#i think the colors on my tablet look different than other devices but fuck it we ball
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hello tumblr i am ttrying to remember how to. draw. anyways pete wentz doodles
#fall out boy#pete wentz#fob#night in the woods#i kinda forget how tumblr works ngl#fob fanart#i think the colors on my tablet look different than other devices but fuck it we ball#i spent two hours trying to fix it last night and i. Cant.#anyways first post! please talkt o me i like friends
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To All The Men I’ve Fucked Before ; (M) jjk
↣ When your secret 'sex' journal entries are somehow texted to the people they were written about, including a couple of coworkers and your best friend, you find your quiet work existence turned upside down. based off of TATBILB.
moodboards | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist | TATMIFB masterlist
↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Jeon Jungkook x Reader starring in a fake dating au, photographer!JK, stylist!Reader
⟢ pairing: photographer!jungkook x stylist!reader
⟢ word count: 30.7k
⟢ genre + warnings: nsfw 18+, fake relationship, smluff © & angst, kissing, fluffy fake relationship cuteness, jealousy, jungkook needs help with feelings, clothed humping, explicit sexual content in the form of unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, body worship, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, hickies, blowjob, creampie, begging, strip tease if you squint, baby petname, crying, feelings of heartbreak, oh did i mention angst? namkook fist fight, minimal arguing, minimal blood, other idols make brief appearances, OT7 is present
⟢ summary: When your secret 'sex' journal entries are somehow texted to the people they were written about, including a couple of coworkers and your best friend, you find your quiet work existence turned upside down. based off of the netflix film and novel by jenny han, but different.
⟢ an: hello, hello! this is probably my favorite story to date that i’ve written and the longest one shot! I am so grateful to everyone who helped me by reading this (most are not on tumblr), but especially my baby hana, @taestulip, who always reads and hypes me up. the movie/book series it’s based off of is honestly one of my faves, and turning it into an adult version was a lot of fun! I know i took out some characters and changed a lot of the plot devices, but for good reason, as it is it’s own novel, I did not want to encroach on that territory. fake dating au’s are some of my absolute faves and so i hope you enjoy this! sorry for the length, sksksks.
⟢ prologues: NJ & Reader | Love Triangle (coming soon) |
The large glass building was located on the corner of the block, in the heart of the city. A sight to see from all corners of the downtown area, you loved that you worked at BigHit Music. Of course, housing the globally recognized idol duo, SeoulM8, made working there fun. You walked into the building, and swiped your badge as you made your way through the secured entrance and up the elevator to your office.
The gold plaque on your door highlighted your name and position. To this day you’re still in awe to see your name engraved in sans serif with the words “Lead Wardrobe Stylist” written beneath it. You entered the office, flipping on the lights and smiling at the large board along the back wall. It was covered with the designs you would need for the upcoming shoot for SeoulM8’s fan content, first single off their newest album, and plans for the concert wardrobe as well.
Placing your empty insulated coffee tumbler on your desk, you set down all of your belongings, organizing your design tablet, notebook, and favorite writing utensils before once again taking the tumbler in hand. A cup of coffee would be perfect to start your busy Monday before your meeting with Jimin and Taehyung about their wardrobe later today.
Walking into the employee lounge area, you set about making your coffee. Others walked in and out, dropping off packed lunches and grabbing coffee as well, so you can’t help but hear the gossip as two of the women who work with SeoulM8 discuss the latest office drama.
“I can’t believe it. She broke up with him!” Becca said, her colorful pixie cut swaying slightly as she shook her head.
“She’s crazy, Jungkook is gorgeous; have you seen his thighs?” Theresa responded, twirling her dark purple curls in wonder.
You stirred in the caramel creamer slowly, listening to their conversation. Jeon Jungkook and Jeon Somin (no relation) had been dating for almost as long as you could remember. It was surprising to hear that they were broken up.
“Somin is really pretty too, though, she could have any guy… What if that’s what it was?”
“You think someone better than Jungkook came along and wooed her?”
“I mean… I swore I heard a rumor that she went out on a date with one of the actors, but who knows. All we know for sure is that Jungkook is single.”
Finishing your coffee, you closed the lid to your favorite cup and left the room, smiling politely to Becca and Theresa who provided you with the information that had your head reeling. The entire walk back to your office, and even once you were seated at the desk, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jungkook and Somin.
Somin was one of the first friends you made at BigHit School for Music and Artists when you transferred in after completing your AA requirements at another university. BHSMA operated differently than traditional universities, converting students to employees at the company associated with the school. It was where you met Jungkook, Jimin, and a few other people that you worked closely with at the company. After that first year though, you grew apart from some of the people you spent that entire first year with, making new friends, like the one walking in through your office door.
So lost in thoughts of the past, you almost knocked over your perfectly made coffee onto your design tablet, where you had been sketching aimlessly. A dimpled smile was the cause of your quickly beating heart, complimenting the face of Namjoon, who startled you when he called your name loudly.
“Joon, I swear, one day, you will be the death of me, and my electronics.”
“Listen, you dropped your phone all on your own, no one told you to be scared when I walked into the room.”
“Stop being so fucking loud when you enter, you startle people!”
He just laughed, his pretty eyes disappearing as he expelled joy. Namjoon was glowing, his tanned skin looking healthy and youthful. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he pushed his falling platinum hair out of his dark eyes and set his gaze on you.
“I think I’m gonna do it today, Y/N.”
You froze, smile still on display, but a little less enthusiastic than when he had first walked in.
“Do it?” You asked, wary as you saw his hand drift to his inside coat pocket.
“I love her, Y/N. I think I’m gonna ask her to be mine, always.” Namjoon removed a small velvet box from his pocket and you reached for it, hand trembling slightly. Namjoon, in his excitement, was oblivious to the way you shook, as well as the sound of your heart splintering. “Do you think Jennie will like it?”
Looking at the ring tucked into the box, you nodded, not trusting your voice. Of course Jennie would. It was beautiful. A rose gold band with an opulent Moonstone set in the middle, and two smaller diamonds set on either side. You knew that the moonstone was Joon’s favorite, he talked about how much he loved the moon countless late nights that you would sit with him in his studio.
“It’s gorgeous, Namjoon.” You said quietly. This time, he noticed the tremble of your voice, and stood worriedly from where he was perched on the corner of your desk.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” He asked you, concerned by your demeanor.
“Nothing, I’m just so happy for you.” You lied, tilting your head back to blink away the forming tears. Believing you, he enveloped you into a hug and you hugged him back tightly, afraid to let go.
“Ah, you have a meeting soon and I’m here making you cry… I’ll see you after and tell you how it went! Good luck, Y/N!”
Namjoon exited your office, footsteps light as he headed towards his future… and away from you. Sinking into your chair, you take several steadying breaths in order to settle your heart. Why did it hurt so much? You had given up on the idea of you and Namjoon a long time ago. This wasn’t what you expected to have to deal with when you arrived to work, but you were a professional. Wiping your smudged eyeliner to clean up your makeup, you looked down at your design tablet, where you see the sketch of a professional camera held by a large hand up to a large doe eye half finished on your screen.
Hitting the “new” button, you begin to draw anew on a clean canvas creating the concept for the concert design for your meeting with SeoulM8 later on.
—
Sitting at home, you massaged the soles of your feet as you rested on your couch with your younger sister, Yuna, who was doing her homework at the coffee table. It had been a long day, but Jimin and Taehyung loved your idea for their concert concept: young guys traveling Seoul for group songs, and angelic, soft individual images of them with feathered outfits to match their solo songs.
“Yuna… Namjoon is getting engaged today.”
Your sister stopped working, turning to look at you with eyes wide. She had been diligently studying for the cosmetology courses she was taking at your alma mater in hopes of getting hired at the same company as you. This news threw her off track.
“What? He—wait, what?”
You nodded, letting out a deep sigh as you turned towards the floor to ceiling windows in the living room. Rain was steadily falling, the perfect backdrop to your mood.
“Both of our dreams are shattered. He showed me the ring and said he was proposing today. To Jennie.”
Yuna flung herself onto the couch dramatically.
“Can we please drink to drown our sorrows? This homework can wait.”
You nodded, turning on Netflix before getting up to grab the wine and glasses. While you stood on tiptoe at the edge of the counter, reaching up into the tall cabinet for the long stemmed glasses, the doorbell to your apartment rang.
“I’ll get it!” Yuna yelled, and so you clambered onto the counter, knees digging into the marble as you finally managed to reach your goal.
“Oh! Namjoon?”
You almost slipped from where you were perched, confused as to why your newly engaged best friend would be loudly squelching his tennis shoes into your apartment and not ravishing his fiancee. You expected a text or call about the engagement, not a personally delivered update.
You wouldn’t be able to pretend this time.
Turning to look at the entryway, you see a downtrodden and sopping wet Namjoon, eyes rimmed red from crying.
“Joonie?” Your voice was soft, questioning. He maneuvered across the kitchen with just three big steps and pulled you into his arms. His body slotted between your thighs where you sat on the counter after almost falling, and he let loose a sob that broke your heart even more than earlier.
“Joon, what happened?” You asked, scared.
“J-Jennie… she said no.” Your eyes widened in shock, but you waited patiently for him to continue. “She’s moving to Japan, she took that expansion position… She broke up with me.”
—
It was a long night to say the least. 2 wine glasses turned into 3 once Namjoon had shown up. You grabbed some of his spare clothes for him to change into, threw his stuff in the washer, and joined Yuna and him back in the living room where they had both curled up and began watching The Start Up on Netflix.
Climbing onto the couch, you wrapped your arm around him and placed your head on his shoulder. He kissed your forehead before settling in to watch TV, and you couldn’t help the way your heart reacted to it. He had always been affectionate with you during your time as best friends, though it had lessened some the more serious he and Jennie became. The difference now was that this time, he was single. A part of you hoped it could mean more in the future.
By episode 2, Namjoon was asleep on Yuna’s shoulder; no surprise considering how tired he must have been. He had cried on his way to your apartment, and the last of his tears onto your shirt when he arrived. Luckily, you hadn’t yet changed out of your own work clothes, so when you grabbed his garments, you took the opportunity to change into a spaghetti strap tank and sweatpants for couch cuddling. You turned off the TV as you untangled yourself from him, stretching as he roused slightly from your movements.
“Don’t you two just look like the sweetest couple,” you say yawning, gently teasing your sister who was beet red from your words. Her crush on Namjoon was nothing new, but not something she wanted him to know about. She already knew she was too young for him; seen as nothing more than his best friend’s little sister. A part of Yuna was jealous that you had better chances with him than she did.
“Shut it!” Her whisper is harsh, but Namjoon slept on, unaware of the sisterly teasing. “I already know you’re gonna write all about this in your sex book!”
You rolled your eyes, having forgotten about your old journal that you kept. You just shrugged, leaning down to gently wake Namjoon so you can put him to bed.
“Come on sleepy… Let’s get up and go to bed okay?”
His large frame shuffled across the living room and down the hallway to your room. You heard him plop heavily on your bed, probably already asleep without having pulled back the covers. You put the empty wine glasses into the sink and straightened up the living room a tiny bit before you went to your room as well.
Not yet ready for bed, you sat at your desk with the small lamp on, staring at the old journal your sister reminded you about. The image on the front is faded; you can barely make out what it used to be as you’ve covered it with doodles and stickers that are peeling at the edges. Opening it, you turned through the pages, taking in the lengthy entries about the boys you’ve slept with, starting with the one you lost your virginity to.
Your finger grazed across the fancy calligraphy where you wrote his name at the top in a purple gel pen in. Jeon Jungkook. You laughed at the way you wrote about him, first describing him as a person before giving the intimate details of the experience, and finally ending it with a brief message of what you had wanted to say to him. Your eyes scanned the page, certain sentences catching your attention as you read it.
“...and the way he held my neck when he first entered me, I think I’m in love.”
“He said it was his first time too. Does this mean something?”
“Jungkook, having you as my first… I want you to be my last. You looked at me as if the galaxies were reflected in my eyes. I want to feel the way you make me feel all the time. I hope that this does change things between us, but in a good way.”
You cringe a little, remembering how it didn’t turn out that way. Instead, after that night 5 years ago, you didn’t talk to Jungkook for a couple of days due to exam week. You texted him after your last test and he told you to come over; he wanted to talk to you about something too. But when you went to his dorm to see him and confess, you found him with Somin, your best friend at the time. They weren’t doing anything outrageous, just sitting on his twin bed in his dorm room talking, but you heard what she was saying through the door that was cracked.
Somin was confessing. You had no idea that she liked him too. It made your heart tight knowing that he had slept with you a week prior, and now your best friend was confessing to him. To be fair, neither of you had told the other about your feelings towards him. So instead of walking in and telling him how you felt, you left. He had texted you later asking what happened to you coming over but you lied, saying you had gotten busy.
On the last day of the semester, Somin shared that she was dating Jungkook. Shocked and heartbroken, you wasted no time packing up your dorm for the summer and traveling home. Phone calls, texts, and plans to meetup became less frequent between your group of friends over the following semester until they eventually stopped. Did you stop talking to Jungkook and Somin… or was it them that stopped talking to you?
Turning the pages, you move on from the thoughts of the photographer and stop at the next blank page. Grabbing a blue gel pen from the cup on your desk, you write with flair.
Kim Namjoon.
How do I even begin to express how I feel about you? God, you make my heart flutter. I met you at a time when I needed someone. You were the bane of my existence at first, blasting your loud music from the apartment under mine. Going to yell at you turned out to be the best thing. You turned out to be the best thing. Of course, you had just started going out on dates with Jennie and you would be graduating a year ahead of me, but I knew that we would stay best friends. I mean, most BHSMA students intern at and get hired by the company. So for the longest time, I hid my feelings from you. That one night, before you and Jennie were exclusive… when we had sex, I thought my heart would burst. I never wanted a man so badly before that night. You are the moon in my sky, Kim Namjoon. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? What other being could wrap me in love from beginning to end? Tonight you have just lost your moon. I am a terrible person because a part of me is happy to not be losing her moon. So now, I will climb into bed next to your sleeping body and hold you close as we sleep, and pray when the morning comes, in the light of the day, you will open your eyes and see me—the faint moon in the sky that has always been there for you. Maybe you will finally see me—and decide you want me too.
Setting the pen down, you reach for your phone. In your slightly drunken state, you decided to take pictures of each entry, in order to move these to a more secure environment and take your journal digital. You snapped a picture of each page (not that there were many) before you checked your phone for messages and plugged it in. You left your room to shut down all the lights now that Yuna was finished putting away her stuff and making her way to bed as well.
“Hey, can I grab an extra notebook from your stash? I need to finish taking these notes on mixing hair colors.”
“Sure, it’s under the desk in the blue bin.”
She nodded and you continued past her, double checking the door to make sure it was locked before moving to throw Namjoon’s clothes into the dryer. Once satisfied that the house was in order, you went to your room. Yuna was standing over your desk, eyes reading your latest entry into the journal.
“Yuna! Get out!”
“This is beautiful though, he should see it. You need to tell him how you feel!”
You shook your head.
“No. He just got his heart broken. It’s not the time to tell him.”
“You’re stubborn,” she whispered back at you, “you’re gonna lose him again!”
“Then that’s how it was destined to be. But I am not taking advantage of his vulnerable state.”
“You’re gonna be single forever. Spending every night with your baby sister, drinking wine because all the men you have ever loved have moved on!”
“Go to bed, Yuna!”
She shrugged as she walked out of the room, knowing that she was right. Deep down, a part of you felt like she was right too.
Climbing into bed, you struggled to lift the covers over Namjoon’s slumbering frame before it pulled free and you could cover the two of you. As you settled into the bed next to him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his chest in his sleep.
You knew that his dreams were imagining Jennie in his arms instead.
—
That next morning, you checked Namjoon’s phone for his calendar. Having known him for several years, you know his passcode and that he keeps his work schedule exclusively on his cell. Typing in the code, 0613, you saw that his calendar stated that he didn’t need to go to the office until around noon.
Lucky, you thought, eyeing the time on the phone. It was a little past 6:45am, and you had to wake your sister for her hands-on class before you got ready for the day.
“Yuna! It’s almost 7,” you say as you knocked on her door and heard a muffled response. You headed back to your room and chose your outfit, knowing that the day would be busy and long with the concept photoshoot for SeoulM8 starting today. Choosing your outfit wisely, you climbed into the shower a few minutes later and spent at least a half hour just trying to cure the small hangover from the wine.
Once dressed, you found Yuna packing her bag for class. It was getting close to 8, which is the latest that you could leave to be at work on time, so you wrote a quick note to Namjoon and ran back to leave it on the bed. His hand snaked out of the covers just as you were pulling your hand back, a gentle grip to your wrist holding you there.
“Y/N, thank you for last night.” His voice is like a bullfrog’s croak, and you chuckled.
“Let me get you some water and some pain meds, okay? And of course Joonie, I’m here for you.” You leaned onto the bed with one knee, smoothing his hair back from his face once he’s released your wrist. “Always.”
Pressing your lips to his warm forehead, he pulled you down onto the bed with a hug and you can’t help but laugh.
“I’ve got to go! I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded before he grips your neck, bringing his lips to your forehead this time. His lips linger longer than usual, and you shut your eyes at the tenderness of his kiss.
“Go back to sleep, now.” You pulled away from him, going to grab the medicine and water before you and Yuna leave the apartment.
—
You made it to work with extra time to make your coffee, so after you dropped off all of your extra stuff, you grabbed your tumbler and work tablet with all of your drawn designs for today’s shoot and made your way through the busy halls to the employee lounge. Today, the door was propped open for ease as it was a busier day in the building.
You stood at the counter, stirring in the caramel creamer that you loved, when you felt a presence enter the room behind you.
“Y/N.”
Turning lazily, you cocked your eyebrow at Jungkook, who was standing awkwardly behind you. He had kicked the doorstop, allowing the door to close so that the two of you stood alone in the small staff kitchen. His hands were tucked into his joggers, while a white button down hung loosely from his frame.
“Whats up JK?” You asked, expecting him to address something about the shoot. You hadn’t yet seen the men you were to dress, so you couldn’t fathom he was here to complain already about the costuming. “If it’s about the wardrobe, I haven’t even seen Tae or Jimin yet, so—”
“Actually, no. Um,” he rubbed the back of his neck before making eye contact with you, “I know that when we had sex that one time, it was great—”
Instantly, alarm bells went off in your head. What the actual fuck was Jungkook doing talking about the night you lost your virginity to each other?
“—but I just... don’t feel the same way that you do about me. You know? That was years ago, and yeah while it was just as good for me as it was for you, I’m not in love with you or anything, I just broke up with Somin too, so—”
“Jungkook! Wait—what are you talking about?”
“The text you sent me.”
“Jungkook, I haven’t texted you in weeks.” You looked down at the phone you had pulled out of the back pocket of your ripped black jeans, and opened up the messages. You noticed his text thread was now at the top. “Wait, what?”
Opening his specific thread you see the screenshot of the page from your journal that you took last night, sent to him. How the fuck did this happen? In your drunken state, did you send it to him? You begin to ramble as you throw the spoon in the sink with a loud clunk and begin screwing the lid on the coffee.
“Jungkook, stop. That was from a long time ago, it’s not recent at all, oh my god. I am so sorry you had to read that—you know what, I’m just gonna head to the set now. Okay, bye!” You breezed past him, feet carrying you out of the employee lounge with a swiftness. Once back in your office you stared at the horrid message, outraged at yourself for your drunken antics.
Drunk you must really hate sober you.
—
Work was just as hectic as you thought it was going to be. After the most embarrassing morning, you were summoned right away to a last minute meeting with Jimin and Tae, where you made minor changes to their wardrobe.
“Y/N, you were always good at this in school, but damn. You are amazing now.” Jimin stared at you reflected in the mirror after you had turned his outfit into something fit for the concept with a few movements of the material that wrapped his body. Park Jimin, one of the few people you were still somewhat close with from that first year of school, was now a big shot idol, and one-half of SeoulM8. Kim Taehyung, his best friend, was the other part of the duo. He had met him after everyone split off after that first year. Going by the stage names Jimin and V, the two had met in their vocal lesson classes when Taehyung had switched his major, and BigHit saw potential in them.
