wins the election.

It's only 'cause Kang makes a big fucking fuss about how it's all Jungkook's fault, and that if he'd have 'just done that one fucking job', then maybe Kang would have won it.

In fact, he's sure he would have won it.

He tells Jungkook that next the time he wants to fuck around with a target - 'cause everyone knows, by that point, what Jungkook had gotten up to in the dark with you (thanks a fuckin' lot, Namjoon) - then he could consider himself a target, too.

He's lucky Kang likes him. Or not so much likes him, but recognises his potential.

Has him in the ring most Thursday nights, fighting scrawny fuckers from the neighbouring clubs, fat cats placing bets on them for sport. He's become quite the fighter. Doesn't see fuck all of the bets placed on him. Gets a 5% cut if he's lucky.

But it's that or face the wrath of Kang, and he knows which he'd rather.

Plus he kind of enjoys it. Likes to fight without consequence. Hasn't been fucking without consequence as of late, so it's a good way to rid himself of his frustrations.

Jimin tries to get him back out there, but every club night turns into Jungkook getting off his tits on god knows what was sold to him in the bathroom. Normally coke. He thinks it's pretty harmless. Just a little buzz. Something to get his heart beating in the same way that you used to.

Because Jin was right. You're just a girl. There'll be others. But while there isn't, he'll get his fix in other ways.

"Slow down," his friends would tell him on the nights he got coked up a little too fast, the house key around his neck dusted in white powder.

"Slow down," his friends would tell him when he was training too hard with fractured knuckles.

"Slow down," Jin would tell Jungkook when he's in the passenger seat, but Jungkook doesn't listen, too busy running reds.

Everyone wants him to slow down, but he doesn't understand it.

Slow down? Spend more time withering away? Spend more time thinking about you?

Slow down? Take longer to get over the fact that he's never gonna get the chance to apologise, never gonna get closure?

Why would the people who care about Jungkook wish that upon him?

And so he speeds up. The coke becomes a cocktail of whatever gets him fucked up fastest. He spends every spare moment training. Jin stops hitching rides from him, 'cause he fears Jungkook is becoming too reckless.

They're all concerned.

It's been months, now.

His hair has grown out and is back to its natural shade. He's filling in his tattoos, numbing his skin, covering the art he once loved. Gets a DUI, and only gets off because the superintendent is a spectator of Jungkook's fights; just another one of Kang's Pawns.

See, Jungkook's fights aren't exactly legal. The money made from them definitely isn't legal.

It's then that he realises he's a part of it now; part of the corruption. The same system that killed his mother, the same evil that he'd wanted to destroy from the inside out.

He thinks about Harvey Dent, and the way you could quote the Dark Knight word for word if you really wanted to. It was something he'd learnt about you by accident.

The film had been playing on his television- the Netflix accompaniment to your 'chill' - and you'd stopped midway through a fucking blowjob to do a god awful impression.

'You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.'

At the time, he'd laughed; pulled you in for a dozen kisses and told you never to do the Harvey Dent voice while holding his cock again. That, and also that from now on, movies were strictly off the table whenever the pair of you hung out - only for him to snuggle up with you the next night, watching the Dark Knight Rises because you'd been too sleepy after work to do anything but nap.

The quote haunts him now.

He knows he's lived too long.

It's a Sunday - three months after you'd left - when he finds himself thinking about you again. Your father is launching a new campaign. Some bullshit about healthy family activities. Is opening more parks. A grand opening is being televised.

He doesn't watch it, 'cause why the fuck would he? Avoids that fucker like the plague. Has no idea how your father helped create someone so fucking perfect.

Then again, he supposed it does make sense. Your dad had ruined his life, and you'd ruined his ability to live one without you. Maybe the apple didn't fall too far from the tree.

Jimin is the first to enter the club that night. Keeps a safe distance from Jungkook. Doesn't think he's coked up, but hasn't been happy with him as of late. Is withholding his friendship until the stupid kid gets a fucking grip.

Tonight is different, though.

"Hey," he hums, slinking down into the sofa beside Jungkook. "How you doing, man?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Same old, same old. You?"

His question is met with a near identical answer. Jimin glances towards Jungkook as he sniffs, rubbing the tip of his nose.