You walked with Jimin towards the set of the photo shoot, one of the bigger production rooms today due to the use of the second level. They would be posing next to a hole in the floor, feathers falling around them. Taehyung was already antsy to get started, and was playing around with Somin, who was one of the group’s managers, while he waited for Jimin to arrive back to the set. Now, it looked like the only person missing was the photographer.
Walking to the fold out table set up at the back wall, you heard your phone chime. Opening to your messages, you saw a text from someone you hadn’t talked to in a while.
“Seo Joon?” You question quietly to yourself, but before you could even read the message, you saw a similarly embarrassing photo above his reply.
“Oh God, oh God...” You clicked out of his message thread, ignoring the reply because you honestly didn’t care. What you actually cared about was if you had somehow sent the most recent entry of your journal to the last person on Earth who was ready to read it. Namjoon.
“Fuck. Oh no. Oh no.” Sitting there, you saw the message clear as day with the small read receipt that it indeed had been read by him. The door to the set opened and Jungkook came waltzing through with his assistant. Before the door had a chance to swing closed all the way, you saw Namjoon’s form enter the room.
“Alright, let’s get started!” Jungkook’s voice was loud and called everyone’s attention except for Namjoon. His eyes were on you. He beelined your way, and you readied yourself to apologize to him, but before either of you could say anything, Jungkook interrupted.
“Hey Joon, good to see you hyung! I’m so sorry though, we got a closed set and need to get started… tight time schedule and all.”
“I just need to talk to Y/N.”
Jungkook took in Namjoon’s demeanor; eyes red, hair disheveled, voice wobbly. It was so unlike Namjoon to look this way that Jungkook looked at you before speaking. Your expression was confusing to Jungkook, as he knew Namjoon was your best friend. Your eyes were wide in fear with tears forming… when you didn’t say a word, Jungkook took charge. A part of him saw that fear in your eyes and wanted to protect you.
“Look Joon-hyung, normally I wouldn’t mind, but we need Y/N on set the entire time today. Wardrobe is important for concept photos, you can understand right? Maybe at break time or something?”
Namjoon nodded as Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your waist and he led you away from the table and back towards where the staging was set. When you finally chanced a look back, you saw the assistants leading Namjoon and a few other non-essential workers out of the room. Everyone else on set had watched the exchange between the three of you, including Somin. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the way Jungkook’s fingers curled around your frame.
At break time, you hid out, avoiding Namjoon who had, reluctantly, waited several hours until break was called. He would have to go into the studio soon, which you knew since you saw his calendar, and after the short 30 minute break, Jungkook retrieved you from the small side room you were hiding in when they resumed the next set of shots using black leather and wings.
The shoot kept your thoughts off of the incident, as you so aptly decided to call it in your head, until it was time to leave. You walked out with a large group, stealthily making it to your office. You sat on the floor with your back to the door, reviewing how many received these drunken messages of yours, happy to see that only 3 actually went through, since most of them were no longer in your phone anymore or had changed their numbers.
Park Seo Joon, an ex from your second year at BHSMA, had moved to Japan for work, and while he did respond, he figured it was a mistake and as the smart person he was, he noticed the date in the corner and was aware that it was old. You breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have avoided that potentially awkward scenario.
Hearing your phone ping, you checked the message and saw it was Jungkook. A series of messages came in from him, and you read them in succession.
Shaking your head, you stand, grabbing the white outfits from the rack an assistant had brought in earlier after the set change. Throwing them over your arm, you head off to the set in a rush, shooting back a quick text to let him know you were coming.
Most everyone from earlier was back on set, expressions showcasing various stages of irritation. You handed the clothing to an unusually quiet Somin, and lifted your now free arm to wave at the artists. Somin walked away, throwing quiet looks over at you and Jungkook, who you were standing near now that you had approached the table. Jungkook was leaning on that same table, arms crossed as he reviewed the printout of what was needed.
“You know they sent us an updated list 2 hours after we started shooting? While we were all here, they thought that we could somehow read their minds. Then when I uploaded and sent the file over to have them double check, they responded that we had to finish it tonight.”
“It’s annoying for sure, JK, but you know Jimin and Tae will deliver. Once they’re dressed I bet we’ll be done in like 15 minutes, max.”
He nodded, smiling at your optimism.
“Hey, are you gonna tell me what earlier was about? With Namjoon hyung?”
You froze, not expecting the question, but you were saved from having to answer right then, since Namjoon walked in at that moment. It was too late for you to go anywhere; you were standing too close to the door, trapped between the table and Namjoon, who looked hurt. Jungkook read the situation and took several steps away to give you some privacy with Namjoon.
“You’ve been avoiding me all day. After that message—did you think that I wouldn’t read it? I just broke up with Jennie, Y/N, it’s… I’m not… You can’t just say this shit to me right now.”
“Namjoon—I didn’t mean to, I was drunk and I promise you it’s not what you think, I don’t feel that way, okay?” You try and take it all back, wishing more than anything that he hadn’t read what you had written the previous night.
“You don’t feel that way? Are you kidding me? I read it!”
“No, I don’t feel that way, okay? I’m with someone else.” You lied. You hoped that he would buy it.
“Y/N, I’m your best friend. Don’t you think I would know?”
“Yeah, you're my best friend, but you and Jennie are always together, it’s been forever since we actually caught up, so yes, it’s recent okay?”
“Who are you dating then?”
You say the first name that popped into your head. The person closest to you.
“Jeon Jungkook.”
“I don’t believe it.” His words come out harsh, and a part of you, the part that already feels like shit because Namjoon chose to be with Jennie a couple of years ago, lashes out in hurt.
“Why? Cause someone like him could never date someone like me?”
“Yes, Y/N. You guys are too different!” His voice was getting louder, and you knew that you had to do something in order to get him to believe your lie. So you do the only thing you can think of in your heated state. You take the several steps needed to cross the space between you and Jungkook, who looked up from where he was absorbed into his phone.
“You ready?” he asked, looking down at your small frame.
“Yeah baby, I’m ready.” Your hand snaked behind his head, and firmly grasping his neck, you leaned up on tiptoes as you pulled his mouth toward yours. You kissed him, and in his surprise, his free hands gripped your waist and he pulled you closer to him, before you were separating from him, slightly breathless. His grip tightened before it rested gently on your hip and you settled back onto your heels.
You see the back of Namjoon’s coat trail behind him as he disappeared out the doors, pulling them shut loudly behind him.
You look back up at Jungkook, whose fingers squeeze your sides quickly to grab your attention.
“You’re definitely gonna have to explain after that kiss... baby.”
—
Later that evening, you sat with Jungkook in his car. A black Mercedes Benz GT63S to be exact, with dark grey leather and a small bit of wood grain along the spacious dashboard. Your fingers trailed along the wood grain as you explained to Jungkook what happened, starting with the accidental drunk text messages, leading up to the reason behind your kiss.
“So now what?” Jungkook asks, looking sideways over at you.
“I don’t know. I feel so stupid.”
“Look, Y/N… I think this could be mutually beneficial.”
You meet his eyes, a look of incredulity across your face.
“Please explain Jeon.”
“Look, earlier when I stepped in and kicked hyung off set, Somin was already eyeing the way we were behaving. She may or may not have texted me about it. Of course, I told her we were broken up, so she didn’t need to concern herself with my business. And then, when we came back to set, she made a face when they asked me to text you to come back too.” He smirked.
“I may or may not have peeped it, and may or may not have used it to my advantage. Of course, you kissing me definitely helped.” He glanced down at his phone as it lit up. Once again a message from Somin tiled above 17 other messages from her. He had been actively ignoring them while the two of you talked.
“So I say that we date.”
“We what?”
“Date. I can teach Somin a lesson about how to treat me and you can keep hyung off your back.”
“Teach Somin? I thought she broke up with you?”
“It was mutual. But this always happens. And I for one am tired of the back and forth. So this can teach her that other people want me, and I can move on, or she can stop with the drama and we stop breaking up every other week.”
You nodded. It sounded like a feasible plan, and you told him as much.
“So it’s agreed. We’re now together.”
“Not so fast, Jeon… I think we should have a backstory, get some things straight, set some rules.”
“Rules, Y/N? You sure know how to take the fun out of it.”
You rolled your eyes.
“When did we start dating?” you asked, ignoring his snide comment.
“We got together… at the beginning of the week. Somin and I broke up 2 weeks ago, though we didn’t make it public because she always does this shit...” he trailed off, before smiling back at you. “So yeah, let’s say we’ve been talking here and there everytime me and Somin would break up, and then we went on a couple dates during that first week we broke up and made it exclusive this week.”
You commit this to memory, then pull out your tablet and begin jotting it down with the stylus.
“Okay, so this is new, but we’ve been on each other’s radar for a bit. I think that’s believable, especially since we’ve known each other just as long as you and Somin have. How do you plan to make her jealous? It has to seem real, you know?”
“Trust me, she already thinks this is real,” he nods to his phone again, now at 28 unread messages from Somin, “so I think something that we can do is start arriving together. Maybe do little things for each other that are cute coupley things, be seen together. Kiss at work. Maybe I can sleep over a few nights or you at mine?” He winks at you.
“I thought you didn’t see me that way, Jeon.” You looked down at the tablet, furiously scribbling what he said in order to avoid looking at him and showing the way he caused your cheeks to warm.
“I said I wasn’t in love with you, babe, not that I wasn’t interested in sleeping with you again.”
“Yeah, well that’s off the table Jeon. This isn’t real.”
He just wagged his eyebrows at you seductively, but you laughed and moved on from it, reviewing the list you wrote out.
You made sure to underline number seven so he could see it easily.
“And when does this end?” You asked.
“Um, I don’t know. I guess we just play it by ear. Let it be natural. Obviously not too early or too late, and it should be mutual. I mean, if Somin learns her lesson, we would obviously have to end things, but I don’t see that happening sooner than a month.”
“Okay,” you tilt your head, thoughtfully, “So we can re-examine this in like a month then.”
“So is this like a contract or what?” he jokes. “Want me to sign it?”
“Sure,” you say, playing along and offering him the stylus. He took it from your hand and signed his signature, and then handed you back the pen, gesturing for you to sign as well. You followed suit, a quiet chuckle as you saved the page to your tablet’s files.
“Wanna drive me home, boyfriend?”
—
Dating Jungkook was… interesting, to say the least. You were a little surprised when he texted you the next morning asking what your coffee order was, and you weren’t expecting him to be so punctual when he pulled up to your apartment. But as you and Yuna exited the apartment that morning, he was already parked at the curb, music a little too loud for the early morning transit, but you were thankful nonetheless.
“Why are you taking us?” Yuna asked in her very blunt manner. She, of course, had heard of Jungkook, more so due to your falling out with Somin, but Jungkook took her question in stride.
“Because I’m dating your sister.”
He handed you an iced caramel latte with a soft smile that you couldn’t help but return. Jungkook looked stunningly handsome, hair floofed to your desired preference and an all black outfit to match. His pants were the perfect fit to his well-toned body and the black bomber jacket gave him a bad boy edge that was softened by his doe eyes.
Yuna coughed, choking on her strawberry flavored poptart as you turned to look out the window. Yuna, seated behind you, hit the back of your seat.
“You’re dating him? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure it was going to work out this time… He and his ex used to be on and off a lot and I didn’t want to tell you if they got back together.” You answer, mixing the truth into it.
“Ohhhh, I see. You a player Jeon? Gonna break my sister’s heart?” Yuna eyed him, pupils narrowed as they stared at him.
He cleared his throat, not expecting to have to defend himself against the small pitbull in the backseat.
“Not planning on it, Yuna.” Jungkook reached over and took your hand into his large one, interlocking your fingers before he kissed the back of your hand sweetly as he released the brakes and pulled off.
Walking into the BigHit building, Jungkook held the door open for you before placing his hand in the back pocket of your black skinny jeans as you walked to the elevator. You wore a black knit sweater that fell slightly off the shoulder, and you knew it looked like you two had coordinated outfits. His other hand held the strap of the backpack he had slung over his shoulder while you clutched your coffee and your bag.
You started to walk off towards your office once you made it to your floor, but Jungkook’s hand on your ass pulled you back towards him. He leaned down to your ear, whispering quietly.
“Where are you off too in such a hurry?”
“Um, my office… why?”
“Come with me to mine first, let me drop off my bag and I'll walk you back.”
“Oh-kay?”
Letting his pocketed hand guide you, you fell in step with him down the hallway. You passed several other people, including Jin, an actor signed to the company who was known for his gossip, who nodded their hellos to Jungkook before ducking their heads together or reaching for their phones. It felt like high school all over again. Jungkook removed his hand from the warmth of your ass in order to open his office door, to which he then pulled you inside. Closing the door, he backed you into it rather loudly. The windows in the door are frosted, but you knew that pressed to it like this, anyone who looked could see your outline against it.
Jungkook pushed his body into yours, lips following suit as his hands found purchase on your hips. He kissed you languidly, the mint from his toothpaste clashed with your coffee, though not unpleasant. You kissed him back, enjoying the feel of his soft pout as it glided to your neck. He wasted no time in latching on, suckling your neck for a few seconds before he pulled away with a loud smacking noise.
“I must say, we put on quite the show this morning. My roommate was out there, and he will definitely have everyone talking about our PDA.” He grinned, eyes still glued to your neck. “Once that hickey sets in, it will really be the talk of the town.”
You blinked, finally coming back to your senses. Of course. This was all a part of the plan. Jungkook stepped away from you, moving to put away his belongings in his office. You stepped away from the door, looking around as you willed your body to cool down. That kiss had been quite an experience, and you yourself had gotten carried away with the plan.
Turning on the spot, you notice all the different camera equipment lining the walls, the beautiful still photography of various buildings throughout the city, but the most surprising was a photo from the first year you had all met. The picture had you, Jungkook, Somin, Jimin, and a few other friends in it; smiles wide as you stood at the fairgrounds you attended, ferris wheel lighting up the sky behind you. You walked towards it, taking in how carefree you looked, arms wrapped around Jungkook’s waist and his arms thrown over your and Somin’s shoulders, who was making the peace sign with both hands at her eyes. Jimin was making a silly face, arm wrapped around Somin’s waist. Simpler times.
You moved on, turning to the small polaroid camera and you couldn’t help but grab it. Turning, you snapped a photo of Jungkook, who was caught off guard. You took the developing film from the camera and set it down on his desk as he smiled at you.
“Hmm, that’s a good idea. Let me take a few photos of you, I can place them around my office.”
You tried to reject his idea, but he takes the photos anyways, pinching your cheeks and tickling you until he gets what he wants. Finally, 6 clicks later, he stood next to you, facing the camera to the two of you before he said your name softly. You looked up at him, and he surprised you with a kiss. That 7th click captured a kiss, and he placed that one in the back of his phone case.
“You are such a… a lover, Jeon.” You say, pointing at his phone. He shrugged, ignoring your jab.
“It’s something Somin always wanted me to do… I never did though. So seeing this will piss her off.”
You nodded, understanding. Everything he did had a purpose for getting at Somin in some way, shape, or form. You chided yourself that you would do well to remember that.
—
Lunch was a whole new ball game. Used to sitting with Namjoon and Jennie, or some of your assistants, you were now eating lunch with Jungkook, who ate in the employee cafeteria. You followed his request to meet him there and stood in the doorway lost until you heard his voice call out to you.
Noting his waving hand, you wove through the circular tables until you reached the one he was at with Jimin, Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi, a producer friend that you knew through Namjoon.
All of the seats were taken, but before you could stand there looking out of place, Jungkook scooted his chair out and all but pulled you onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your clean scented perfume and strawberry shampoo.
“Get a room, JK.” Yoongi said, face contorted with a mock look of disgust.
“What? She’s just so cute and warm.” His fingers drifted towards the hem of your sweater and disappeared up into the material, cold fingers pressed against the soft skin of your belly and you shivered with a giggle, pushing his ice box hands away.
“You’re cold as fuck, Jesus Jeon! Were you hanging out in a freezer?”
“You could say that...” Taehyung laughed while elbowing Jimin, and you raised an eyebrow at them, wanting in on the joke, too.
“He was reviewing pictures with us and our managers.” Jimin clarified, and you nodded.
“I take it that Somin wasn’t very warm?” You asked, leaning more into Jungkook.
“Not at all,” Tae disclosed, “she was very icy, had a lot to say about our dear JK over here, didn’t she?”
“Nothing we haven't heard before.” Jimin answered, and the two laughed, but you didn’t find it all that funny. Hearing that Somin trash talked Jungkook to his friends while working didn’t sound like the kind of person anyone would want to date.
“Well she can talk shit all she wants, she’s just mad he’s moved on.” You defended, and are surprised to hear a quiet ‘thank you’ just for your ears as Jungkook tightened his hold briefly.
“I really dislike that girl,” Jin said, “I for one will be glad to not see her trashy ass around the apartment anymore. You are a breath of fresh air, Y/N.”
You smile shyly at Jin, enjoying how well everyone seemed to have welcomed you into their group.
“So, Y/N, we were just talking about the party Yoongi was throwing. He and Hobi live together, and they’re throwing a small rager this weekend. You’re coming with JK, right?”
Oh, this was not something you were expecting. You hadn’t gone to a party with co-workers in a long time…
“Um—”
“Of course she’ll be there, she’s coming with me. Right, babe?” Jungkook’s doe eyes looked up at you and you couldn’t say no. It’s not like you had plans anyways. You nodded and smiled at him, and he leaned into you, lips seeking yours in a quick kiss. You feel your body react to it, like it had been doing since this started, and pulled back before he could turn it X-rated.
“Okay, seriously you two, get a room.”
—
Standing in the mirror in your bedroom, you turned from side to side to take in your outfit. As a head wardrobe stylist, you had a pretty good sense of fashion, but liked to stick to basic pieces and blacks, dressing up your look with delicate jewelry or layered pieces.
Tonight was no different. With the beginnings of winter creeping in, you wanted to be comfortable in the weather once the sun set. You had on black sheer leggings that disappeared into a cute black skirt with thin white lines that had a revealing thigh split. Your top was an asymmetrical design, having one long sleeve and turning into a bandeau style on the other side. You paired it with black velvet boots that had crisp white laces, then finished the look with a matching set of simple dangling skinny diamond earrings, bracelet, and necklace.
Despite this thing with Jungkook being fake, you wanted him to still feel proud to showcase you on his arm at this party. People were already talking about the two of you, and tonight would fuel the gossip even more. You were nervous of course, knowing who typically attended these types of parties, but Jungkook had assured you that he would keep you safe tonight.
The polite knock on your bedroom door had you turn your head to the sound, a tossed “come in” over your shoulder to who you thought was Yuna, but revealed a very handsome looking Jungkook, who was in his typical all black attire. You stood there, body warming as you took in his height, broad shoulders, and long legs.
“Wow.”
His voice was low, but his eyes looked like they sparkled as he took you in.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Jeon,” you responded, reaching to grab your bag off of your bed.
Jungkook snapped out of the daze he was in and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Let’s take a photo for the ‘gram.”
You nodded; for a second you thought he wanted to have a photo of you because you looked good. Posing in the mirror, he pulled you close by your waist and adjusted his phone to capture both of you in the frame. He took a few photos, switching poses slightly each time.
“Hey,” he said, gaining your attention. You turned to him, shocked when his lips met yours. You melt easily into the kiss, hearing the camera shutter click several times as you tangled tongues, his hand sliding from your waist to cup your butt and pull you closer. You were unable to stop the moan from his action, and when he pulled away, lips a bit fuller and pinker from kissing, he quirked his eyebrow at you, paired with his signature smirk.
“Y-You messed up my lip gloss,” you fake huffed, turning away from him to rummage through your bag to grab your gloss and reapply. Your attempt to avoid him from seeing the way he affected you didn’t go unnoticed, but Jungkook kept quiet on it.
“It was worth it, these pics are hot. Plus, you taste good. What flavor is that?”
“Strawberry,” you mumbled, still feeling the heat from the kiss warm your neck and face.
“Strawberry is slowly becoming my new favorite.”
—
Yoongi and Hobi knew how to throw a party. The music was playing at the perfect level that you could still hear people talking to you, a variety of alcoholic beverages were supplied in ample amounts, and several games were being held in various rooms of their home.