"Clean," Jungkook tells him. It's been about a week since he last did gear. Didn't like the way it was fucking with his head. Was trying to cut back. "Just habit."

It's an answer Jimin accepts but doesn't necessarily believe.

Not after the broadcast today.

"You watch it?" He asks, nervous of Jungkook's reaction. The TV is playing on mute in the corner, and Jimin can't take his eyes off it.

"Nope."

Jungkook doesn't even need to ask what he's on about, for he knows. Of course he knows - just like Jimin should know that there'd be no way in hell he'd have been watching. His answer is met with a nod. Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip. Can't look at his friend.

"Kook, there's somethin-"

The sound of the side door opening interrupts Jimin, screeching against the floor because none of them had fixed the hinges yet. It's Namjoon, out of breath and a little flustered. Jin follows in behind him, completely stoic.

"Did he see? Did he fucking see?" He's looking at Jimin, but he's asking about Jungkook.

"See what?" Jungkook asks right back, not enjoying the wild beast look in Namjoon's eyes.

"Oh, Jesus."

"Joon," Jimin warns him, knowing that this was not the kind of thing Jungkook needed to hear so abruptly. It needed Jin's touch. Someone calm, someone able to manage a situation without freaking the fuck out like Namjoon was.

"You know and you haven't told him?!"

"Told me what?" Jungkook asks, knowing that whatever it is can't be good. News delivered like this could never be good.

Jimin glances over to Jin for a little guidance, who simply nods towards the TV in return. "Unmute it."

Jungkook's eyes fall on the screen, where a news reporter is talking about the new campaign with such little enthusiasm it's a wonder it ever got aired.

"Don't wanna see it," Jungkook says, despite the fact his heart is fucking racing. Forget the molly, forget the coke, forget the adrenaline that comes in the form of victories in a boxing ring - the anticipation of you outranks all of those. Has his heart resting in his throat. Threatens to choke him. "If she's there, I don't wanna know."

Oh, but it's a lie. Such a big fat glorious lie. His eyes have never been wider, the flickering screen reflecting in them as he watches some journalist try and set the scene. He doesn't recognise the place. Somewhere downtown according to the location stamp, but he can't place it. Can't get in his car and drive there just in case the campaign is still running.

In the top corner, the time reads 2:43PM. It's now gone 9. This was filmed hours and hours ago. Whatever his friends need him to see is long gone.

The camera cuts to your father. Jungkook's blood seems to rise in temperature. There's a ringing in his ears. Your father is spewing some bullshit about the importance of an active family.

Jungkook thinks that must be nice; having a family you can be active with. Shame the prick on the television screen had torn his family apart.

And then he's talking about his own family. His daughters. Plural. About how lucky he is to have them both. How grateful is he to have parented such intelligent, beautiful young women.

The camera pans.

He sees your sister. It's to be expected. She's always there.

But then the camera pans again.

And it's you.

It's fucking you.

3 months gone and then you're back, back in Daegu, back by your fucking father's side - and Jungkook is seeing red again.

Or he's just seeing you. Either or.

He'd somehow forgotten the effect you have on him.

Jungkook stands. Walks away. Paces a little. Takes deep breaths.

And then he crouches. Rests his head in his hands, wants to scream but is entirely silent.

Joon is the first to speak. "Thought you said she didn't agree with her Daddy's politics?"

Jungkook muffles a response. "She told me she didn't."

"Well, she was fuckin' lying."

He didn't think you were. You'd been riding his cock down a Daegu back alley at the time. Would have been pretty hard to lie, he thinks. Too much else going on. He doesn't tell Namjoon this, though. Doesn't want to speak about fucking you. Doesn't want to think about it either, but the mind is a cruel mistress.

"Does it really matter?" Jimin interrupts, knowing how the pair of them like to gun for one another in moments of heightened tension. Now was no time to be fighting. Not when Jungkook would already be fighting against the demons he's been running from ever since you left. "She's back, and she's untouchable."

It's smart. Oh, it's so fucking smart. Jungkook begins to laugh at how much of a clever little fucker you are.