Currently, you were seated on the couch with a few other women from the office. Unfortunately, one of them was Somin. Across the room, your ‘boyfriend’ was engaged in a game of beer pong against Taehyung and Jimin. They had challenged him solo, citing he was good at everything and didn’t need a partner. As you watched him toss the small ping pong balls into the same cup, you knew their concern was right.
“Y/N, you and Jeon?” Seline, one of the girls seated next to you, asked suggestively.
“Yea,” you giggled, the cup of something or other making you a little... giggly.
“Color me a little surprised. He’s like, such a social butterfly, and you’re...”
“Oh, Y/N used to be a social butterfly, but she thought she was too good for us back in college.” Somin piped up.
Her statement caught you off guard. Somin was once your best friend, but when she started dating Jungkook, she had distanced herself from you, not the other way around.
“I never thought that. Some people act differently once they start dating people though. I never changed.” You sat back with a huff, crossing your arms. She ruined the buzz the alcohol had given you.
Seline leaned closer to you, interested to hear more. The other’s seated nearby also tuned in with interest.
“Oh, you knew them in college?”
You nodded, and Somin got up and walked away from the couch, seemingly annoyed at the attention you were getting for being Jungkook’s new girl.
You told the brief backstory of your friendship, leaving out the obvious part of losing virginities and finding out your best friend confessed to Jungkook when you were on your way to do the same thing, but ending it on good terms, saying that it was just the process of naturally growing apart.
Seline nodded, and you saw her eyes widen as she looked past you. Following her gaze, your eyes narrowed at the view. Somin was all over Jungkook. You weren’t exaggerating; both of her hands were holding on to him as if she was too drunk to maintain her balance. She was falling into his arms and he was holding her, one of his large hands pushing her hair back from her face and a look of concern etched upon his own.
Two feelings hit you at once. Nausea at the sight of him looking so tenderly at her, simultaneous with a boiling fury of jealousy that it wasn’t you.
“Looks like Somin wants him back.” Seline snickered towards the other girls, and you stood up abruptly. You made eye contact with Jimin, who’s eyes were unnaturally large as he registered the scene before him.
Jimin was relieved that Somin interrupted the end of the game so that he could escape before he had to drink more, but he also felt annoyed seeing her all over Jungkook. Jimin had been glad when Jungkook told him and Tae that he was done with Somin; even more glad when he heard that Jungkook started seeing you.
Back in college, Jimin was the only person, other than you and Jungkook, who knew what happened between you two. Both of you had confided in him your actions and feelings for one another. Color him surprised when he found out that Jungkook was not dating you, but instead your best friend, Somin. He wasn’t sure what happened but soon after, you stopped being around as much and Somin was around all the time.
Watching Somin pretend to be too drunk to function and fall all over Jungkook made Jimin purposefully search the room for you. Watching you stand, drink clutched in your hand, Jimin had a feeling something was about to happen.
The drink you were nursing was downed in its entirety within a single swallow. You were now several drinks in, and you were feeling the alcohol start to hit as you stood up fast. Pushing your shoulders back, you walked over towards your ‘boyfriend’, whose back was turned towards you, and slid your arm around his waist.
“Heyyy babe,” you leaned into his body, staking claim on Jungkook as you stared daggers at Somin. She had taken a few steps back when you had approached, but now, seeing the challenge in your eyes, she stepped closer once more.
“Ggukk-ah, I don’t feel so well...”
“Min,” Jungkook stepped out of your hold, hands moving to cup Somin’s face as she feigned weakness in her knees. The level of concern in his voice let you know exactly how he felt. You scoffed, not believing Jungkook would behave this way in front of everyone. He was the one who had came up with this idea for ‘mutual benefit’ and here he was fucking it all up.
“She’s fine, babe. She can handle her alcohol.” You felt yourself growing hotter, the alcohol actually having an effect on you, as it always had. Your increasing body temperature only made you more frustrated.
“Seriously Gguk, I’m getting so hot...” Somin reached for the hem of her shirt, and in one fell swoop she had exposed the lacey bra she wore underneath. You could hear people talking over the sound of the music, taking in the scene of a shirtless ex making a brazen show.
“Jungkook!” Your voice is no more than a harsh whisper, but he’s so scandalized at Somin’s action, the protective boyfriend in him coming out to aid in shielding her body from onlookers, he doesn’t hear you.
You hate the sick feeling bubbling in your stomach, unsure if it's from watching your ‘man’ flirt with his half naked ex or if it’s from the alcohol not sitting right with you.
Throwing the scene one last look, you turned on your heels and headed off to the kitchen for a bottle of water, or perhaps, another cup of something stronger.
Walking past him and Taehyung, Jimin caught sight of the look on your face before you blew past on your way towards the kitchen and he knew he should warn his friend.
“Jungkook, hey.. Jungkook!” Jimin yelled, his voice louder the second time he called his name.
Jungkook had been leaning towards Somin, hands cradling her face as he continued to speak quietly to her. When he looked up at Jimin, his face appeared slightly annoyed at the interruption as he was taking care of her.
“What, bro?”
“Um, your girlfriend? Y/N? She just went into the kitchen and she looked a little upset.” Jimin said, his face trying to communicate to Jungkook what it looked like that he was holding his ex that way and his new girlfriend had stormed off.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Jimin, can you?” Jungkook gestured his head towards the kitchen and Jimin thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.
“How about I take Somin and you go find Y/N? Your girlfriend. Remember?”
Jungkook paused for a millisecond before depositing Somin into Jimin’s arms. He made his way to the kitchen, where he found you engaged in taking shots with Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jin, the latter of which was shit talking Somin with a smile. When you felt his presence enter the kitchen, you ignored him, gesturing for your now fourth shot in as many minutes.
Sensing the tension, Yoongi decided against more shots, instead leading Hobi and Jin out of the kitchen, much to Jin’s complaints of having to be around the ‘trashy tramp’. The three headed back to the party, a bottle tucked under Yoongi’s arm as Hobi carried the shot glasses out.
“We were enjoying our new friend, JK. Stop keeping her to yourself,” Jin said with a drunken glare.
Sighing audibly, you turned to walk out of the kitchen but Jungkook’s grasp on your wrist stopped you.
“Hey, why are you ignoring me like this?” He asked, confusion tinting his voice.
“Um, maybe because you’re supposed to be dating me and you were too busy with Somin to remember you even had a girlfriend.” You said back harshly, spitting the words at him with such vehemence you wobbled precariously on your heels.
“Come here.” Jungkook said, dragging you behind him through the bodies in the hallway until you had made it into one of the unoccupied back bedrooms. Shutting the door, he turned to you as he dragged his hand through his hair. The action only made him more handsome, tousled hair falling gently to frame his face.
“Look, it’s... complicated with Somin right now.”
“I get that you’re trying to teach her a lesson, see if you want to be with her or whatever, but not at my expense. You said mutually beneficial. Making me look like your second choice and embarrassing me does not benefit me.”
During your speech, you poked him in the chest several times, the alcohol starting to take its effect on you. Stumbling slightly, Jungkook caught you to steady you, keeping his hands on your waist. The warmness of his palms felt nice as he helped keep you balanced.
“You’re right, Y/N. I’m sorry. Like I said, it’s complicated. We dated for a long time. I still care for her. She’s... been making this difficult.”
“Oh? Difficult how? By faking being drunk so you can take care of her?”
“She’s a lightweight, that’s not fake,” he defended.
You were once close enough with Somin to know that she was not a lightweight, since she had been drinking at parties since she was 14; her earlier interaction was indeed, all an act.
“Whatever, Jungkook. So what is she doing that’s so difficult?” you asked, cutting him a look of narrowed eyes until he answered you.
He walked backwards, tugging you gently along until he was seated on the bed. You stood between his parted knees, waiting patiently for his answer. Realizing you weren’t going to drop it, he rubbed the back of his neck gingerly.
“She’s, you know.. She still texts me all the time, saying shit and sending pics and stuff. She says she wants me back, but I just,” he looked up at you, his doe eyes unable to hide his emotions.
“I don’t know if I believe it. I want to. But she’s hurt me, and I’m tired of it. I want her to feel how I felt.”
Your ire towards him faded as he opened up to you. Cupping his face gently, you leaned in and rubbed his nose with yours softly back and forth.
“You’re amazing Jungkook. Until tonight, you’ve treated me like a princess the entire week we’ve been dating. But she won’t learn if you give in. You’ve got me now, okay? When she texts you, text me instead. Don’t entertain her. She’ll think I’m not enough for you if you keep responding, and that doesn’t show her you can move on.”
You had sunk into him the whole time you talked to him, and he shifted your body so you were now straddled over his lap, head resting on his shoulder. You yawned sleepily, the loss of the anger leaving you feeling the tired effects of the alcohol. Unlike Somin, you were a lightweight, and 3 shots was over your limit.
As you got comfortable on Jungkook, he thought over what you said, smoothing your hair carefully.
“You’re right. You always were so smart in school... ” Jungkook said, and you nodded your head on his shoulder in agreement, humming an affirmative.
“Let’s get you home though, you’re halfway to passing out anyways.” Pulling out his phone, he ordered an Uber. He held you like that, your strawberry scent surrounding him until the Uber driver was outside. His hands gripping you under your thighs, he stood up and carried you out of the party, nodding bye to his friends and hosts of the party.
Placing you into the Uber, he climbed in after you and you curled into his lap, seeking his warmth in your drunken half-slumber. Jungkook chuckled, noticing the way his chest reacted to the action but ignored it. This was an arrangement, you seeking him out wasn’t real, and your anger earlier wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. You were worried about being embarrassed. He still loved and wanted to get back with Somin, right?
As he looked down at you in his lap, enjoying the weight of you pressed against his body, he wasn’t so sure.
“This the correct address, sir?” The Uber driver asked, verifying with Jungkook once he shut the SUV door.
“Yea, both of us are headed there.”
—
The weekend passed by fast. Waking up at Jungkook’s place Sunday morning had been a little shocking, but his bed was soft and clean, and smelled of him. You had snuggled deeper into the sheets until he woke you up to go get breakfast and get his car from Yoongi’s place. He detailed to you what had transpired to you being in his bed, expressed that he had not taken advantage of you, per rule number 7, plus the basic concept of consent, and promised to take you home as soon as Jin was awake and could take the two of you to go get his car.
He gave you some clothes to change into, and while you weren’t surprised to find he had jeans to fit you, neither one of you asked or shared the obvious: they were Somin’s. At least the shirt he gave you was his, and you also stole a hoodie to wear. December may have only just started a week ago, but the cold was pervasive.
Breakfast with him was fun. Getting to know Jungkook again was just as exhilarating as it had been the first time, during that first year at BHSMA. He had changed, but in a good way. More mature, but still playful. An adult who was a hotshot photographer, but still humble and considerate. How someone could be built like that and have such a big soft heart was beyond you.
The trip to get his car was slightly awkward, as Jin, Jungkook’s very nosy roommate, commented on how bad drunk sex must be with Jungkook if you were able to keep so quiet.
“Somin was always so loud, I swear she was exaggerating. No one’s dick is that good; sorry JK.”
Once Jin dropped the two of you off at Yoongi and Hobi’s, it ended up turning into hanging out with them for a bit, talking about work and your relationship with Jungkook. Hobi swooned with oohs and ahhs while Yoongi cringed, faking disgust at such a cute story, as was his trademark.
Jungkook apologized once the two of you escaped to his car, for both Jin being cringey, and for staying longer than anticipated with Yoongi and Hoseok, but you weren’t mad. You enjoyed meeting his friends and getting to know them. You were only a little concerned because Yoongi was also friends with Namjoon, who worked in the same department as him.
Jungkook turned to you before you climbed out of the car, not wanting to say goodbye just yet, but unable to think of a reason to get you to stay. Afterall, the relationship was fake.
“Hey, thanks for your advice last night.”
“Honestly, I barely remember what it was, but if it helped you, I’m glad.” You smiled at him, and he had to blink a few times to remember what else he wanted to say.
“So, um—I was thinking we could go on, like, a formal date Monday? After work? Monday should be a chill day. I know the comeback is planned for January, so going out sooner than later is best, right? Get it out of the way? That way we won’t forget, and we won’t be too busy with work to try and squeeze it in, and—”
Jungkook knew he was rambling, feeling nervous despite it being you, someone he had known for several years now. For fucks sake, he’s seen you naked. He felt his cock twitch and internally scolded himself. This was not the time for remembering the way you felt beneath him, the sweet sounds he had pulled from you as he learned your body, shared with you in giving each other your virginities.
When his cock twitched again, he took a deep breath and tried to focus on your answer.
“You okay, Jeon?” you asked, noticing he had zoned out slightly.
“Yeah... ” he responded, shifting as if uncomfortable.
“Well, I said I would love to go on a date with you. What did you have planned?”
“It’s a surprise. Just dress for the weather.”
You nodded thoughtfully, a small smile gracing your face as you gathered your purse and stepped back out of the doorway of his car to shut it. He rolled the window down, smiling back at you.
“Can’t wait,” you say, standing outside his car on the sidewalk through the rolled down window, waving your fingers at him cutely.
Jungkook’s signature smile spread across his face as he winked at you just before he pulled off, turning his music up loud as he whipped his Benz out of your complex.
—
Now sitting at your desk, you clicked through the selected shots that Jungkook emailed you of the photo shoot from last week as you reminisced on the weekend. You were supposed to be checking the outfits, detailing the different designers for the credits. But your thoughts kept drifting to Jungkook, and what should have easily been a 15 minute task took 45.
Finally sending the email, you stood to stretch when a loud knock announced a visitor. Walking to the frosted door of your office, you opened it and revealed a large bouquet of tiger lilies.
“Delivery for Y/N Y/L/N,” Kim, one of your assistants sing-songed as she walked into the room.
“Where did you get this? And why?” You searched the flowers until you found the card inside.
“I’m not supposed to give any details other than to read the note!” She pranced away, a smug smile on her face for knowing the secret you wanted to know.
Opening the envelope, a small polaroid fell out, fluttering to the ground. You picked it up, noting the image of a small park nearby. At the bottom, in Jungkook’s neat writing was a time. 2:30PM. Glancing at the clock, you see that the time listed is in roughly 15 minutes, so you gathered your purse, plucked a flower from the bouquet and headed out to meet Jungkook.
Walking into the elevator, Namjoon suddenly entered just before the doors shut, trapping you inside with him.
“Why are you avoiding me?” He asked. You studied him, momentarily at a loss for words at his ambush.
“Joonie, I—I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been busy...”
“Too busy for your best friend? Jennie left me, and now I feel like I’m losing you too.”
Hearing his voice crack as he mentioned his ex hurts you more than you let him know. In all of the panic of the secret sex journal being released and fake dating Jungkook, you had forgotten what Namjoon had been going through.
“I promise, you’re not losing me, Joonie. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry that I haven’t been acting like it. I swear, I have been busy.”
“Yeah, busy going to parties with your new boyfriend. I saw him carrying your wasted ass out of Yoongi’s house.” Namjoon sounded a little irritated as he spoke.
“Listen, it’s complicated.. Can we talk about this later, please? It’s not a conversation for the elevator.”
“Okay, where are you going? I’ll go with you.” The doors opened and you both stepped out, Namjoon following you like a lifeline.
“Joonie, I—Look, I’m going on a date with Jungkook, I’m sorry!” you halted your steps and explained to him as a look of hurt flashed across his face.
“You know what? Forget it. Hit me up when you remember your best friend, if I’m even that.”
Namjoon walked away from you, ignoring you as you called after him. You sighed, giving up as he disappeared around a corner of the lobby, guests and coworkers looking at the exchange with interest.
You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath before braving the cold to walk to Ttukseom Park.
The walk was surprisingly pleasant. Despite the temperature, the sun was warm on your face whenever you were able to evade the shade along the sidewalk. It may have been the very beginnings of winter, but the scenery was anything but the cold melancholy you tended to associate with this time of the year.
The grass was vibrant still, and as you made it to the spot that matched the small photo you still had clutched in your hand, you noticed how the butterfly art installation along the wall of the J-Bug Cultural Complex glittered in the sunlight seeping in. Jungkook was seated on a bench right underneath the art with his trusty camera hanging from his neck, a picnic basket next to him.
“This is beautiful,” you said in awe, taking in the entire view. Jungkook followed your gaze, humming his agreement before picking up his camera. You heard the shutter of the camera several times. You looked over to him glancing at the small screen on the device before adjusting the lens and taking several more.
“Have you never seen this?” He said as he stood and grabbed the basket. You stood as well and followed him, falling into step beside him as he walked out from the shade and into the grassier area.
You shook your head no. “Don’t really have the time I guess. I’ve always wanted to explore the J-Bug though; Namjoon said the museums all along the Hangang are amazing.”
“I’ve taken photos at several of the murals nearby, they’re some of my favorite locations actually.” He smiled at you, and you can’t help the way your heart squeezes. He nodded his head to an area that had a decent amount of sunlight to combat the winter chill.
“Yea, I remember seeing some of them in your office. You’re really talented Kookie, I remember how passionate you were about photography even back then.” You helped spread the blanket he produced from the basket and once seated you leaned back on your palms, eyes closed.
Jungkook looked at you, taking in the way the midday sun made you glow, how pretty your lashes looked leaving shadows across your content cheeks. He couldn’t hold back the smile that took over his face upon hearing you use the endearment he hadn’t heard since that night so long ago.
“Ah, yeah, but my photography wasn’t that good then.”
“Stop being so humble, the photos you took were amazing, even then.”
You opened your eyes, catching him staring at you, and you felt yourself grow self-conscious.
“What? Is there something on my face?”
“Oh—uh, no sorry, it was just the sun—you know, lighting and all.” He gestured to his camera.
“Ah, I guess the talented eye never rests. Though I don’t know why you would want pictures of me,” you laughed and Jungkook tapped your knee in reproach.
“You’re a pretty good subject, don’t downplay yourself.”
You nodded, looking in the basket to hide the way your cheeks had warmed at his comment.
“Seriously, Y/N, I used to want to take photos of you all the time back then... you should’ve seen my camera roll. It was embarrassing. Jimin used to tease me all the time.” Jungkook helped you set up his small spread of food and you used the meal as a distraction.
“Ooh, did you prepare all of this?”
“Ah, some of it,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had some help from Jin hyung.”
“It smells delicious.” You took the proffered chopsticks from his large hand and dug into the bowl of japchae before placing it on your rice to gather for one bite; Jungkook followed suit.
The rest of the lunch date went incredibly well. Jungkook was just like you remembered him to be, except he was more filled out, and a little taller with a jawline that could cut glass. But his humor, his compassion, his deep thoughts that led you to fall for him all those years ago were still painfully there. Spending more time with him one on one did nothing but show you that the feelings you once had for him were still easily accessible.
As he led you back to the office, his hand swinging yours between your bodies, you couldn’t help but wish this was real. How nice it would be to just pretend that Jungkook really was yours, allow those creeping feelings to spread like spring, blooming across your chest until it was vibrant and unforgettable. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like after; after when you were single again and Jungkook had either gotten back with Somin or moved on to someone else.
“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook squeezed your hand. You hadn’t even noticed that you were not only back at the office, but standing at the door to your locked office.
“Oh, sorry. Honestly, that lunch date was just so nice… It felt good to get out and do something different for a change.”
“Oh, well yea, I remembered you used to like stuff like this, I figured you probably still did.”
You nodded, hope blooming.
“Take a look at this post, let me know if it’s okay.”
He handed you his phone, and you admired the way he had caught you off guard, a photo that looked like it could be moving, the way your hair frames your face as you looked longingly off into the distance. The caption was simple. “It’s not about where you go or what you have, it’s about who you’re with along the way.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Okay, post it then. And post a few more pics of me on your page too? I’ve been posting and tagging you...”
If you didn’t know any better, you would think that Jungkook sounded… upset? You nodded as you clicked the post button, and as it loaded, the phone vibrated in your hand. Thinking it was a like or a comment on the image of you, you glanced at it. His phone had locked by this time, and instead of seeing notifications for Instagram, you saw a message notification instead.
Handing him back his phone, you push down that blooming sensation. It would be foolish to think Jungkook was upset that you hadn’t posted him as much as he had posted you. Clearly he must’ve spent time with Somin after he dropped you off yesterday.
“You got a message. Umm, I’m gonna finish up here and then head home, you don’t need to wait for me. See you tomorrow?”
You wanted to get away from him desperately. Jungkook looked at you, confused at your sudden shift in mood.
“I thought I was driving you home? Jin said he was staying out late tonight, I figured we could hang out for a few—”
“We’ll see! There’s still so much to do for the album release.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek chastely before unlocking your office door and all but disappeared inside of it.
Jungkook stood there, staring at your closed door for a few more seconds before he felt his phone buzz in his hand. Checking his notifications, he saw a series of texts from Somin.
Looking around confused, he noticed Somin standing across the office area, a deadly smirk on her face as she waved her phone at Jungkook. All Jungkook could do was sigh. Somin wouldn’t leave him alone long enough to sort out his thoughts, and now she was sending purposefully misleading texts? Jungkook didn’t know how to explain to you that what you saw was untrue.
You clearly believed it.
—
Jungkook gave you two days of space before he decided to track you down. He always hated that Somin would know he was upset (typically because it was her fault) and immediately pounce on him, forcing her company upon him and not allowing him the ability to forgive and move on. He wanted to give you that time, so after two days, Jungkook felt that it had been long enough, and the two of you should reconcile whatever misunderstanding there had been.
You posted a photo with him yesterday, and from the caption you wrote it appeared like you had a fun time with him on Monday despite the way you left him standing at your office door.
The image you posted on your Instagram with Jungkook was a candid shot; he hadn’t realized you had taken a photo. While it brought about that warm feeling in his chest seeing the photo appear in his feed, it didn’t clearly depict his face.
Instead, the focus was on your fingers intertwined. Jungkook’s profile could be seen, blurred from lack of focus, but it matched the caption you had chosen so well. “Even if someone shakes this world, please don’t ever let go of this hand you’re holding...”
Motivated, Jungkook made sure to be bright and early at your door ready to drive you and your sister.
You weren’t expecting to see the flashy Benz outside of your apartment. Yuna was excited to not have to take public transportation, leaving you behind as she all but ran to the passenger rear door.
“Morning JK! We missed you these past few days.”
“Ah, sorry about that, I had to be at the office way earlier; didn’t want to make you guys wake up even earlier than you already do.”
Yuna waves off the apology and you finally followed; feet moving across the pavement until you’ve climbed into the car and buckled your seatbelt.
“Morning princess,” Jungkook says, leaning towards you and pecking your lips. You were caught off guard, not expecting him to be so lovey, but you returned the kiss, a double peck that you started and continued on as the traditional way you greeted each other.
“Morning.”
“Didn’t sleep well?”
“Yea, been a bit out of it these past few days...” You trailed off, not wanting to talk about it in front of Yuna. Catching on, Jungkook turns up the music and shifts into drive, pulling off towards the University for Yuna.
The drive to the office isn’t too long from the school, so once Yuna was out, Jungkook wasted no time in asking you to talk.
“So, can we talk about Somin?”
You huffed out a sigh. It was too early in the morning to deal with the Somin issue, but you nodded, allowing Jungkook to breach the topic.
“I know you saw her message. I want you to know that nothing happened. She sent that text because she saw us. She was doing the same bullshit she always does, part of the reason I don’t think she’s learned anything yet, like you said.”
You nodded, still not sure what to believe. He had no reason to lie to you, it’s not like you were actually in a relationship. He could go back to Somin anytime.
“I hate that you’re mad at me.”
You turned your body towards him.
“I—Look, I’m not mad, okay? Not at you. I just hate that Somin gets under my skin so much. That she’s a bitch to you. Neither of us deserve it, especially you.”
Jungkook reached over, encasing your hand in his.
“I’m learning that now. We’ve been together so long, I never noticed at first what she was doing. But I think subconsciously, it was making me resent her. And you really said some shit that had me thinking. And you’re right. I—I’m really glad to have you back in my life, Y/N. Having you in my corner has made all the difference.”
You looked down, eyes staring at the tattooed hand to hide the warmth on your face.
“After work, come over. Let me buy us dinner and we can hang out.” You felt his smile as he stared at you while pausing at the red light before your office, and you met his gaze.
“Okay.”
“Good, we need to make Jin believe we’re having hot, loud sex, since rule 7 prevents you from experiencing the real thing.”
He let out a shout of pain as you punched his shoulder.
—
Walking to get food was not the smartest idea for 3 reasons. First, because neither of you checked the weather. Second, due to number one, neither of you had an umbrella. So naturally, third, running in the rain while carrying takeout was almost a disaster.
And still, the two of you laughed the entire way, bag clutched in one arm while your fingers were intertwined between your sprinting bodies, one block left to get to Jungkook’s apartment. By the time he’s unlocked the door, you're both sopping wet, rain water dripping onto the floor of the entryway to the apartment. After getting the food situated to stay warm while you guys got cleaned up, Jungkook gave you a towel and led you to his bathroom.
You appreciated that he was such a clean guy, his apartment and subsequently, the bathroom was pristine, and he actually had a trashcan and stocked toilet paper, unlike some men you knew. He planted folded clothes for you to change into on top of the sink counter, and surprised you with a kiss.
“What was that for?” You asked, dazed.
“Practice.” He said with a wink, and he backed away, closing the door as he left you alone.
—
While Jungkook showered, you heated up the food, your mostly dried hair now up in a messy bun as you danced around his kitchen. His sweats were a little (a lot) too long, so you had rolled them up so you could avoid tripping.
A knock at the door made you jump, before you moonwalked over to the entryway, now clean of the rain water the two of you had trudged in. Thinking it was Jin, you didn’t check to see who it was and opened the door. You froze as you took in a young man that was not your ‘boyfriend’s’ broad shouldered roommate. Instead, doe-eyes similar to the man currently naked in the shower stared back at you.
“Oh, hey… I thought my brother lived here. Sorry about that!” The man stepped back, checking the number on the apartment again before his eyes landed on your shirt—or rather, his brother’s shirt.
“You’re not Somin...”
“Hi, and no, I’m not,” you laughed, “um, but this is Jungkook’s apartment.”
“Ahh, okay. I’m JungHyun. His older brother.”
“Oh! Come in!” You stepped back so that he could walk past you, and you led him into the living room once he had shed his shoes.
“Oh, did I interrupt dinner?”
“Oh, no we haven’t even started eating yet. No worries.”
The two of you sat down, and you tucked your feet up under your bottom, turning to face Jungkook’s older brother.
“So, I know who you’re not...”
“Oh, fuck, manners.” The look on your face is sheepish, and you smiled to cover your nerves. “I’m Y/N, Kookie’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, you’re the famous Y/N! Finally got you, did he?”
His words confused you, Jungkook had been with Somin since forever, when had he ever wanted you? Smiling to cover your confusion, you’re saved when Jungkook appears in the hallway, a loud laugh as he barreled over to his brother and all but jumped on the man.
“Hyung! What are you doing here?!”
“Oh, I finished that project at work early, so I’m headed to visit mom and dad. Staying with them through Christmas before the next contract at work starts.”
“Ah, it’s good to see you!”
Jungkook’s enthusiasm is abundant; it’s clear he loves his brother dearly and misses him. He pulled back from a hug and sat comfortably in the space between you and JungHyun, his palm resting lightly on your leg absentmindedly.
“So, I’ve met your new girlfriend. I must say you didn’t do her justice when you described her to me.”
You felt the blush creep across your face, and Jungkook also seemed to turn red, his fingers rubbing at the skin on his neck.
“Yea, seeing her in person is best.” He says awkwardly, and you can’t help but laugh.
“So? Does dad know? Mom is gonna be so excited. She hated Somin.”
“What?” Jungkook says at the same time that you say “Really?”
JungHyun nodded, sitting back into the couch comfortably.
“Yea, no offense, lil bro, but Somin was a bitch. Mom thought she was so fake.”
“Wh-why didn’t you guys ever say anything?”
“Eh, you know, cause you were in love or whatever.”
You get up and go to the kitchen, grabbing bowls and the last of the heated food, hoping to avoid being present for this part of their conversation, but still curious all the same.
“Definitely not.”
“Mmhmm, sure.”
“Seriously. I wasn’t actually in love. Or if I was, it faded. I think for a lot of it I was just… dependent or whatever. I thought it was love, sure. But it wasn’t; I know that now.”
“Ah, so Y/N showed you what love is?”
“She definitely cares more about me and my happiness than Somin ever has.”
You cleared your throat as you walked back into the living room.
“Ready to eat?”
Dinner with Jungkook and JungHyun is, in so many words, fun. They bantered and joked and you spend the time eating and laughing, enjoying your time with the brothers. You didn't even realize how late it had gotten, not until Jin waltzed into the apartment, noting the late hour for you all to be chatting so loud.
“Shit, Yuna messaged me an hour ago.”
“Just stay here. We can pick Yuna up in the morning when you go home to change.”
“Are you sure? Your brother’s visiting, I don’t want to be in the way.”
“Y/N, don’t worry, I’ll take the couch. I was going to anyway.” JungHyun smiled at you, and you nodded back. Standing up, you stretched, not realizing how tired you were. Jungkook took the opportunity to tickle your exposed sides, and you squealed, causing the brothers to laugh as you squirmed away from Jungkook, who didn’t let you get far.
“Let’s get you to bed, princess.”
Turning in Jungkook’s arms, you looked over his shoulder at his brother.
“Good night, oppa.”
Jungkook stiffened as JungHyun and Jin laughed, enjoying the way the youngest one reacted to your words.
“Ah, if it doesn’t work out between you two, hit me up.”
“Hyung!” Jungkook glared at his brother, not enjoying the joke.
“What? At least she wouldn’t need to meet our parents twice! She is coming for Christmas, right?”
The two of you looked at each other, a little thrown off by the question. The holidays were coming up, but you hadn’t discussed this far into the relationship. It wasn’t real after all, did you have to go through such lengths to teach Somin a lesson?
“I haven’t told mom and dad yet about her...”
“No worries, I text them ages ago. They’re expecting her for Christmas.”
Jungkook sighed, dropping his forehead to yours, so all you could see was his eyes staring into yours.
“Is this okay? Do you wanna, you know? Meet my parents?” Jungkook’s voice was low as he whispered the question.
“I—Yes.”
The look on his face when you agreed was beautiful, a scrunched-nose smile that is reminiscent of a bunny. You couldn’t help but smile back, lost in the mahogany of his eyes.
“Are you guys over there kissing when I’m waiting for an answer?” JungHyun broke the tension filling the air between you and his brother.
Jungkook smirked before capturing your lips with his own, a breathless kiss that lasted only a couple seconds before he pulled away to smirk at his brother.
“You can tell mom and dad I’ll be bringing her home for Christmas.” With those words, Jungkook whisked you down the hall and tucked you into his bed before climbing in behind you. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you closer to him. His hands skimmed your body before he began tickling you again, a squeal leaving your mouth. You retaliated, hands attempting to tickle him before he pinned you to the bed, and the two of you began to wrestle for a bit.
You were unaware of how sexual the wrestling sounded; his headboard hitting the wall roughly and the two of you grunting and groaning as you fought for dominance, some added squeals and moans when Jungkook decided it was a good idea to bite you in his quest for submission. Finally winded, you gave in, laying back on the mattress in defeat. Jungkook tugged at your sweatpants, removing them swiftly and throwing them onto the floor, his own joining the pile. He then grasped your face, peppering it with kisses.
You were about to ask him what he was doing, when someone knocked. Jungkook called out a ‘come in’ and his brother walked into the bedroom, his sights set on the bathroom.
“Don’t mind me, just gonna wash up before bed. It seemed safe to enter now.”
He disappeared into the bathroom as Jungkook continued to hold you, affectionate even after his brother was out of sight. Even if this relationship was fake, you could pretend in this moment that it was real, that Jungkook pulled you closer, not to fool his brother, but because he wanted to be close to you, that he was falling in love with you.
For one night, it should be okay to pretend it was something more, right?
—
The next two weeks passed by in a blur. Namjoon had basically confined himself to his studio at work, intent on avoiding you. Seeing you hand in hand with Jungkook seemed to bother him, and because you couldn’t tell him the truth (or wouldn’t), you left him to his own assumptions. He ignored all of your texts attempting to reach out to him, despite him saying he wanted you to let him know when you had time for him. This just made you more frustrated, and you were done trying to chase Namjoon, romantically or otherwise. When he was ready to behave like an adult, you would be willing to talk to him.
After telling Yuna about how you were asked to go home with Jungkook and meet his family, you received a call from your own parents. Yuna had told them about Jungkook, and you were bombarded with questions until you too agreed to bring Jungkook home.
It took some discussing, but it was finally decided: the 23rd and Christmas Eve would be with your family, and Christmas Day and the 26th would be with Jungkook’s. You were a little worried that the parents would be able to see through your ruse, despite having fooled everybody else at work, but Jungkook assured you that it would be easy enough to trick his parents.
On the train ride to Daegu, you sat a few rows away from your sister, who had her headphones in as she watched the latest K-Drama she missed due to her busy school schedule. The ‘arriving soon’ message plays throughout the cabins of the KTX, and you figure it’s important to bring up your parents.
Turning to Jungkook, who was drawing on his iPad, you removed an airpod from your ear, pausing the music. You take a moment and admire his face, the way his jawline was so angular, the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the concentration held in his eyes.
“Like what you see?” Jungkook’s voice is teasing, but you still felt embarrassed at being caught staring at him.
“I just think we should talk about the next 2 days.”
“Y/N, listen. Parents love me. Despite the tattoos and long hair.”
“Cause you’ve met so many parents? You’ve been dating Somin since we were 20.”
“My friends have parents too, you know. Don’t worry. Just be like we always are and it’ll be fine.”
“Your parents may be easy to trick, but mine? They’re a bit more… scrutinizing. Plus, they’ve heard me talk about Namjoon, and probably don’t remember me talking about you...” you trailed off, a slight warmth subtly coloring your cheeks.
“So you used to talk about me?”
“Well, yea, first year, you know? I had a crush on you, so my mom heard all about it. Not about—you know, but I told her I thought we might date.” You buried your nose in your phone to avoid looking at Jungkook.
“You know, you never told me why you nev—”
Jungkook’s words were cut off by an attendant walking through the aisle, asking everyone to start packing up their belongings as the train would be pulling into the DongDaegu Station momentarily.
“My dad should be here to pick us up—Yuna!” Your sister turned to you, a smile on her face as she waved her phone.
“Dad’s here!”
The drive to the house was short, and you spent most of the time taking turns with Yuna filling in your dad on your life in Seoul. Your mom was busy in the kitchen when you arrived, and she shooed you all upstairs to your rooms. Unsurprisingly, your parents were having you and Yuna share her room while Jungkook would be across the hall in your room.
Your parents were more conservative, and while you were an adult and perfectly able to do as you pleased in Seoul, while under their roof, they wanted to make sure that you remained as pure as they could keep you.
Dinner that first night went well. Jungook and your dad bonded over sports, despite Jungkook not playing any team sports, he was still well-versed on the topic and joined your dad in watching a basketball game while you, Yuna, and your mom cleaned up after dinner and then sat in the sewing room.
Your mom asked you all about Jungkook, which she surprisingly did remember you talking about. It seemed you had her and your father fooled, but while you sat at her embroidery machine, she shared she was confused about the lack of presents you had for each other to open tomorrow night. Saying it was because you still had to wrap them and she would find them under the tree tomorrow was an easy enough excuse, and paired with a very real yawn, you excused yourself to get ready for bed.
Sleeping with Yuna was uncomfortable; she was a wild sleeper. Restlessness won over sleep, so you got out of bed and made your way downstairs to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. Your parents were already in bed in their first floor room on the other side of the house from the kitchen and the stairs.
When you returned back upstairs, you noticed the light on in your bedroom, so you knocked softly.
“Come in,” Jungkook’s voice was subdued, and you pushed the door open gently.
“Hey,” you said, eyeing Jungkook’s lean, topless form as he sat at the edge of the bed. You never tired of the view when you would sleep over at his place.
“Can’t sleep?”
“Yea, Yuna isn’t the best person to sleep next to, flops around all night, hogs the sheets.”
You walk into the room, joining him on the bed. He’s swiping through images from the SeoulM8 shoots he’s recently done. You watched his finger move across the iPad leisurely.
“Ahh, sounds like you miss sleeping next to me.”
You scoffed, shoulder bumping into his.
“You snore a bit. And your body temperature runs pretty hot. I wake up sweating half the time.”
“Ah, not the first time I’ve made you sweat, love.”
You raise your eyebrow at his insinuation of your loss of virginity.
“Kidding, babe,” he jokes, locking his iPad and setting it down to charge on the bedside table.
“Can we go into town tomorrow? I want to do some last minute shopping.”
“Sure.” Jungkook yawned and you took that as your cue to leave so he could get some sleep after your journey across the country.
“Where ya going? I thought you couldn't fall asleep with Yuna?”
Jungkook pulled the covers back, making space for you to climb in in front of him.
“Well, yes, but my parents—”
“Sleep downstairs and wholly expect us to pretend to sleep apart but know that you’re going to sneak in here anyways because we’re madly in love.”
You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing loudly.
“And how do you know that?”
Jungkook smirked, still waiting for you to get into bed.
“You’re dad told me. He also said we need to give him grandchildren, sooner rather than later.”
Stunned silent, Jungkook leaned forward and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. He turned off the light and you climbed in over him, keeping him at the front just in case.
“C’mere,” he rolled over and pulled you to his chest, snuggling into you as he got comfortable. “We have to look madly in love. No funny business though. I know you think I’m irresistible, but we are in your parents house and must be respectful.”
You elbowed him in the rib, and settled into the comforting darkness of your childhood bedroom with Jungkook’s arm wound around your waist, holding you close.
——
Christmas Eve, in your family, is the night that presents are opened. As a child, this tradition was done in order to make room under the tree for Santa’s presents. As adults, your parents keep the tradition alive, instead putting stockings with 1 or 2 of the more expensive gifts for you to have on Christmas morning.
After shopping in town and spending time wrapping, you had finally placed a few gifts for Jungkook under the tree that Yuna was now passing out. You were surprised to see a couple gifts for you from Jungkook in the small pile you amassed, and when you caught his eye, he winked at you.
Yuna opened her gifts first, then you and Jungkook, where you saw that he gave you a matching jewelry set: necklace and earrings in a soft rose gold, a small cherry blossom bloom dangling from the small hoop of the earrings and from a small hoop on the necklace. It reminded you of your date at the park. The two of you sat under the winter sakura tree that day, the only blossoms that bloom twice a year, where you told him how much you loved cherry blossoms in passing.
“It’s beautiful, Jungkook.” You almost can’t believe it, but he just smiles softly at your gratitude and helps put the necklace on you. Your parents looked happy, enjoying seeing their daughter so happy. Jungkook was excited to see what you had gotten him; a special lens for his camera that he had talked on and on about purchasing soon. He was giddy, running upstairs to grab his camera, testing out the new lens on pictures of you and your family.
Once again, you found yourself in your old room, curled up with Jungkook, but this time you were unable to sleep. Rolling over, you faced Jungkook, who cracked one eye and peeked at you.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, voice laced with sleep. You noticed how easily the endearment rolled off his tongue even with no one around to convince.
“I—the gift you got me,” your fingers fidgeted with the small cherry blossom on the necklace. “I hope it didn’t cost too much. You can return it once we break up if you need to.”
“Y/N, that gift is for you. For being such a great… friend. Helping me do this. I really think it’s working.”
“You deserve to be happy Jungkook. I’m glad you were able to get space long enough to work out how you feel, and that you’re working your way to being happier.”
“Yea, I think I’ve been much happier lately...”
You watched his tongue run along his lips, and you couldn’t help but train your eyes on the movement. He caught your eyes, his hands gripped you a bit tighter as the tension in the dark room grew.
“...much happier...”
You weren’t sure who moved first, you or Jungkook, but at that point, it didn’t really matter. The way your lips sought his, the way his hands pulled you closer, the two of you were acting on instinct. This kiss wasn’t for practice or for show, who was to know what happened here, in this room tonight, but the two of you?
You let out a moan as he dipped his head lower, tracing kisses from your neck to what was exposed of your collarbone. His touch is impatient, tugging and kneading, unable to stay still on your body. His scent alone, a musky vanilla scent, engulfed your senses and you wanted… more.