"That's exactly why she's done it," he says. He'd be proud of you, if the circumstances were different, he thinks. "We can't fucking touch her. None of us. Not even me. Especially not me, actually. She isn't letting herself be vulnerable to us. She's protected by a public persona she didn't have before. Smart bitch." He pauses. Lets himself laugh. "Smart fuckin' bitch."

There's a smile as he says it. A little bit of awe, too. Far more sadness, though.

"Smart fuckin' boy."

The voice that echoes into the room has Jungkook frozen. He doesn't react. Thinks it's in his head. Thinks he really has been taking too much gear lately.

But then hears it again, and fucking hell, it hurts.

"What a pair we could have made."

And then there's the click of heels across the concrete floor. Jungkook can't bring himself to look in the direction of the noise - not that he really has a choice as you walk straight past his pathetically crouched body.

He's not the man he once was, you think. Shame.

His eyes are level with your hand, though, where a ring glistens underneath the cold lights of the club as you walk on by.

It's on the same finger he's been keeping spare in his imagination for months. The one reserved for Haribo rings.

You take a seat. Cross your legs. Smile at the dumbstruck faces of the stupid mother fuckers in front of you.

You had expected this reaction from one of them, but it's kind of satisfying to have them all choked out.

"Sorry I'm late, boys," you smile, all pristine and pure. None of them really understand what the fuck is happening. "I hear you were looking for me? Well, consider me found. Let's get down to business, shall we?"

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

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honeesucker · 1 year

Text

One -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 3,331

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

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Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t an undisciplined person in any way and anyone who had ever spent more than five minutes with the man would know it, back at UA his classmates knew it. His attitude and showmanship justifiable by his actions: hard work, determination to be the best at anything, unwavering confidence. So, it was no surprise that when he was presented with something that made him nervous, left him restless in bed having only gotten around five hours of solid sleep (unacceptable), that he dove head-first into internet research into hybrids, into the rescue facility itself – any reliable informative source Katsuki could get his hands on... he devoured all with a ravenous mind.

He learned that there is a largely biological difference between hybrids and those with an animal quirk. He learned that there are hybrids of different biological levels – some he learned were bred or trained to lean more into their animal natures, while others acted similarly to those with animal quirks (largely human with animal likeness or simple qualities) – the bigger difference being they were still highly susceptible to the whims of their animal DNA (i.e., still driven by instinct, still at the mercy of their biological clocks as present in their hybrid DNA in regard to migratory urges, mating patterns... things of a more engrained nature). He knew now that something he needed to consider was what would be best for him – a hybrid that, like TetsuTetsu was fiercely like his hybrid side but if you didn’t notice the ears and tail at first would just mistake him for a high-strung human, or one that while appearing mostly human would be more aligned with their animal side internally – Katsuki decided he’d wait and see what was suggested at the meeting he had set for later in the evening at the rescue facility. He read up on the efforts of the facility and was nothing less than impressed by their work to rescue, rehabilitate and facilitate safe adoption for their hybrids, but also all of their compiled free resources to learn more about anything one could think of in regards to hybrids, as well as offering in-person classes to be exposed further to important topics and nuances of hybrid life and ownership – classes, Katsuki noted, he would have to take before being chosen to take home a hybrid.

The rest of the morning was a blur of Katsuki half in, half out of consciousness due to his lack of sleep. He moved around the house way too fatigued but managed to make a simple stir-fry in the morning just to get something into his body, and later giving in to his needs and taking a two-hour nap before waking up to shower, and get ready for the first meeting at the rescue facility to get the process started... and though he held a lot of uncertainty he was also looking forward to something like this – something that might help him not feel so alone.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Katsuki was just half-watching a street food documentary series when he heard his phone ping! with a message notification.

3:37 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Hey dude! TetsuTetsu and I are on our way to pick you up... he wanted to come and see some of his friends.

3:39 P.M. [Blasty Boy] Whatever as long as the rockhead doesn’t drool on me.

3:45 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Awe are you wanting to make a good first impression Bakubro? So cute~

Katsuki slammed his phone down, a burning pink tinge to the tips of his ears as he grumbled to himself at the last message.

He just didn’t want to look dirty for the interview.