You threw your leg over his body, turning the two of you until you’re straddled on top of him, able to press your core down onto his very firm cock. His boxers and your sleep shorts are the only things holding it back from assaulting you, and you’re annoyed that they’re in the way. Reaching down, you slide your hand roughly into the waistline of the boxers, fingers gripping him.
Jungkook groaned into your neck, the feel of your hand as you palm him building the craving he had for you. He wanted you. Not just physically. But you had those stupid rules, and he couldn’t just break them. He respected you more than that, and falling in love with you? Well that wasn’t part of the plan.
Jungkook slows the way he’s kissing you, slows the way he was thrusting into your hand and pushes you gently off of him and back to your side of the bed. You’re both panting, barely able to catch your breath as he pulled your back to his chest and held you close.
“We’ve got a long trip tomorrow morning to Busan, babe. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Oh… okay?” You were so confused. You had never been turned down before, especially not when you were so far into the act, practically ready to pull your panties to the side and ease him into you. You were throbbing, body aching with want, and you knew he was too; could feel the hardness as it nestled in the dip between your cheeks.
You felt him kiss your head, followed by a soft double peck to your neck, and not 10 minutes later his breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep.
You, on the other hand, laid awake, thoughts running wild.
——
Christmas morning you had an early breakfast with your family before opening stockings. Your parents had only a couple of weeks to prepare for Jungkook, but they had prepared a stocking for him as well; your mom embroidering his name onto it and stuffing it full to the brim.
You were surprised at the gifts; a couple boxes of polaroid film, a bag of banana kick chips, individually packaged egg snacks, and colorful candy canes. Yours were similar as well, a small collection of sewing items for designing, and your favorite snacks. Your mom ruffled Jungkook’s sleepy-head hair as he offered his thanks to your parents, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swoon at the sight. You realized something heartbreaking at that moment: breaking up with Jungkook once this was over would hurt more than just you.
Heading to Jungkook’s parents house was a different experience after the previous night. Yuna had obviously stayed with your parents, and would be catching the train back the same day you left Busan.
This was the first time the two of you had been alone since the rejection the night before, and you were doing your best to ignore the hurt feeling that would bloom every time you caught yourself dwelling on it. You focused on your phone instead, posting a few photos on Instagram so that you were sticking to your end of the deal. Somin would see these posts some way or another, and it would hopefully do what it was intended to.
Jungkook didn’t seem to think twice about the rejection, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and treating you like you were really together, a true couple going to meet his parents for the first time.
“Nervous?”
“A little. I’ll be meeting your parents, and we’re not really together,” you looked down at your hands, missing the way Jungkook’s face fell for a few seconds before working it’s way back to a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
“I think we’re together enough where it counts. No one watching us would doubt it,” he intertwined your fingers and gave it an encouraging squeeze, “sometimes even I forget you’re not my real girlfriend.” He laughed, and the sound leaves an ache in your chest.
“Same, haha...” You looked out the window of the KTX, ready to breathe the fresh air of the nearby sea. Jungkook released your hand and you both went back to your tasks, Jungkook reading emails and you sketching designs for work.
Jungkook’s parents treated you much like yours had treated Jungkook. Like you were the greatest thing to happen to their child.
“Y/N, you’re so pretty! Oh, thank heavens, we have a chance at cute grandchildren now.” Jungkook’s mom bowed her head in thanks to a higher power, and you couldn’t help feeling a little bad that you weren’t actually dating Jungkook. You would have liked to deserve the praise she was giving you.
“He looks so much happier, happier than we’ve seen him in a long time.” She smiled at his father and their eyes, so similar to their two sons, crinkled in the corners. JungHyun greeted you with a hug, and you reciprocated it.
“Hi, Oppa,” you teased, and Jungkook glared at you.
“Yah! That’s Jeon JungHyun to you,” he leaned closer to your ear in a mock whisper, “only I get called Oppa.”
JungHyun cringed back in mock disgust.
“I do not need to know about your ‘Oppa kink’ in the bedroom.” He shivered as he walked back to the living room, where he put away his laptop to make space for gifts.
Their dad, who you were very glad had not heard his eldest son’s comment, gestured to you to leave your suitcases in the entryway and come sit down.
“Kookie, pass out the gifts please. Your mom has been waiting all morning in excitement for you two to get here. We can have lunch after you guys get situated.”
Jungkook, ever the dutiful youngest son, began to distribute gifts amongst you all, while you handed your own gifts that you had gotten for his family out to them.
“You didn’t have to get them anything,” Jungkook whispered as he dropped a gift off for you from his own parents.
You gave him a pointed look, gesturing subtly to the gift.
“I did.”
He shook his head with a smile and continued until the space under the tree was empty.
“So, we just open them all at the same time! Save your thanks for the end, ready?” His dad looked at you, and you nodded.
“Let’s get it!” Jungkook shouted, and everyone laughed at his phrase as you began to open your gifts. You didn’t have many, one from his parents and JungHyun, and 2 from Jungkook. His family had given you a Pantone Color Swatch book that was easy to carry around, to help while on set working. It was very thoughtful, and you knew it could not have been cheap. You bowed deeply, on your knees and forehead to their floor as a show of your gratitude and respect.
They motioned for you to sit back up, waving off your thanks as if it was no big deal for them to get this gift for you. You turned to Jungkook’s gift, eyes already threatening tears at their sincere treatment of you, and once opened, you did cry.
Nestled inside a satin lined box was a beautiful set of Dwikkoji, traditional hair pins, that came with a small card identifying them as from the Joseon era.
“Jungkook!” you gasped, sure that they couldn’t be real.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t have to pay for them. But they would look much better displayed in your office as our head fashionista then collecting dust in storage.”
You couldn’t hold back your feelings any longer. Acting on instinct, you tugged him towards you, wrapping your arms under his own and around his frame as you let your tears fall.
“They’re beautiful, Kookie.”
Jungkook reciprocated your embrace, his hand smoothing down your hair as his parents smiled at the scene in front of them.
“Ah, young love, remember when that was us?”
—
Unlike your parents, who wanted to pretend that the two of you were a modest young couple, Jungkook’s parents assumed that the two of you would room together. His dad had clapped him on his shoulder and congratulated him on bringing home such a fine woman. Apparently in the two weeks that JungHyun had been home, he had raved about you to his parents, showing pictures from your social media accounts of the two of you together, as well as your fashion talent. Jungkook too had talked on the phone to his parents, you came to find out, which was why his parents were so enthralled by you, despite only dating Jungkook for a short time.
Lunch was fun. Spending time with the Jeons was full of laughter. His family was like him, generous and kind hearted, and you enjoyed spending time with his mom in the kitchen making cookies for dessert.
That night you went out for a drive to look at Christmas lights, before you all stopped off at the town center where they had outdoor ice skating set up. Jungkook had his camera with the new personalized strap you made him (yay fashion classes!) around his neck, taking photos of you and his family as you glided across the frozen water. You spent an hour there before heading home to warm up with hot cocoa and Christmas movies. You found out that this was their tradition every year, and it made you happy to know they wanted to share it with you. Even if it was only for this one Christmas.
Having showered first, you traveled down the hall to get water from the kitchen while you waited for Jungkook to finish his. His family had a one level house; His parents’ room was located on one side of the living room and kitchen, while Jungkook and his brother’s room was on the other side.
You heard his parents talking at the table and you slowed down, resting the back of your head on the wall as you heard them say your name.
“Oh, honey, Y/N is so darling! I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”
“He looks so in love with her.”
“Well, remember, he used to have the biggest crush on her.”
“But that was years ago. They were what, 20? And somehow he chose Somin?”
“Sometimes, people aren't ready. Now, they’re older. Better chances of them working out. Oh, honey, I hope they work out. She would be such a cute daughter in law.”
“I know, but don’t pressure them. Let them realize how in love with each other they are on their own.”
“Do you think she loves him too?”
“I don’t have a single doubt in my mind. I saw the way they were together.They’re in love, whether they realize it or not.”
“Ahh, so we could have grandchildren soon? JungHyun seems like he’s never going to settle down... ”
“Aish, grandchildren? I’m too young to be a grandpa!”
Instead of interrupting them, you headed back to his room, mind racing with their words. Jungkook had a crush on you? They thought the two of you were in love? Daughter in law? Jungkook chose that moment to come into the room, towel wrapped low around his waist as he checked his phone and you couldn’t look away.
“You’re starting to drool there, babe.”
You swallowed and looked away, grabbing your hair and running your fingers through it to put it into a bun on your head.
“I just uh—I wanted to talk to you about the contract.”
Jungkook, who was facing his dresser where his suitcase was opened up, froze. His eyes sought yours in the mirror, his reflection giving away nothing.
“Oh? What, uh, what about it?”
“Well, our parents seem to like us together, I mean, they’re talking about grandkids, and well, I would hate to break up so soon after having met them. I know this was only supposed to go on until you figured out what to do about Somin, but if it’s alright with you,” you look away, twisting your fingers in nervousness, “I would like for us to continue to date.”
Jungkook’s mind was racing. He understood what you meant. Your parents seemed to love him, discussing future visits for the holidays and his family had been no different. And thinking about ending the contract? Well, he had already been thinking about doing that. So he could date you, for real. Somin texted him while he was in the shower, upset about missing Christmas with his family. Jungkook thought that it would bother him, his first holiday without her, but he realized he couldn’t care less.
Somin treated him like a prize to be toted around and shown off. He was good for bragging; his face, body, high paying job, it all granted her status. She had no ambition to grow within the company, still a one act manager after graduating as an interning manager’s assistant. But you? God, you were different. You had ambition, you didn’t care about what Jungkook could provide for you, and you listened to him, to his dreams. You were thoughtful, appreciative, and everything you had done was to help him be happy. Even fake dating, while it benefitted you as well, you had gone above and beyond for him.
You stood up, walking closer to him where he was lost in his thoughts.
“Jungkook?” you intoned, your fingers softly settling on the back of his shoulder, waiting for his response.
“I think, yeah. I think that would be a good idea. My parents and brother love you.”
Your heart soared. He wanted to continue this. Not go back to Somin right away. He barely brought her up this whole trip. You felt giddy, hopeful that maybe one day, this could be something more.
“So then, it’s settled.”
Jungkook turned around, catching your hand before you could drop it back to your side.
“I think we should reexamine that contract, but tonight, I’d really like to say fuck it.”
Jungkook stepped into your space, and in a heart’s beat, he had ensnared your lips, his arms pulling you closer to him. Your own arms snaked up his body, hands pulling his head closer to you, your fingers playing with the wet strands at his nape. His kisses were fervent, lips almost rough as he pressed them to yours before he was swiping his tongue across the opening of your mouth, seeking entrance.
You groaned as you arched your back, seeking to deepen the kiss as you pressed higher on your tiptoes, wanting more of him. His palm skimmed your back down to your butt, where he applied pressure and lifted you with brute strength. You pulled away with a gasp, not expecting to be lifted up. He just looked at you with pupils blown, one eyebrow raised suggestively as he carried you to his bed.
“I think we should practice making ‘grandchildren’ for them.”
He set you down, long enough to grip the hem of your shirt before he pulled it over your head. His eyes moved to your chest, and he closed his eyes as he sighed in defeat.
“You’ve been keeping this from me?”
“You’ve seen me naked before,” you remind him, but he just shook his head.
“Years ago, Y/N, and let me tell you, my memory didn’t do you justice. I think I need a reminder.”
You throw him a suggestive look, knowing that you’ve both had some experience with sex since your shared first time all those years ago. This time, there was no fumbling, no nervous laughter, or apologizing. This time, Jungkook was in command of his body, and of yours too. He rid you of your shorts, leaving you naked on his sheets as he dropped his towel.
You marveled at how his body had changed: the muscle gained and the chiseled jaw you loved to admire. Jungkook bit his lip and did the same to you, eyes roving along your curves, the way you weren’t shying away from his touch as his fingers trailed up your thigh.
“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”
You didn’t get a chance to respond, as Jungkook kissed you again, this time with less fervor, his body crawling above yours as he joined you on the bed. His hands touched you everywhere, fondling your breasts and your ass as he kissed down your neck, nipping the skin and leaving marks along your neck. You feel the ache as your wetness pools between your legs, and Jungkook’s growing member sits heavy where it’s pressed against your thigh.
“Jungkook, please—”
He nips a bit harder, the sound of you begging for him made him infinitely larger. He wanted to be in you, but he didn’t want to rush it, wanted to savor you for as long as he had you under him. Kissing down your body, his tongue leaves a cool, wet trail and you writhe, ticklish to his tongues path to your core.
Parting your legs wider, he smirked at you from where he's sat on his knees, your thighs on either side of his gloriously naked body. Leaning forward, he never breaks eye contact as you watch his lips meet your mound. Gentle kisses pressed to your lips, and then his tongue is parting them, flicking your clit in greeting. Your head is thrown back, you know you should be quieter, but the onslaught of his lips and tongue as they pleasure your sweet spot has you reduced to base instincts only. And right now, they want Jungkook to know that he had better not stop.
You rolled your hips, seeking more, and he gives in, thick fingers immersing themselves inside of you. You clench, walls shocked at the intrusion but welcoming it all the same. He felt so good, and you tell him as much, so he continued to finger fuck you as he lapped up your release, carrying you through your orgasm.
He was so hard, cock throbbing as he kissed back up your body, and after spitting into your hand, you reached down to stroke along his shaft, palm twisting and gliding as he nuzzled his face back into your neck, quiet little moans rolling out of his mouth with each stroke. You made him feel so good, your body warm and soft as your smaller hand stroked his larger ego, in more ways than one.
Without preamble, you positioned him at your opening and lifted your hips, allowing him to feel how warm your walls were, waiting for him. He pushed up on his palms on either side of your head and the look he gave you was indecipherable before your own eyes shut; he engulfed his cock in the swollen velvet that was your cunt, buried to the hilt.
He had tried his best to prepare you, but every glorious inch stretching you out was a breath you needed to take in order to grow accustomed to his size. You counted nine breaths, then opened your eyes, taking in the trembling of his arms as he held himself back from pounding into you.
“Move, Kook, please,” you whine, and he wasted no time following your orders.
His hips grinded into you as he rolled them, angling himself to take you as deep as humanly possible. His pace started off fast, but soon he was slowing down, head dropped into the crook of your neck as your nails dragged red marks down his back. You rocked your hips in time to his thrusts, using your grip on his back as leverage to meet him halfway.
“You feel so good, so wet for me,” he murmured with each thrust, and you bit his shoulder, afraid if you didn’t gag yourself, you would say the wrong thing.
Everything about you enveloped him, your scent, your arms and thighs that were holding him close; he could barely think straight as he tried to get you to cum again before he got himself off. But you felt so good, tight clenches as your arousal gushed and coated his cock, he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Then you bit his shoulder, and he sped up his stroke, hips rolled in fast succession as your body jostled underneath him.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m so close baby,” you mewl into his ear, and he lifted his head up out of your neck, resting his forehead on yours.
“I want to watch you, don’t close your eyes,” he pleads and you try your best to keep them open, not closing them for long as the coil builds in your lower abdomen. He adjusted your bodies, lifted your legs up slightly which allowed him a deeper angle that hits your g-spot. Your mouth hangs open, a fucked out expression on your face and Jungkook loses it.
The first spurt of his hot cum sends you over the edge, and you're spiraling down, pussy contracting around his cock, milking him for every drop. You maintain eye contact, watching each other for a few seconds before you can’t help but close them, the pleasure too great.
Jungkook pressed his lips to yours as you both cum, using them to cage in the words he wanted to say, wanted to shout from the rooftops, but wasn’t yet sure you felt the same way.
——
Waking up in Jungkook’s arms, you felt sore. So sore, but also satisfied. You hadn’t slept this well in ages, and if Jungkook’s deep slumber and dead weight arm draped over your waist was anything to go by, he hadn’t either. You moved his arm slowly, headed for the shower, and let out a small gasp as JungHyun also exited his bedroom at the same time.
“Well, don’t you look... rested,” he trailed off, a look of knowing on his face.
Your face burned in embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, as soon as I heard little brother start to get a little… feral, I turned up my TV while I gamed. Parents didn’t hear a peep.”
“Thank you, oppa.” You bowed, gratitude seeping out of each of your pores.
“Now, those marks on the other hand,” he gestured to your neck, “might I suggest an ice pack for 20 minutes and then some really good makeup?”
You hurried into the bathroom as he laughed his way towards the kitchen. A minute later he knocked, passing you a small ice-pack through the cracked door.
“20 minutes,” he reminded you with a wink, and went back into his room with his cereal.
—
Saying goodbye to Jungkook’s parents after a late breakfast was tough. His mom cried, saying her baby son did not visit enough and that she would miss him. She also said she would miss you greatly, and that you better come back with him soon to visit.
It was tough to promise her that you would, knowing that there was a very real chance that you wouldn’t. This was fake after all. You had just agreed to extend the contract briefly, to get through the holidays and while Jungkook said ‘fuck it’ last night, with the rising of the sun came the clarity of the situation.
Jungkook behaved much the same, holding your hand and showering you with PDA, and while you reciprocated, you couldn’t help but feel like the magic of Christmas was over. Heading back to Seoul meant back to reality. You weren’t sure you were ready for that. For the first time in your life, you felt like you could see a future with someone, with him, despite the relationship being fake thus far. To be honest, it hadn’t felt fake since the night of the party.
The entire trip, all 3 and a half hours of it, you ruminated on last night and what it meant. You hated to admit that you had fallen for Jungkook, and had given up rule number 7 on a whim. For all you knew, he would be going back to Somin at the end of this.
In his own little world, Jungkook too couldn’t stop thinking about you and what last night meant. He wished he had said to forget the contract all together, instead of just for the night. He wanted to see if you felt the same way, but he wanted to be sure that his Somin chapter was done. He needed to see her and make sure he was over her, and not just using you as a rebound. You didn’t deserve that.
Jungkook’s body language had you on edge, as his foot tapped incessantly as the train got closer and closer to Seoul. You placed your hand on his knee, a reassuring move for both of you.
“Jungkook, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just—Somin messaged me.” He had been thinking about it the whole trip back to Seoul, about how her messages didn’t affect him anymore. Before, he could barely go a few minutes before responding. Now, almost 18 hours had passed and he wasn’t bothered.
“When?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, and Jungkook flinched back from you.
“Uh, last night, right after I got out of the shower.”
Your brain began to connect dots that you didn’t want it to.
“Oh,” you respond, trying to keep your voice light. Jungkook was confused at your reaction; usually you were jumping to keep him and Somin apart. This response felt like you didn’t care, like if he met up with Somin, it wouldn’t impact you at all.
“She just… I think that you’re right. The plan is working and I’ve been happier than I’ve been in a long time. But I guess there’s that part of me that needs to talk with her, express how I feel. I want to be sure.” Before I confess my feelings to you, he thought.
“Right. Well, that was the goal, getting you to figure out what you want.” You turned your head away from him and deeper into the neck pillow, trying to get this conversation done and over with before he said something that really broke your heart.
“I know. I guess I’ll meet up with her when we get back? The sooner the better I guess.”
“True, the faster you meet with her, figure it all out, the faster we can move towards breaking up.”
Jungkook freezes, but you don’t notice, too focused on not looking at him.
“At breaking up?”
“Yea, that was the plan right? We date for a couple more weeks, then break up, so you can get back with Somin, if she’s changed, you know?”
“You—”
“Hey Jungkook? I’m really tired, can we talk about this later?”
Jungkook stared at your form, taking in how closed off you were from him. He didn’t understand what changed. He sat back, finally replying to Somin’s text, agreeing to meet at a cafe by his apartment later that evening.
—
Jungkook saw you home, worried the entire ride to your place about what was happening between the two of you. He thought everything had been going well, and after last night, he didn’t know how he could have possibly fucked up. He hoped you were just PMS-ing, like Somin used to always blame moods like this on.
You let him carry your suitcase upstairs to your apartment and when he leaned in for a kiss, you kissed him back, but he felt it was almost out of obligation; your sister was sitting on the couch watching the two of you. Jungkook paused at your door, but you had turned away from him, so ready to be alone. So he let you close the door in his face, let you have time to yourself.
Jungkook got to the cafe, eyes searching for the long black hair of his ex. When he approached her she smiled at him. Jungkook saw the way her face lit up, the way the smile graced her pretty face, and felt nothing for it. Sitting down, a cafe worker took their drink order and left them alone.
“So, you said you wanted to talk?” Jungkook asked, fidgeting with his fingers drumming on his knee.
“Kookie, I miss you.” Somin leaned toward him, chest pushed out in her off the shoulder zebra print dress. Her black heel nudged against Jungkook’s leg, rubbing it suggestively.
Jungkook moved his leg out of reach and sighed.
“Somin—”
“Minnie.” She pouted, red painted bottom lip jutting out after she cut him off to correct her name.
“Somin. I—I’m sorry.” Jungkook felt awkward. Here he was, sitting in front of his ex, who was undoubtedly a gorgeous woman. But after all they had been through—all she put him through—and all the healing you had done to his heart, he realized he had fallen out of love with her a long time ago. “I know you had hopes of us getting back together.”
“Well, of course we’re getting back together Kookie. We’re made for each other. Since we were 20! I know this thing with Y/N is just revenge. You wanted to make me mad, teach me a lesson,” she said as she reached out and grabbed Jungkook’s hand in hers, “and I have learned it. Christmas without you was so sad. I had no one to go out to all the holiday parties with.”
Jungkook shifted in the metal chair. “Look, Somin—”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” she interrupted again, and Jungkook let out a loud sigh as he tried to maintain his cool.
“Because, I’m trying to tell you that I—”
“Jungkook! Somin!”
The loud yell of the barista reading out orders cut Jungkook off for the third time, and he groaned, running his tattooed hand over his face. With a huff, he stood up, walking through the crowded cafe to get the drinks so he could just tell Somin the truth; he may have initially wanted to teach her a lesson, but he ended up being the person who learned something from it. He was in love with you; wanted to spend more holidays like the one that just passed, with you. He truly didn’t feel anything for Somin anymore, other than friendship.
While Jungkook was up, Somin noticed his bag was open, a fancy camera strap hanging out of it. It was embroidered; the phrase ‘you shine brighter than anyone’ apparent once she pulled it free from his oversized black backpack. Somin threw a glance over her shoulder at Jungkook, seeing him still busy, so she stuffed the strap into her purse. Grabbing her phone, she sent a text to Taehyung.
Jungkook set down the drinks before sitting down himself and commanding the attention of his ex.
“Look, Somin, I just—I’m sorry.” Jungkook looked down at his hands before making eye contact with her. “I don’t see us getting back together. I—” he paused, taking a deep breath before he spoke his truth, “I’m in love with her, Minie. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I want to be happy. I want you to be happy with someone who feels about you, how I feel about her.”
Somin stared at Jungkook before she laughed. He was unsure of the emotions she was actually feeling; perplexed by her reaction to what he just told her. He didn't want to be with her anymore, and he wasn’t looking for her to beg, but he expected a little more... sadness? Push back? Once she was done laughing, she leveled her gaze at him.
“You, you’ve barely been seeing her Jungkook. How can you love her?”
Jungkook took a sip of his drink, gathering his thoughts before he answered her. The judgement that laced her tone made him angry, but he didn’t want to give Somin the upper hand. He wanted to be an adult about the situation. In retrospect, he hadn’t been honest with Somin when she first confessed to him, and you deserved for him to share that honesty now, even if it was coming 5 years later.
“I think—I think a part of me has always loved her. Since that first year. Don’t get me wrong, I think I loved you too and at some point we just… I think we just broke up and then made up too many times because it was easy… familiar. I love you Minie, and you were a huge part of my life. I’m just not IN love with you.” Jungkook leaned forward towards Somin, placing his hand over here, hoping that she would see and feel his sincerity and his benevolence.
“Wow, I—You’re serious?” Somin’s voice was quiet as she questioned him. “I guess I didn’t think I’d be starting the new year without you.”
Jungkook watched as she slid her hand out from under his and placed it in her lap.
“Please, be happy for me Minie, and when you’re ready, I’ll be happy for you too.”
The loud chime from Somin’s phone went off. Jungkook watched as she looked at her screen, eyes growing wide.
“Shit, an emergency with Tae.” Somin looked up at Jungkook, her face soft and apologetic.
“Koo—I mean Jungkook, I was just surprised is all. I—I am happy for you and Y/N. Or, I guess it’s more like, I will be. I’m sorry, I have to run, but thank you for meeting with me.”
Somin gave him one last smile, as if showing she was throwing the towel in, before she stood up and left the cafe in a hurry. Jungkook watched her as she dashed off, disappearing down the sidewalk towards the nearest bus stop. He thought the meeting had gone well, or at least better than expected. Maybe Somin has grown up, he thought to himself, unaware of the way she made off cunningly with his gifted camera strap, using a text that confirmed the time for the next morning’s meeting with Taehyung as an excuse to escape.
——
After closing the door in Jungkook’s face, you retreated to your room, claiming that a headache was creeping in from the long train ride. Your sister nodded, engrossed in her latest K Drama. You rolled your suitcase into your room, stripped your travel clothes from your weary body, and entered your shower.
Free to do as you pleased, with the water to cover the sound, you wept. How foolish you felt, letting Jungkook close to you once again, only to see him rush off to Somin. It was almost like what happened 5 years ago, when you had gone to his dorm room and found her confessing. Just like then, Somin was winning Jungkook; once again he had slipped through your grasp.
That night you texted Jungkook to tell him you would be going to the office early and that he needn’t pick you up.
Jungkook was relieved upon seeing your text. He had spent the better half of the evening and the morning tearing apart his apartment. He had called his parents, his brother, and overturned his luggage onto the floor. He could not find the camera strap you made him.
He knew that he shouldn’t have taken it off the camera, but he spilled a bit of leftovers from his mom on it while on the train and removed it to make it easier to clean once he got home.
Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.
Jungkook was frantic; he knew that you made it for him that night you sat in the sewing room with your mom and sister while he was with your dad. Your mom had an embroidery machine, and so you snuck in there under the premise of bonding time and worked on it. He loved the phrase you chose for him; it reminded him of your love letter to him, the way you had written about him making you feel as beautiful as a night sky. “you looked at me as if the galaxies were reflected in my eyes...”
Dumping out his black backpack for the umpteenth time, Jungkook sifted through notebooks, film, wrappers from snacks, a small hygiene bag, and loose photos. He doesn’t know why he continued looking through the same places. It’s not there. Glancing at the clock, he realized he would be late to the Monday morning meeting. Giving up and putting everything he needed back into his bookbag, he stepped over the mess and headed out to his car.
Walking into the conference room, everyone looked tired from their holidays, but with the New Year around the corner, it was important for everyone to attend before January. SeoulM8’s comeback was fast approaching, and making sure everything was moving smoothly was imperative to whether the next holiday was spent relaxing or spent stressed out.
Stirring your coffee, you walked through the propped open door and maneuvered your way over to where your assistants sat. Kim, the same one who brought you the tiger lillies several weeks ago, smiled at you as she slid you the stapled packet she printed out from the email.
“I think we’ve done all our parts, the photos Jeon emailed over have been approved by the boss, and we double-checked the designers they are wearing. I think all that’s left is to get final approval on the outfits for their comeback shows and interviews during comeback week.”
You nodded, sipping the still hot coffee as Kim spoke quietly about the role you played for SeoulM8, eyes on the printed email. It didn’t help the way you could feel the mocha eyes of a certain ‘missing in action’ best friend burning into the side of your face; or the way the empty seat across from you saved for a certain ‘boyfriend’ of yours had your anxiety on edge.
With 5 minutes left until the meeting commenced, you had done a pretty good job at tuning out all of the mindless chatter around you, that is until Somin’s nasally voice interrupted your response to Kim.
“Oh, this? It’s just a little gift for JK.”
“But you broke up? He’s with Y/N now...” Hobi said, cutting off a reply from one of the assistants sitting near Somin.
“But we dated for 5 years, he’s still important to me. I think he’ll love it.” She turned her back to Hobi, who tried to make eye contact with you. You looked down at your coffee instead.
When Jimin and Taehyung walked into the room, everyone quieted down and took their seats if they weren’t already, assuming Bang PD, the head boss, would be quickly approaching behind them. Before the glass door could swing fully shut, Jungkook sprinted into the room, out of breath.
“Oh Jungkook, here!” Somin stood up, making a big show out of handing him the small gift bag that had been on the table in front of her.
“Oh? Uh, thanks Minie.” Jungkook said, looking for the head boss. Bang PD was still missing from the room, so he grasped the colorful tissue paper from the bag and removed it in one swift pull. As the paper fluttered to the table, Jungkook’s eyes lit up as he took in the present.
“Oh my God, thank you!” Jungkook wrapped his arms around Somin in a huge hug, surprising everyone in the room watching, including you. Despite all of your negative thoughts about you and Jungkook’s future, seeing him react that way was unexpected and you felt your heart ache seeing him hold her in an embrace.
Sitting down, Jungkook turns to talk to Somin when you notice Bang PD walking down the long hallway towards the closed glass doors.
You turned to the front of the room where SeoulM8 was seated next to the only empty chair in the room, fully intending to pay attention, but Jungkook’s movements directly across from you pulled your attention away. When you see the embroidered strap that YOU had given to him for Christmas a mere 2 days ago slide free from the bag, you see red. Before Bang PD can enter the room, you’ve already stood up.
Both Namjoon and Jungkook look at you, followed by everyone else’s gaze; it’s too late to hide the tears that fall down your face.
“Y/N, I can explain—” Jungkook said as you make your way around the table toward the door. He grabbed your wrist to stop you, but you pulled it from his grasp.
“Save it, Jeon. It’s over.”
You leave the meeting, walking brusquely past your boss with your head down. You type out a quick text to him as you take the elevator down, apologizing for leaving and saying that an emergency came up. Bang PD responds within a few moments.
Back in the conference room, Jungkook attempted to call you, but you sent him to voicemail twice. Giving up, he grabbed his bag, fully planning to follow you, when he saw Namjoon stand before he could. Throwing a dirty look at Jungkook, Namjoon shook his head at him before quickly following you out the door.
You haven’t gone far, making it only to your office where you gathered up the rest of your belongings when Namjoon burst in.
“Y/N,” he sounded a little out of breath, probably from running to the elevator and then to your office, you assumed, “I—”
“Save it, Joon. You didn’t want to talk to me these past few weeks, so I don’t know why you’re here now.”
“Because I realized I love you.”
You stopped packing up your laptop, eyes slowly moving to meet his.
“What did you say?”
“I said I love you. I didn’t realize it until you started dating Jungkook, but I do.”
You shook your head back and forth, unable to hear or deal with his feelings right now.
“No, Namjoon, you don’t. You just miss Jennie.”
“Y/N, listen, I should’ve realized it was you. It’s always been you. You can’t honestly tell me that you’re in love with Jungkook?” Namjoon said this last part with contempt.
Tears fell once again, and you dropped your hands uselessly to your side.
“I do, Namjoon. I honestly love him.”
“Well, I hate to say I told you so, but-”
“Then don’t,” you voiced, cutting him off with an edge to your voice.
“You and Jungkook? Please. Anyone can see how different you are. You and me, though? We’re better for each other.”
“How different we are? Why? Am I too out of his league? Not pretty enough?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You guys just aren’t compatible—”
“And how the fuck would you even know?! You saw us together at what? One party? And then at work? What do you even know about our relationship, Joon?! You’ve been angry at me ever since you found out!”
“Because you and him together isn’t right! It’s supposed to be you and me!”
“Oh please, Namjoon. If Jennie hadn’t taken that Japan job and dumped you, you wouldn’t even be here right now. I wouldn’t have even crossed your mind. This is a pointless conversation.”
You walked towards the door, bag over your shoulder and laptop case in hand. Namjoon blocked the doorway, and behind him you could see nosey coworkers watching the interaction.
“Move, Namjoon.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“No,” you go to shoulder past him, and you were able to back him up into the common area outside of your office. He grabbed at your shoulders, holding you still.
“Namjoon, let go of me!” At this moment you hated that you had dressed up for this meeting; a tight a-line pencil skirt and heels that don’t allow you the movement that you needed.
Before you can shimmy from his clutches, he’s leaning forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. In shock, you don’t move at first, not until your free hand shoved his shoulder and pushed him a step back.
“I can’t believe you.”
The look you gave him could burn the sun, and this time you were able to push past him; the elevator getting closer and closer as you approached. You saw Jungkook, motionless, at the platform in front of the elevators; his eyes low in a glare aimed at Namjoon, who had followed you in your haste to escape.
“Hyung, you need to leave her alone.”
“Me? I’m her best friend. I would say you were her boyfriend, but we all heard her break up with you when she left the room crying.”
“That was just a misunderstanding. So like I said, leave her alone.” Jungkook stepped forward to his full height, chest to chest with his hyung, who prior to watching him force a kiss on you, he respected a lot. The tension on the floor was thick. You were mere steps from freedom, from Namjoon and Jungkook, when his words stopped you dead in your tracks. A misunderstanding?
Did he not understand what the words ‘It’s over’ meant? That the contract, the relationship between the two of you, however real or fake, everything was null and void?
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, Jungkook.”
Big, confused, doe eyes turned to face you. “Y/N, please let’s just talk about th—”
“Why don’t you take your own advice and listen to her, Kook. You could never treat her how she deserves.”
“Why don’t you go mind your own business Namjoon.” Jungkook bit back, fists clenched as he shook, holding back his anger. He just wanted to be alone to talk to you, but Namjoon was making it difficult.
“She is my business, she’s my best friend. She’s nothing to you now. Though, knowing you, that’s probably the reason she broke up with you. I bet you didn’t treat Somin right, and now you fucked up with Y/N. Can’t do anything right, can yo—”
Jungkook’s fist flew through the air before you could tell either of them to stop talking about what they don’t know. The sound of Namjoon’s jaw connecting to his fist echoed through the large room, and the crowd of bystanders yelled out in shock at watching a full on fight start in the building.
You yelled as Namjoon tackled Jungkook around his middle, tackling him to the ground before he reared back his fist to punch him back.
“Namjoon, stop, STOP!” you yelled as Jungkook flipped Namjoon onto his back, swapping places as he took the liberty to return the blow. Putting down your laptop and bag haphazardly, you rushed closer. Leaning down, you grabbed at Jungkook’s arm that was cocked back to throw another punch, yelling his name frantically.
“Jungkook, Kookie, PLEASE STOP!”
The two men looked at your face, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they tried to catch their breath. Jungkook’s eyes were dilated. As he took in your state, he seemed to come back to his senses. He started to climb up off of where he straddled Namjoon, pinning him to the floor, his hand reaching up towards you from where he was kneeled on the ground.
“Y/N, I’m sorry baby, please just talk to me.” Jungkook’s bottom lip was split, a small bit of blood leaking from the cut. His cheekbone was red; you knew a bruise would form there. Namjoon too tried to sit up, leaning on his elbow as his split eyebrow spilled his blood down the side of his face. He too would be sporting a shiner for the next week or so.
You almost reached for Jungkook, returned the gesture to cradle that beautiful face, but you couldn’t. Him fighting Namjoon changed nothing about the fact that Somin had the present you gave him, that she brought it to him as if she had given it to him, let alone the response he gave her when he saw it. Backing away, you almost tripped over your belongings before you thought to collect them, and then dashed into the elevator, leaving the two men bleeding on the floor as the doors shut, cutting off the view.
——
Dealing with the aftermath of the fight was not something you thought would be so difficult to do.
Working remotely meant not being able to turn off your phone so you didn’t miss any important calls or texts. Unfortunately, it also meant you had to deal with the barrage of texts and calls from friends and co-workers wanting to know about the fight.
According to Jimin, the only person other than Kim who you were responding to, the whole office heard about the fight. With Jin being Jungkook’s roommate, and of course being the resident gossip, news traveled fast that the two men got into a fist throwing match over you. This only had you double down on avoiding messages, calls, and not posting to social media. It was unlike you; as a fashionista who worked with models and artists like SeoulM8 and Kim Seokjin, people looked to your accounts for updates.
Your silence was killing Jungkook, the one person who had not given up. Jungkook hated to not give people time, but he had the feeling like the more time you had, the faster you would slip from his fingertips. You stared at your phone, watching his name light up on the screen as a picture of the two of you, set as his contact photo, taunted you with memories.
All you could do was lay there, curled up on your bed in your pajamas for the second day in a row, hating yourself. Hating the fact that you allowed yourself to break your rules, that you let Jungkook into your heart for a second time, only to watch it all come crashing down because he couldn’t let go of Somin. What did Somin have that you didn’t? How was it that she always won?
5 years ago you lost Jungkook to her, after giving him your virginity, something he knew was a big deal, as he had given his to you in exchange. And now again, you had so foolishly fallen into bed with him again, and he ran back to Somin. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? You were already blaming yourself heavy for this one.
Another day passed before you finally pulled yourself up out of bed long enough to shower and get dressed in a different set of sweats. A knocking sound at the front door had you tense up. Luckily, your sister answered the door, able to field away anyone who wanted to see you.
Creeping silently to the door of your bedroom, you cracked it open and listened to see who was there. From the angle you could see your sister, but not who was outside, nor could they see you. The warm tone was instantly recognizable, and your eyes widened as your sister looked back at you. Shaking your head profusely, she denied entry and shut the door, walking over to you. You back away from the door, letting her in as you sit on your bed. Crossing your legs, you grabbed a stuffie and clutched it to your chest.
“Hey, can you tell me what happened? Why are you hiding out at home and not answering Jungkook’s calls? What’s going on?”
You sighed, taking a much needed breath before you recounted the whole story. You told her about the journal entries being sent out, about how Namjoon had confronted you leading to you lying and saying you were with Jungkook, who came up with the plan to fake date each other until the Somin and Namjoon issues calmed down for both of you.
She listened intently, shocked to hear that it was all fake, and she told you as much once you finished sharing about the fight that ensued on Monday.
“Sis, that man loves you. I could see it when he came to the door. I think you should talk to him.”
“No. It’s all my fault all of this happened anyways. If I hadn’t been drunk and sent those messages out, I would have never had to lie to Namjoon and start all of this.”
Yuna squirmed in your computer chair, her mouth twisted as if holding herself back.
“Actually, you didn’t do that.”
“What are you talking about Yuna? I saw the messages. I took the photos the night before because I wanted to upload them to an online journal platform.”
She nodded her head, wringing her fingers in her hand. “I know that, but you didn’t send them… I did.”
You stared at her, anger silently rising as you waited for her to continue.
“I waited until you got into the shower. You know I read the entry to Namjoon, and so when you got into the shower, I used your phone and sent a message to each guy who’s name was both in the book and in your phone. I wanted you to have someone, instead of always spending your evenings at home, bored.”
“Yuna, you knew that I did not want Namjoon to know, he and Jennie had just... and I was trying to protect him, do you see what this did?!” You threw the plushie at her angrily, standing abruptly.
“I can’t believe you would invade my privacy, you could have ruined my career, if one of those messages had been sent to the wrong person, god damn it Yuna! You’ve ruined my fucking life!”
Yuna was crying, but she set the stuffed bunny back on your bed gently before she got up and headed to leave your room. Pausing at the door, her hand poised on the door knob, she turned back to face you.
“I didn’t ruin your life. You finally had a life. You’re the one running away from it now.”
With those parting words, she left your room, closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts.
After Yuna left you, she went to her own room, where she scrolled through social media to find Jungkook. You already blamed her, though she felt like it was misplaced, but she felt like she might as well do something to help fix the situation. Finding Jungkook’s IG account from the photos you tagged him in, she followed him. When he returned the follow, she messaged him to contact her.
It didn’t take long for him to respond, and she asked him to meet her out somewhere. Agreeing on a local park, Yuna changed her shoes and left you moping in your room, a note on the counter that she was headed out.
Sitting on the bench, it wasn’t hard to spot Jungkook. His tousled black hair peeking from under his black beanie and the familiar black jacket was easy to spot against the white snow that had recently fallen, but like a Seoul snowfall, it wouldn’t stick for long. Carrying a hot cocoa for him and herself, Yuna held it out to him before she sat down, sipping on the warm drink.
“Yuna, I will say I’m surprised you reached out to me.” Jungkook’s usually bright voice was tinged with sadness as he looked over at her.
“I have something to tell you.” Yuna started, and Jungkook’s nerves grew.