Another hour had passed before Kirishima finally texted that he was down in front of Katsuki’s building waiting for him, which prompted the blonde to thumb through the folder he had with all the requested documents, glancing at each page for the fifth time again before deciding he hadn’t forgotten anything. He threw on a well-worn leather jacket over his casual outfit and stepped into his boots, taking a final look behind him before stuffing his wallet into his pocket where his phone already sat, and heading out the door with a final click of the automatic door lock.

In the elevator his body felt like a can of compressed air thrown into a fire – ready to burst – but he just took in slow breaths (agency sanctioned therapy) and as he reached the lobby and made his way out, he walked toward the dark sportscar that awaited him, seeing the back window rolled halfway down with TetsuTetsu’s excited face glancing around at the few people on the street until he saw Katsuki.

“Hey, heeeey! Bakugo!” TetsuTetsu was shouting out the window at the man’s approach and Bakugo simply rolled his eyes at the annoying display. Opening the door and sliding into the front passenger seat just as TetsuTetsu was shouting another round of greetings out the window at him.

“Shut up ya damn brick head!” Bakugo growled out, “don’t you have a damn shred of self-control?”

“Plenty!” TetsuTetsu replied, sitting back against the seat with an excited bounce, nearly jumping out of his skin to see Bakugo... even if he just saw him last week.

“Tch,” Bakugo scowled, but Kirishima picked up on the slight quirk to the corner of his friend's lips as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. “Dumbass acting like he hasn’t seen me in years.”

“Ready to go, dude?” Kirishima beamed at his friends who only answered with a quiet grunt. The drive to the facility was about 45 minutes from Katsuki’s apartment, and he took notice of how the further they drove the scenery changed so drastically for such a short distance. Larger skyscrapers and bustling paved streets giving way to more rural, residential areas until he saw the large facility come into view. Katsuki had been in this area before but never noticed the expansive property even one time. It was partially hidden behind rows of trees, and there was a long, looping driveway to reach the front of the facility.

“TetsuTetsu and I come here to volunteer a lot,” Kirishima finally broke the silence from the ride, “he likes to come and see some of his friends and socialize, and I help as an acting liaison since a lot of hero work does include rescuing hybrids either from disaster zones, or worse situations.”

“I never knew that,” Katsuki added, though he had his share of hybrid rescue situations, he never once contemplated where they went after they were taken away – he wondered if they all came to a safe place like what was before him. “Also never knew that you had so much damn free time on your hands to come play around with puppies and shit...” Katsuki walked past the doors as they parted automatically, Kirishima laughed, walking behind him with a shit-eating grin knowing his friends was playing his emotions off cooler than he was feeling. Knowing what he knew of his friend, he was more nervous than anything and that made Kirishima hopeful for Bakugo’s recovery. Whatever that future held, he was certain, as he watched his friend’s back while he walked toward the center desk where a staff member was waiting to greet them, that he wouldn’t be alone and everything would be okay.

Knowing Bakugo, he knew it wouldn’t be an easy process – but he could see the future becoming a brighter shade with each step.

“Ah, welcome back Red Riot!” The staff member beamed excitedly, “and welcome Mr. DynaMight!” She added, “and our little TetsuTetsu! Look how big you’ve gotten!” TetsuTetsu had a smile that took over his whole face as he puffed out his chest at the praise, allowing the woman to give a scratch at the top of his head between his tall ears.

“Alright Bakugo, you’re in good hands with Hina! TetsuTetsu and I are going to be in the common area, we’ll probably see you later once you’re given the tour. Text me if you need anything!” Kirishima was being dragged off by TetsuTetsu who was excitedly going on about who he wanted to see, his silver tail wagging so fast it blurred behind him. Hina got Bakugo’s attention, walking away to lead him toward the meeting room where he was going to be interviewed by the director, go over the paperwork and make copies of the documents he brought, thankful that this was all laid out in the call when he made the appointment – Bakugo liked to be as prepared as possible walking into new situations.

Hina had dismissed herself as she showed Bakugo where he could grab a snack or coffee, tea, water – she offered him everything even as he declined, certain anything that would go into him at this moment would come right back out. He was told the director was running a bit late but should be with him in about ten minutes. He was fine to have the room to himself to calm down, he could feel his palms slickening the more anxious he got and the last thing he wanted to do was blast the damn director with a handshake.