“I was the one who sent the journal entry to you. Not my sister.”
“Oh? Okay. Thank you for telling me I guess.” Jungkook took another deep pull from the drink, letting the heat fill his body as he swallowed.
“I mean, I sent it because I didn’t want her to grow old and be alone. Every night, coming home bored to drink wine with her baby sister and watch reruns on Netflix? I wanted her to fall in love. And she did. With you.”
“I don’t think so, Yuna. She wasn’t in love with me.”
“She was; she still is! She told me everything that happened. About how dating you was all fake. But I know it wasn’t. Not for her. And not for you. No one acts the way you two acted. I know my sister; when she told me what happened, I knew that she was hurt because she’s in love with you. Like, still in love with you. She just doesn’t believe you love her back.”
Yuna stared at Jungkook, watching the way her words sank in, waiting to confirm what she already knew: Jungkook was in love with you, too.
Jungkook’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “How do I convince her? That I love her back?”
“I wish I knew Jungkook. I wish I knew. But if you don’t do something soon, I think you’ll lose her.”
——
Friday was New Year’s Eve, and you had to put up with Yuna running around like a lunatic cleaning the apartment to ring in the new year. You had finally resigned yourself to forgiving her for sending the journal entries. It was over and done with, and there was nothing more to do. Monday, you would be back at work like nothing happened, and didn’t want to go into the new year holding onto this year’s anger or sadness.
Yoongi, surprisingly, had reached out to you the day before about a party he was having to ring in the new year, and at first you didn’t want to go, but the longer you thought about it, you figured you should. Why spend the new year at home, where your sister would relentlessly tease you until she left. She had her own plans this year, going to a classmates to drink and watch the fireworks; so if you stayed home, you would be alone.
And you were tired of being alone. Sleeping in, you didn’t get up to join your sister in cleaning until later in the afternoon, going through your closet, bedroom, and bathroom.
You were scrubbing your shower when you heard the doorbell, but your sister, ever the nosey one, yelled that she would get it, so you continued cleaning, forgetting that someone had come to the door by the time you finished cleaning the bathroom.
When you finally stopped cleaning for the day, it was close to 9 PM, so you decided to get ready for the night out at Yoongi and Hobi’s place. After about an hour and a half, you were dressed, makeup done, and ready for the party. You ventured out of your room, noticing a large blue hatbox on the kitchen counter.
“Yuna! What’s this blue box?” you yelled, and her reply carried from down the hall.
“A delivery, for you, from earlier!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you grumbled, cursing your sibling as you reached to remove the lid off of it. Inside was what looked like a photobook, a beautiful ombre of pinks and purples decorating the cover. Removing it from the box, you flip it open, noticing right away the neat handwriting that could only belong to one person.
Sighing, you carry it to the couch, where you read the inscription he penned inside.
“Right at this moment, I think of you.”
Flipping through the pages, you see he’s created a scrapbook of the past month spent together. Pictures of the two of you at work, the park, each other’s places, and visiting each other’s families. Pictures of you sleeping in his arms, candids where you aren’t even aware of him taking the photos.
Each photo is vibrant, in his style of catching the light just right as it caresses your face, and you’ve never seen yourself look so beautiful. He’s scribbled little notes here and there, of what he noticed or what was happening when he snapped the camera, and you can’t help but blush when you see a photo in there of you after the two of you had sex.
“I reach out my hand, and feel your breath. With eyes closed, before we know it, we’re together.”
Your fingers trace over the photo, where Jungkook’s face is, looking at you so lovingly as you sleep on his chest, the bed sheets from his childhood bedroom covering you both strategically so nothing indecent shows.
The last page has a handwritten letter, not unlike the one you wrote for him all those years ago, with a tiger lily pressed inside. You looked up the meaning of the flower earlier in the day when you found the large vase while cleaning. Please love me. With shaky hands, you held the photobook and began to read.
Y/N,
5 years ago, you thought you were in love. I can tell you with certainty that 5 years later I pray that you are, because I am so in love with you. The way you see me, I don’t think I’ve ever been seen before. My whole life I’ve been behind the camera capturing others. And somehow you have taken the camera from me and now I’m the one being captured and seen. And I love it. You make me feel like I’m not just made up of the same ingredients that make up the stars in the sky, you make me feel like the very galaxy reflected in your eyes when you look at me. You’re beautiful, and I, Jeon Jungkook, am so in love with you. When I say I’ve always loved you, that there is no start, so there can be no end: we are fated—destined; you are mine as much as I am yours. These photos are only a fraction of the way I see you, the many shades that make up who you are, how could I ever capture them all? Please know, I want to spend the rest of time trying. So in case you didn’t see it, or weren’t sure: I love you. I want to be with you. No contracts, just you, wholeheartedly as mine, and me as yours.
——
It was nearing 11 when you reached Yoongi and Hobi’s house, leaving the Uber driver with a confused look at the way you dashed out of his car. You could care less; the man you were in love with was inside that house, right now, and you would be damned to let him get away again.
Pushing through the crowd of bodies, you looked side to side, searching for the familiar black tresses, ears straining to hear his musical laugh or catch someone saying his name. Entering the living room, your eyes fell on the beer pong table, where Jimin and Taehyung were playing against Yoongi and Hobi.
Destination set on getting to that table, you wade through the throng of people with the obligatory happy new year. Some attempted to stop to ask you how you’ve been, fill you in on the latest office gossip, or inquire about the exact relationship status of Jungkook. Those in the latter category were met with major side-eye. Plastering a fake smile on your face each time, you finally shake the last of them, jogging the last few steps until your right on the edge of the game.
“Y/N! Glad to see you!” Hobi was his typical cheerful self, greeting you with his signature smile as he watched Taehyung try and line up his shot in the cups Yoongi just re-racked.
“Hey Hobi, Happy almost New Year! Have you seen Jungkook?” you asked, skipping straight to the point.
“Um, yea, he came by earlier to drop off a few kegs for us, helped us move the furniture, but he went home. Said he wasn’t really feeling like celebrating.”
Yoongi, who had just grabbed the ping pong balls before they bounced off the table, handed one to Hobi as he gave you a pointed look.
“Yea, looked pretty heartbroken all week, if you ask me.”
“Well, no one did Yoongi. Give her a break,” Hobi answered before turning to you, “he’s probably at home. You can get there before midnight if you get an Uber quick.”
Thanking him, you threw your arms around him and Yoongi in a shared hug before waving to the other two on the far side of the table. You had someplace to be.
Outside in the quiet, you requested an Uber, happy to see one not even 2 minutes away. Thankfully, Jungkook only lived 10 minutes or so from the guys. You hoped traffic would be on your side. You knew you were cutting it close; 11:30 was approaching fast.
The ride to Jungkook’s apartment gave you too much time to think. Those 15 minutes (thanks drunk pedestrians) on the car ride over allowed the nerves to settle in, along with the doubt and fears. What if he didn’t feel that way about you anymore? What if he just wanted to bring you the photobook as a goodbye?
Shaking the thought from your head, you took a deep breath before you climbed out of the car and into the hushed cold of the last day of December. You had never shown up to his place unannounced like this, so used to trailing him into his apartment. The closed door was daunting to you, but you didn’t have much time now.
Knocking louder than you needed to due to those pesky butterflies in your stomach, what feels like an hour is only 10 seconds or so until Jungkook is standing before you.
“Hi,” you said, breathless from the cold and from the sight of him after so many days apart.
“Hi,” he responded, looking just as mesmerized to see you at his doorstep, “uh, wanna come in?” Jungkook took a step back, giving you space to come in and you stepped forward into the welcomed warmth of his home.
The scene before you is not what you were expecting. Jungkook had been sitting in the dark, a half eaten pizza and a beer bottle on the coffee table, with his favorite blue and grey plaid blanket haphazardly cast aside on the couch; most likely from when he stood to welcome you.
Shucking off your boots, you walked into the living room, Jungkook silently trailing you.
“I—I’ve missed you.” His voice is low, as if afraid he would spook you.
“I’ve missed you too.” You turned to face him, the light from the paused Netflix show reflecting in his beautiful orbs. You took in his face, split lip mostly healed and the bruise faded along his cheek.
“I got your gift.”
“I’m glad.”
The conversation between the two of you was static, neither sure of what to do. The silence ticked on for a few more seconds before you decided to stop being a pussy.
“Did you mean it? What you said?”
“Of course I did.”
“I’m glad,” you repeated his earlier phrase, stepping closer to him. You placed your hands on his chest, solid muscles reacting to your touch as he subconsciously flexed them. “Because I love you, too.”
Rising on your tippy toes, you pressed your lips to his, your body relaxing when you heard the sigh he let out from the contact. His hands pulled you closer, deft fingers gripping you in all the right places as he deepened the kiss. He tasted faintly of pizza and beer, and smelled so strongly of his vanilla musk. You couldn’t believe how much he felt like home to you. Being in his arms felt right.
Bending slightly, Jungkook wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you up, never breaking the kiss. Hoisting you up, he carried you down the hall to his room, foot kicking the door shut behind him. So turned on by his show of strength, you rolled your hips down onto what was his growing length, seeking any friction that would help ease the ache between your thighs.
Letting out a groan, Jungkook’s hands guided your hips roughly to where he wanted you, lining up your sweet spot so you could grind on him better. Licking into his mouth, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. A slight tug exposed more of his neck, where you planted markers of your territory as you continued rolling your hips in time to his movements.
“I want you.” The whispered words went straight to your core; hearing Jungkook’s voice break with need, need for you—you couldn’t get out of your clothes fast enough.
“Bed. Now.” You demand, and he laughs as he follows your directives, setting you down once he approached the edge of his queen sized mattress. You tug your jacket off, tossing it to the foot of his bed before peeling your shirt up over your head to reveal your bra to him. He doesn’t get to look too long; you’ve gripped the waistband of his grey sweatpants and pulled them low enough to free him from it’s confines. His cock sprung free, and, licking your lips, you switch positions with him.
With his back to the bed, you pushed him down, and he went easily. Pressing your hand to his chest, you lay him back as you bend at the waist, bringing your mouth to his leaking head. You lick the bottom of his shaft up to the slit, collecting the pre-cum with the tip of your tongue before you take the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. Under your hand, you feel his abdominal muscles contract as he lets out a moan letting you know how good you feel as you take him farther into your mouth.
Speeding your ministrations, you hollow your cheeks as you slurp around the head, using your hands to massage the dripping spit along the exposed skin you can’t reach. His hands grip your hair creating a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face so he can watch you. And wow, does he love the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock, innocent eyes blinking coyly up at him while your mouth is stretched around him. Keep it up and he could cum too quickly in your mouth.
When your free hand traveled to his scrotum, he jumped, feeling an overwhelming sense of pleasure as his sack tensed up.
“Wait, baby, I don’t want to cum yet.” Jungkook panted, and you pop off of him with a lewd sound that filled the quiet of his room.
Tugging you towards him, he scooted back on the bed until his head was flush with the headboard.
“Strip for me,” he urged, and you did, undoing the button on your jeans and sliding them down until you were naked from the waist down. His eyes stared pointedly at your chest and you unclasped your bra, adding it to the growing pile of clothes the two of you had made. Watching as he shed his shirt before laying back fully, kicking his sweats free from his body, you climbed onto the bed, and he directed you farther up his body until he could maneuver your thighs to either side of his face.
“Jungkook—”
“I’ve wanted you like this for so long, baby, please.”
Giggling softly, you lowered yourself slowly and he wound his arms around your thighs until his palms were wrestling lightly on them. The slow caress as he drew patterns on your skin matched the same pattern he drew with his tongue, you realized once he had you fully seated. Gripping the headboard, you threw your head back, rolling your hips as his lips and tongue ravaged you, the sexual sounds of him eating you out creating more for him to drink down.
Curving your back to make you hunch forward, you adjust as the pleasure builds and you see his eyes, those bright galaxies staring at you as he pleasured you to climax and you tensed as the coil in your abdomen snapped, a mix of curse words and his name pouring from your lips as he worked you through it.
Placing your hands on his sweat laced forehead, you pushed to try and pull away from the overstimulation as he let out a laugh.
Scooting yourself down his body once he released you, you fell back and to the side of his muscular thighs, trying to catch your breath. You feel him moving, a low chuckle released as his hands grasped your wrists. Pulling you up, you see he’s now seated flush to the headboard, back against the soft grey padding. He guides your hips so that you straddle him, sitting your still sopping wet cunt onto his cock. Pressed against his stomach, he can feel the warmth emanating from your opening, and groaned, wanting to be inside of you.
Pressing his forehead to yours, his eyes meet yours as he intertwines your fingers before resting your interlocked hands behind your back at the curve of your ass.
“I love you.” His voice is strong, sure and confident in the words he says as he bares more than just his body before you. “I wanted you so badly back then, I want you even more now.” He presses a kiss to your lips, causing you to grind down on him.
He kisses down your neck, hands still holding you in position over him. “Want to be inside of you, baby.” He nips at your neck, making you gasp, and when you rock forward, he’s rocking his hips down.
The head of his cock presses against your core, and you settle back onto it, walls stretching to accommodate his girth. The two of you move in tandem, lips once again reunited in a raunchy kiss that only serves to turn you on more, sending enough slick between your lower lips to allow him to slip further into you until he’s bottomed out, a snug fit as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.
Releasing your hands, his large palms hold your back to pull you closer to him as you swivel your hips, rocking so the shaft slips in and out of you in short bounces. You rock, arms wrapped lazily around his neck as you play with the wet locks of hair as you ride him at your leisure, just enjoying the feel of your bodies connected as one. Chest to chest, you can feel the speed of his heart beat; it matches your own.
“Can I go faster?” you asked, not wanting to go at a pace he wasn’t comfortable with.
“You can use me however you want, baby,” he replied, eyebrow cocked smugly as he gripped your waist tighter, “but please tell me I can cum inside.”
Nodding as you sped up, you bounced with more friction, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit as you chased your high, fucking yourself on his formiddable cock.
“That’s it, fuck, baby, right there—” Jungkook’s moans, musical as he egged you on, brought you to your peak for the second time that night. Your walls clenched around him, and as your body froze, he took advantage of the moment to shift your bodies so you were on your back with your head to the foot of the bed. Bracing his feet on edge where his mattress met the headboard, he began to piston his hips into you, chasing his own high.
“Fuck, Jungkook, I’m gonna—again—” You can barely get the words out when your third orgasm is crashing around you, legs shaking from where they’re wrapped tightly around his narrow hips. Your release makes it wetter, and your swollen walls ache to feel his cum fill you.
“Gonna fill you up so good, baby, fuck a—baby into you, fuck, I want to see you carry my—my kid,” Jungkook’s cock is drowning in your essence, and hearing him talk about kids with you causes you to tighten around him, and he’s cumming, long ropes of his hot cum filling you until it’s seeping out around him as he continues to thrust indiscriminately, velvet muscle milking him dry.
Laying skin to skin in his bed, you laugh as the alarm clock numbers alert you to the fact that you had missed the New Year by 38 minutes.
“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asked, eyes alight as he takes in your smile.
“We missed New Year’s.”
“We didn’t miss it, we were simply enjoying our New Year’s kiss for longer than most.” He quipped back, fingers tracing patterns along your back. Your own nails were lightly scratching shapes into his chest as you rested your head on his shoulder. You spent the next 20 minutes of the first hour of the new year listening to him explain what happened with the camera strap, though you had already forgiven the incident.
He wasn’t sure how Somin had the camera strap, though he suspected she stole it from his bag at the cafe. Jungkook told you about the meeting, how it helped him see that you weren’t a rebound; he was in love with you and while it was obvious to him, a part of him wanted to be sure before confessing to you. He didn’t want you to think he was rushing into things to get over his ex. He also apologized for fighting Namjoon, saying he was worried that seeing him fight would change how you viewed him, change his chances of being with you, this time for real.
“I love you, Jungkook, in case you didn’t know.”
“I love you too, in case you didn’t know.”
“Hmm, but, I think we need to talk about children though, I think it’s a little too soon, despite our parents' ideas.” You giggled, and his cheeks turned red in embarrassment.
“It was just sex talk, we’re still just practicing, okay?”
Stretching, you roll away from his body, and he follows your body heat subconsciously, his body not wanting you far from him after almost a week of radio silence.
“Hey, get back here, you’re mine.”
“Oh am I?” you teased, staying just out of his reach.
He pouted, accent slipping out as he moved closer to your retreating body.
“Yes, you’re mine, no rules, no contracts; just mine.”
“ ‘m all yours, baby,” you mumbled as you rubbed your nose to his in an eskimo kiss as he gathered you up in his arms, “and you’re mine.”
UPDATE (5.18.21): 1st Prologue is Out Now!
BTW, ily ⟢ summary: Taking place in the To All the Men I’ve Fucked Before (TATMIFB) AU, this pre-story is the backstory to you and Namjoon’s friendship. A year after losing your virginity to Jungkook, you meet Namjoon, who becomes your best friend… and who you want so much more with. Before you and Jungkook get it together in To All the Men I’ve Loved Before, there was BTW, ily.
Thank you all so much for reading! I plan on doing an epilogue and some drabbles to get more insight into the pasts of these characters! I love them so much, I don’t think I am ready to let go. The masterlist will be updated as more are added! TATMIFB Masterlist
↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.
#hisunshiine#hisunshiine event#hisunshiine writings#bts au#bta fic#bts story#bts fanfic#jungkook#bts v#jimin#j hope#suga#jin#bts rm#jungkook story#bts v story#jimin story#j hope story#suga story#jin story#bts rm story#Netflix ReImagined BTS#hisunshiinewritings#bts fic#bts fanfiction#to all the boys au#tatbilb au#TATMIFB#hisunshiine: TATMIFB
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hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)
Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.
~*~*
Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.
Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You
Rating: M(ature)
Warnings: Blood & violence.
A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”
Ao3 Link: Here
*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2
Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here
Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.
In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.
But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.
“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”
That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:
Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.
Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.
This couldn’t be happening.
“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.
The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”
He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.
“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.
“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”
The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”
“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”
Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”
“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”
A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”
“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.
The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.
He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.
Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.
He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.
“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”
“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”
“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”
“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”
“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.
“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”
Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.
No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.
The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”
“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.
The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”
He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.
Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.
“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”
Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.
Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.
But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?
He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.
Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.
The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”
The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”
Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”
“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”
“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.
“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
You’re hearing will never be as it was.
The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.
He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.
Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.
Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.
He needed a fucking drink.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.
Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.
Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.
Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.
“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.
He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.
“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.
Except… he’d been standing still that time.
“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.
The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.
“What the fu—”
Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.
Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.
Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.
A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.
The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.
This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.
Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.
Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.
The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.
Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.
Dynamight was here to get the job done.
“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.
The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.
Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.
The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.
As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.
He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.
Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.
A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.
“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.
Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.
“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.
Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.
The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.
A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.
He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…
Nothing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.
A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.
When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.
You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.
Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.
So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.
It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.
Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.
That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.
You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.
And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.
But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.
That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.
For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.
Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.
Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.
When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.
But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.
One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.
So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.
With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.
At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.
So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.
When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.
Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.
This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.
You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.
“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”
After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.
The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.
Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”
You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.
So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.
Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.
It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.
You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.
Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.
Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.
You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.
“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.
Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.
What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.
Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?
Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.
That sounded… closer.
With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.
“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.
You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.
Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.
Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.
Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.
The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.
Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.
A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.
The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.
You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.
The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.
The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.
The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.
The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.
You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.
Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.
You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.
You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.
In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.
Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.
#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo katuski x reader#bakugo katsuki/reader#bakugo/reader#bakugo katsuki/you#bakugo katsuki x you#my hero academia#mha spoilers#boku no hero academia#bnha#anime#fanfic#my writings#katsuki bakugo
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Bets Against The Void (Whitelist AU)
Well.. I DID IT. This is only chapter 1. I planned on this being a one-shot, but if it was, it would take me so long to finish it. So, chapters it is.
This is crossposted on AO3. I don’t exactly stand with a lot of what it’s doing, but it’s not particularly easy to find fics on Tumblr I feel..and I will never go back to Wattpad. Not again.
@petrichormeraki Whitelist AU fic :)
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
They had just left the server to practice for MCC, that was all. Wilbur would be so proud, the two youngest would be sure, if they managed to win one. For Tommy, it would be his first win not aided by his (Troubled, distrustful, anarchist-) family, and Tubbo’s first-ever.