Maybe he did want that tea.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility in the common room Kirishima was crowded by his normal little friends, excitedly saying hello and telling him about their recent activities since his last visit. His eyes scanned for TetsuTetsu he noticed was frozen to the spot where in stood just in the doorway that led out to the garden. He followed the hybrid’s gaze to a small puppy hybrid curled up underneath a tree bathed in speckled sunlight. Kirishima watched as TetsuTetsu walked out into the garden with tentative steps and saw the puppy hybrid’s wide eyes shoot up toward him.

What a beautiful little creature.

He took in how small you were compared to most other hybrids he’s met so far (aside from the very smallest types), noting that you would definitely only come up to just under his chest, similarly compared to Bakugo a few inches higher on him at the center of his chest - maybe. Your ears were tall points atop your head, and the large, fluffy tail behind you started to give slow thumps as you watched TetsuTetsu approach. Kirishima observed his hybrid sit and pull you into his lap, rubbing his cheek atop your head and watching as your body shook a little, light catching a glistening on your cheek just before it was thumbed away. You shook your head, palming away the tears before giving a beaming smile up at TetsuTetsu whose tail was wagging wildly looking down at you, but Kirishima could see it.

The way the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

He spent more time with the hybrids gathered in the common room, always keeping an eye on his hybrid and the new little companion. Kirishima was soon being pulled multiple ways by hybrids and staff alike to help where it was needed getting lost in the bustle of what normally came with spending time at the hybrid facility – work. It was a brief moment when his eyes darted back out into the garden where he didn’t see you or TetsuTetsu that Kirishima’s whole body went cold with nerves before he settled himself, knowing that even if you both wandered the place you were in was safe. He just always felt better having eyes on TetsuTetsu since he brought him home. It was when he heard a familiar laugh that he noticed you both sitting in front of a T.V. watching Pro Hero fights, TetsuTetsu exclaiming loudly at each incredible move, and you curled up into TetsuTetsu’s lap looking so contented just to share space with someone. Kirishima decided to walk over and introduce himself, but with the way he noticed your eyes always darting around, watching the way your body jumped – just slightly – at each louder than normal noise... he knew he had to approach you carefully than most.

“Hey buddy,” Kirishima called out, lowering his normal boisterous tone to a gentler level, “what’cha watching?”

“Ah Eijiro! Look, look, look!” TetsuTetsu almost threw you out of his lap if he didn’t have an arm hooked around your body holding you to him. “It’s an old Fourth Kind fight!” TetsuTetsu’s tail was whipping behind him with a furious thump seeing the fight. You were leant against his chest with your cheek squished by his shoulder as your eyes studied the huge red-headed Pro standing nearby. Kirishima gave you a bright smile but noticed the way your eyes widened, he wondered if it was the sharp teeth or just being noticed by someone new, he kept his eyes on you with a kind expression on his face as he got TetsuTetsu’s attention back, “Hey bud – who’s your little friend?”

“Ah!” TetsuTetsu tightened his grip on you as he turned his body slightly to show more of you. “This is Tiny!” Kirishima knelt down on the floor, squatting with his butt against his legs to be less of an impending sight to you.

“Tiny huh? Is that really your name?” Kirishima kept the smile on his face, kept his tone gentle and noticed the way you shook your head slowly, but then shrugged – TetsuTetsu popping back into the conversation with a quick, “I call her Tiny because she is! Also, because she said she didn’t have one...” TetsuTetsu trailed off, attention being piqued again by the Pro Hero fight on the T.V. but Kirishima and you were having a staring contest, your ears and cheeks dusted a light pink as you rested your chin on TetsuTetsu’s shoulder.

“If it’s okay to ask,” Kirishima wanted to grab you from his hybrid and curl you up in his arms himself with how cute you looked at the moment, but knew he had to swallow down those feelings. “You don’t have a name?”

“Mm,” you shrugged, “not one I care to have.”

“Have you ever thought about choosing one for yourself?” Kirishima tested the waters, and it seemed you relaxed more around him now than when he first walked over, but you still stole tentative glances at TetsuTetsu for reassurance.

You slowly shook your head, “not really – not if everyone is gonna call me something different anyway.”

The way you said that made Kirishima’s blood turn, but he didn’t let it affect his interaction with you, opting to keep the smile and calm demeanor going, “What do you like to be called most?” Kirishima saw you falter for a moment, probably never having been asked that question before.

“I like when Tetsu calls me Tiny,” the warm smile lit up your face so beautifully, “and almost everyone else I know just calls me Puppy because... I’m a puppy, or really lots of other names too...” your voice got softer a trailed off at the end. Kirishima could see something brewing behind your eyes but didn’t push it further as you rubbed behind your neck a little nervously.

“Is it okay for me to call you eith-” Kirishima could get his full sentence out before you just grinned widely and nodded your head.

“M’okay with anything if it isn’t mean,” you say softly, and Kirishima thinks his heart is going to explode.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility at the tail end of the interview Bakugo thought his heard was going to explode just the same.

“Well, Mr. Bakugo I’m thoroughly impressed with how you’ve answered my questions, and asked your own,” the facility director was thumbing through her own notes and the documents Bakugo had brought with him ensuring all was in order. “I’ve never had an adoption prospect be as informed and prepared as you’ve made yourself which is wholly impressive and says so much about how you’d go into owning a hybrid – truly impressed,” the woman was nodding and repeating herself but Bakugo wasn’t hearing a definitive yes to moving forward so he kept waiting with bated breath. “I’d like to take you for a tour of our facility and tell you more about our efforts, and what you can expect moving forward in this program, and we can meet some of the hybrids who are probably out wandering in the common room at this time as well.” Bakugo simply nodded in a daze, heart rate starting to slow back to a normal pace as he started to collect himself, following the director out of the meeting room and into a long stretch of hallway as she went on about the facilities history and all of what they offer for the hybrids in their care – all information Bakugo had read up on but hearing it as he toured the grounds was still enlightening.

Upon reaching a more open area that the director called the common room he took in the mild bustle of the room, hybrids of all types wandering, lounging and laughing with each other and staff alike.

“So, this is our common area where a lot of the hybrids who are suited for group environments come to socialize and spend their time,” the director drew Bakugo’s attention to the gorgeous garden they had, as well as a small food garden run by some of the facilities bunny hybrids who also helped out in the kitchen – they were a little skittish but super still super kind to show Bakugo around their garden. He also met a few wolf hybrids like TetsuTetsu, a cougar, two cats and a koi fish hybrid lounging in a large, open clearwater pond on the far end of the garden but what really caught Bakugo’s attention was on the other side of the garden in a separate part of the common room – more hybrids were lounging around at tables, but in front of a T.V. where old Pro Hero fight tapes were playing he saw Kirishima’s too large body sunk into a bean bag chair with TetsuTetsu curled up against his side, with a smaller form squished between them, mostly on Kirishima’s chest, nuzzled into his neck.

“Oh - that’s a sight that makes me happy,” the director sighed, sharing the same sight Bakugo was taking in. “That’s our newest hybrid, though she originally came to us just a short while before TetsuTetsu did she was also adopted out shortly after Mr. Kirishima took our TetsuTetsu in, but she’s had a hard time being placed with the right person – she's been surrendered back to us three time in the last year – she's had a rough go of it but always ends up seeking out the right people it seems.” Bakugo was drawn in to the three sleeping forms, walking closer until he was just a foot or so away. TetsuTetsu was snuggled into Kirishima’s side, mouth hanging open with the drool of a deep sleep. Kirishima was snoring lightly and had a hand brought up to wrap around the smaller form laying atop him. When his eyes laid on you, a little puppy hybrid with soft ears, tall, little triangles even as you slept, a big fluffy tail and an unnerving amount of old healed scars on the exposed skin he could see. Your face looked so peaceful, lashes shadowing on your cheeks, eyebrows drawn together in your sleep as if your dream bothered you, even a little kick of your leg across Kirishima’s stomach as you shifted in your sleep.

Something in Bakugo reached out from inside of him, his mind or his heart he couldn’t tell the difference – all he knew was that this feeling was one he couldn’t easily shake. He didn’t know if it was because you just looked like you needed protecting, or because the director said you were returned three times and he’s never turned down a challenge, but Bakugo now had his mark set on you – you are who he wanted to know more about, to bring home and keep safe, and he would jump through any hoops to make that happen.

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