Teams for the next MCC had yet to be announced, but it hadn’t mattered. Tommy had been invited back to every competition since MCC 2, after all- and the competition had already become accommodating to Tubbo, following the..Circumstances, of The Festival.
The admins hosting the event were concerned, following the events they’d hear of about their server. They hadn’t known much; no one outside their world, really did. But, well..When asked about the status of Wilbur, and if he’d attend- the silence and reaction of the residents of his world were telling.
Barely a handful of players were at the server, practicing. It was calming, for the teenagers. The two had primarily stuck together, as they tended to do after the Pogtopia-Manburg war. The siblings were back together again. And they had each other- they trusted each other, unquestionably. Something more than they could say about anyone else.
By the time they made it back to the world hub, they were already exhausted. The timezone of their server would be late, they were sure. Their arms ached, and legs wobbled with every step. They both felt as if they could fall down, anytime.
Tubbo’s arm was looped around Tommy’s, content to be in the presence of his best friend, without the responsibility of the world on either of their shoulders’. Other players had barely batted an eye at the two- it wasn’t uncommon for teenagers or children to server hop by themselves. Nor for someone passing through a world hub to have outlandish and otherworldly scars. For them to both be teenagers, and scarred so heavily- well, that was a different story.
Still, not a soul stopped them as the tall blond led his friend to a nearby empty portal. As they stood still, Tubbo instinctively released his arm from the boy. Tommy kept Tubbo grounded to him as he worked, talking idly to them and inquiring about build plans. As Tubbo talked, Tommy quickly fidgeted with his communication tablet.
The thin, hovering device was pressed against the large obsidian frame of an otherwise normal, unlit portal. Pressing out of his inventory, which by mandatory was empty, Tommy opened his server list. The individually named servers popped up.
Some servers were empty, others grayed out and unavailable, no longer tended to. Muscle memory brought him to Dream SMP. The status of the server was buffering- it’s availability of connection unclear. It wasn’t unusual- not for world hubs filled with tens of thousands of players at any given time.
With their SMP selected, the portal flickered for a moment- sparks of neon green rippling within, before quickly fading. The whooshes and crackling of a portal being lit, before failing, caught Tubbo’s ears.
“Uh...Is- is the portal good? Did it light? Why does it feel like it’s uh- not?” They tilted his head to the side, towards Tommy. The blond paused for a moment, blinking in bewilderment with his brows furrowed. “No- no it’s not lit..Uh.. What the shit? Hold on, Tubbo-” he huffed, pulling his tablet off the obsidian wall with ease to inspect it.
Blue eyes squinted at the screen. At the edge of the selection for Dream SMP, was an error sign, much to Tommy’s slight horror. “Fucking..Shit-” he hissed, pressing the icon. “‘Server closed for maintence’- what the fuck!” The teen spat. That got a few heads turned him, at his shouts. Most continued walking, merely giving him a wary glance.
Tubbo’s mouth dropped, scrambling for words. “Wh- why? I- I mean, I guess it makes sense- the- the server’s been acting up, and stuff- but- with what noticed?” He squawked, fumbling with their own device. Gliding their hand over the graphics, each thing he touched was read aloud to him quietly in his comm systems.
While Tubbo worked on locating his own messages, Tommy already found his. He scoffed indignantly, his hand clenching at the frame of the tablet. “The chat system for the server’s down too! Holy shit, fucking- what? Were no one fucking prepared for if we all get knocked out of the server at once? What the fuck!” Slight panic edged into his angered words as he shouted.
“Guess not,” Tubbo shrugged, pushing his tablet away, already frustrated with it. “Did Dream send out any sort of alert, for this?” Tommy only scoffed. The brunnett was sure he was rolling his eyes, as well. “Yeah, with a three-minute fuckin’ notice! Just told everyone to figure it out for themselves, while he fixed shit! What a lil bitch!”
Glares were most certainly being sent towards them by now, Tubbo was sure. Gently pressing himself against the visibly upset and angered boy, he looped their arms back together, reassuringly squeezing his hand.. “We should get out of the way. I’m sure other people are waiting, there’s nothing we can do.” The brunett resigned himself to being the level-headed one between them.
“We can’t just fucking stay here, Tubbo! We ain’t got shit to eat, or anything. It’s not exactly like we thought of packing shit for a few hours of practicing!” The boy protested. He had just gotten L’manburg back, finally, a place he and his Tubbo were okay.
After a moment of silence, Tubbo would speak up once more. “I started installing some more, uh..Hack clients-”
“TUBBO WHAT THE SHIT!”
“Please, I’d really like to not get in major trouble today.” They’d wince, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The feeling of stares lingered on his back.
“I got a client that should let me into the world last opened on a portal- which, in this case, should be Dream’s server. So we can get on there and-
“Call Dream a dick.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t think it’s dangerous, or unstable or anything to be there..I’m sure he and the rest of Dream Team are there.”
Walking back to the portal, guiding Tubbo back with him, Tommy unattached his own device from the frame. “Uh, want me to put yours on the portal? Or do you got it, Big Man?” The blond tilted his head towards the other boy expectantly.
Dipping their head in thought for a moment, Tubbo hummed. “You can do it. It’s all set up- besides I already turned my text-to-speech off, I was getting a headache from the voice.” They decided, handing off his tablet to Tommy.
Within moments, Tommy had gotten it set up. Rather than having an individual server selected, the “Connect” button had been highlighted as seen as he reached his friend’s serverlist.
A flurry of colors splashed within the portal, before settling on a distorting purple. Tommy squinted, glancing towards Tubbo. “That..Does not look like Dream’s server color.” Tubbo tilted his head curiously. “Well.. The site did say it could do that- It’s kinda just ripping the IP and plugging it in illigitmently- it’s incapable of displaying the correct resource, basically.” He played with his friend’s sleeve idly.
“..Fucking- alright, sure. Assuming this is safe- are you ready to hop in?” He pushed down any doubts. Really, nothing worse than what the two already lived through could happen. Tubbo grinned, nodding their head. And so, Tommy led the boy into the portal alongside him. Swirling particles filled his vision, as they flurried around the two- and then they were stumbling to the ground.
Tommy’s eyes shot opened- a dull, thudding pain in the back of his head, as he got his footing. Tubbo was doing the same, losing his hold on Tommy to lean against the portal frame to catch himself. “...Well. Fuck.” Tommy hissed, rubbing his temple as he looked around the room.
The large portal behind them had dropped them into a large, pyramid-shaped room. The floor below them was sandy, greenery and bookshelves pressed against the walls. Tommy’s mouth dropped to the floor as he viewed ahead of him.
“W-What the fuck! What the shit these people- th-there’s just! Diamond armor! On display - t-they have fucking elytras! Holy fucking shit! ” He stammered out the words, his brows furrowed together in complete bewilderment.
“What? That’s insane!..This- this sounds like an ocean? Why can I hear water? Are we on an island?” Tubbo warily stepped, testing his footing.
Tommy instinctively reached back to grab his friend’s hand protectively, nodding vigorously. “I think we’re fuckin’ underwater, or some shit! There’s a water column, and- and the walls fuckin’ tilt, and then it’s all water and shit! The ceiling is just the ocean!”
..Descriptions never seemed to be Tommy’s strong suit. Nonetheless, Tubbo nodded along to the words, warily listening. All that could be heard was the crashing water overhead the water-bound structure. The boy shivered with unease at this.
“Are there any players? Did- did us joining get sent through the comm system, do you think?” Tubbo summoned his comm’s back to his hands, but Tommy must’ve already had his out. “Fuckin- i’m still connected to Dream’s. It didn’t give me the option to look at whoever the fuck’s this is. Tommy growled, uneasiness and anxiety gnawing at him.
And then, there was a flash of light and particles. A man in a..Bee-themed, space/futuristic-Esque suit appears on the other side of the room. Another, far more mundane seeming man, manifested next to him.
The energy in the room shifted to something unfamiliar to the two teens. Tubbo shivered, desperately grasping tighter at Tommy. The blond boy had stood rigid, blue eyes cold and wary as he stared challengingly at the two strangers.
While the helmeted, bee-colored man visibly had plates of enchanted Netherite glittering on him, the human beside him was bare of any protection, defenses, or armor. The teen didn’t know what to make of either of them.
Pacifyingly holding up a weaponless hand, the helmet man cleared his throat. “We weren’t particularly expecting visitors, or any surprise drop-ins this late to our season.” Their voice wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly edged on the skeptical side
From the yellow-tinted helmet, Tommy could barely make out a faint reflection of light in purple eyes. His throat felt full of vile, the blond boy practically growling as he held he pushed himself in front of Tubbo.
In retaliation, Tubbo gently shouldered the boy before poking out beside him, facing vaguely towards the man who spoke. “I’m sorry for him- this..This is an accident, uh, Sir.” They chuckled anxiously.
The helmeted man- who by now, Tommy had presumed was the admin- tilted his head. “While accidents aren’t necessarily uncommon on a server such as ours- one quite like this, so far into our progress certainly is.” The Southern fellow beside the bee-helmet man spoke up, his expression passive and at ease as he stared over the boys.
“You two don’t look like you’re here to give us issues- don’t you agree, X?” The helme- X, apparently- surveyed the two teenagers for a moment more, before nodding. “Good, then.” The human(?) smiled, dipping his head.
Tommy scoffed, glaring at the man. “Where the fuck are we?” The blond’s eyes flickered between the two adults stood opposite of them. While the man remained unphased, glancing expectantly at X- said player took a step back, tilting their head.
“Well, considering there’s not really a way to accidentally derp your way into here- I’d expect you’d know.” While X wasn’t unkind, his tone was expectant. Accusatory, maybe.
Before Tommy could open his mouth to blabber and cover their asses, Tubbo put his arm out in front of the other. “It really was an..An accident- it wasn’t this server we were trying to get into- wherever we are.” He’d chuckle uneasily, shifting their weight. They weren’t sure what to make of their unknown surroundings.
“Our home-server seems to be down.. And- no one told us where to go, so I said i knew a way we might be able to go back, and uh..It got us here.” They’d finish, anxiety spiking as he was unable to gauge their reaction.
“Yeah- and we’re not gonna fuckin’ do shit. We don’t even know where the fuck we are. Just- leave us be! Or send us back, or some shit-” “Alright, alright! Hey, we’re not fighting with you!” X would cut off Tommy, who’s blue eyes shot a cold glare to the slightly frazzled man.
The younger Brit couldn’t help but get amusement from the way the masked man was so visibly startled from his swears. “You two..Don’t particularly look in the condition to just.. stay in the World Hub. Do you have someplace else to go? How long have you been locked out?”
Beside the apparent Admin, who had not-so-subtly manifested a transparent screen in front of him, the human looked in exasperated amusement at the helmeted fellow. “Forgetting something there, Shashwammy?” The Southern man spoke with fondness.
Before the admin could react, the man turned back towards the accidental intruders. “You’re in the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, my friends! Hermitcraft Seven, to be specific. I’m Joe, of the Hills variety- and this is my pal, Xisumavoid! Though he’ll likely go by just about anything you can think to call him.”
Tommy looked beside him at Tubbo for a moment, his brows pinched together as he quietly scoffed. This is gonna get really tiring if he talks like this all the time. The blond thought absentmindedly.
In the meantime, Tubbo himself was speechless- positively bursting at the seams. “Hermitcraft?! This is Hermitcraft? Oh, oh void I just broke into Hermitcraft-” They babbled for a moment, jittering as he attempted to compose himself. Tommy raised a brow, eyeing them.
“You say that as if that means fuckin’ anything to me, Tubbo-”
“I. I’m so sorry, uh, Mr. Hills, Mr. Void!” Their voice cracked, as the words ran out of his mouth. “I swear this isn’t something we do on the regular, I’d never want to disrespect anyone, or any server- especially not Hermitcraft!” He’d continue, laughing anxiously.
“I’m a huge fan of the work done here! Just, everything I’ve seen- uh, and, and heard, about the Hermits! Fu- frick. Uh. Sorry!” Tubbo finished, practically panting.
While Joe had seemed appreciative and amused, Tommy couldn’t get a read on Xisuma. Not that he particularly cared what either of them felt; he barely understood the meaning of the words from Tubbo, all that mattered was they weren’t about to belittle the other boy.
“Mr. Void.. That- that might be a new one-” The British admin had quietly chuckled easily, shaking his head. “No, no need for that. I’m Xisuma, or X. I’m glad you appreciate our work, the Hermits around here work non-stop. And we’d be glad to try and help you two, yes?”
“We don’t fuckin’ need help- We stay here, or we don’t. We don’t need pity or some shit. If you’re gonna get all fussy at the fuckin’ idea of us staying in the Worldhub, then just leave us be here, I guess. We don’t need anyone’s help or charity.” Tommy growled, his arms crossed stubbornly. He could hear Tubbo sharply inhale beside him, weakly nudging at his side.
The two inhabitants, Hermits, Tommy mused, seemingly shared a look for a moment. Tommy’s blue eyes were unyielding from them, as Tubbo’s quiet babble of scolding went through deaf ears.
Slowly nodding, the helmeted admin stepped back. “You two don’t have anywhere you could go?” He’d ask, hesitantly. Tommy glanced beside him, at the short, blinded boy. Blue from Ghostbur weakly stained his hands.
No one else outside of Dream SMP had learned about Wilbur’s fate, not yet. That certainly wasn’t a conversation either of them was willing to have yet, with anyone. Dream would be mad. Dream would be furious if word got out on the nature of his server.
With that thought, Tommy tore his gaze away from his friend. The boy stared as close as he could to the Admin’s eyes, a challenging look in his hardened blue eyes. “Nowhere.”
Xisuma conceded, nodding. “Fine, then.” He agreed, his tone far softer than it had any right to be, from such an imposing figure. Tommy pondered for a moment if the Admin was taller than him. The possibility made Tommy feel all the more disdain towards him.
Tommy tilted his head, watching expectantly. “Well then? Can we just be- be fuckin’ left here, or some shit? We don’t need to be babysat.”
“Tommy, please, don’t pick a fight here-”
“Yeah, yeah, Tubbo..”
Xisuma winced, nodding. “Sure.. If you want to be left alone, that’s fine. There’s Elytras’ in the room behind us, and rockets in the chest. That’s the only way to get out, besides from the Nether. It should be linked to our Netherhub, so you shouldn’t have too big of a trouble, yeah?”
Tubbo hesitantly nodded, his grip tight around Tommy’s hand. “Alright, then.” Xisuma nodded, glancing towards Joe. Tommy had all but forgotten the man was there, the Southerner having been quietly observing them. “Joe, you’re free to go, my friend.”
To Tommy’s perspective, Joe certainly seemed to have some reservations. Whether they were about leaving teenagers unattended or leaving strangers in their server, the blond wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, Joe accepted his fate, nodding breezily before enderpearling his way out of the spawn.
Xisuma turned back to the two, one final time. Tommy didn’t miss the way that Xisuma flinched at Tubbo’s large scars, nearly growling when he saw the admin’s reaction.
“You two have been competing in MCC.” That caught Tubbo, off-guard. The brunnett’s brows furrowed together, tilting his head. “Huh? How do you know that-”
“My Hermits have been competing there for a good while. I need to keep track of them all, I haven’t missed the team announcements.” Xisuma explained breezily, something akin to fondness in his tone. “The other Hermits said that they love MCC, and the other participants. And that they trust almost all of them- don’t take advantage of that, alright?”
Quietly scoffing, Tommy looked away. Beside him, Tubbo nodded. “We’ll try- thank you. For letting us stay here, just for now.”
Despite the situation, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the idea of being in a Hermitcraft world. He hadn’t been able to hear about, or see anything about their recent achievements in a long while.
“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll add you two to the communication connection. Most of the Hermits have a..Tendency of getting themselves in trouble, quite a bit. Don’t be alarmed if someone spawns, they’re almost never here long enough to be dragged in,” He spoke casually, easily. Tommy wondered for a moment what exactly their definition of trouble was.
“Someone will be here to check on you, soon. Don’t get yourselves hurt, please. We’re happy to help here.” He continued, glancing between the two. Tubbo fidgetted, nodding numbly, as he could practically hear Tommy roll his eyes beside him.
Quiet mechanical whirring buzzed as holographic, shimmering bee-like wings expanded behind him. “Good, then.” Xisuma dipped his head, before familiar red-and-white rockets appeared in his hands.
Before Tommy could lung to cover Tubbo’s ears, Xisuma had already taken off. White particles were left behind him, but the expected boom never came, merely a small pop and smoke. The sight of them, nonetheless, couldn’t help but leave a bitter taste in Tommy’s mouth.
While Tubbo was visibly startled, cringing and nearly tumbling over, he didn’t feel his chest constricting the way it usually would, typically. They’d both consider it a win, for now. Tubbo fell over into Tommy’s arm, as his best friend pulled him into a side hug.
They both slid down against the wall. The conversation alone had taken out all remaining energy they had left in them. Tommy’s gaze surveyed his friend for a moment. “So,” He said pointedly, Tubbo lifting his head to face him.
“What the fuck was that, and what the hell is Hermitcraft?”
#dream smp fic#whitelist au#dream smp#hermitcraft#hermitcraft fic#mika-posts#mcyt fic#bets against the void fic#tubbo underscore#tommyinnit#mcyt fanfiction
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From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC
Jax's sister must hide from the revenge of SAMCRO enemies, goes to Mayans MC Santo Padre. And he catches the eye of a la presidente.
Chapters 6/20
Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. They will accept any attention and criticism :)
Part 5
Pov Bishop
I sat in Templo alone until late, wondering what might go wrong. And in what swamp we got into, I did not come home. I preferred to stay here, especially since Olivia was spending her first night here. I installed myself in my dorm, woke up as usual before 7 am. I took a quick shower and went to the club kitchen for coffee. My attention was drawn to the noise outside, I looked at the watch hanging above the door. 7:23 a.m. showed the clues, theoretically no one should be here. I grabbed a cup of coffee and went outside, stood on the porch and looked around the terrace. And then I saw her, she was hiding in the corner of the square. She was wearing tracksuit pants rolled up to her knees and a hooded sweatshirt. Only now I could see that her left leg was also covered with ink. I smiled gently, she had headphones in her ears and jumped steadily. Sweat was flowing from her forehead, I wonder how long she had been on her feet for. Only after a while I noticed that her hands were wrapped with tapes. I looked at the prospectus that came out of her trailer. He came up to me and sat down on the couch next door.
- I have been watching her for over an hour - he smiled - and I already feel sorry for my brother.
- Why? - I wrinkled my eyebrows.
- It was trained by someone who has an idea about fighting. Angel can only have the advantage over her that he is higher. Even his strength won't help him.
- It can be a big harm to his ego - I laughed.
- Yes - he smiled broadly - pressure will you eat breakfast?
- How will you do - I looked at him.
- Sure - he nodded his head.
I came back looking at her, she was walking towards the building.
- Good morning - I smiled at her.
- Good morning - she rolled up the headphones on her hand.
- Training ?
- Just a morning routine - she moved her arms.
- The prospectus is making breakfast - I picked up and followed her - come down in 20 minutes.
- I do not feel like it - she twisted her head.
- Prospect makes good breakfasts - I smiled wide.
- Good - she nodded her head - can we talk calmly afterwards?
- And about what? - I followed her into the club.
- About some rules and duties - she didn't even look at me.
- After breakfast, right ? - I went up to the bar.
- Sure - she nodded her head and went to the apartment.
- Something feels that it can be fun with her - Ezekiel stuck his head in the kitchen.
- My bones say the same thing and they are rarely wrong - I took a breath.
As soon as the food plates touched the bar she came down to us. She slipped on the stool next to me and overtook long colored hair.
- How did you sleep? - I took a look at her.
- I wasn't sleeping much - she purrred under my nose.
- It will get better every day - the prospectus said.
- Save those lovely speeches," she grew wild, "they kicked me out of my own family because my brother had such a vision. Anyway, he decided I must listen.
She was angry, angry with her brother that he sent her away. She was angry that he wanted to protect her when she wanted to fight, to fight for her family. I am not surprised at her, but in time she will understand his actions. She ate breakfast, looked at me and then at the prospectus.
- Thank you, let me know when you have a moment and we will talk.
- Sure - I nodded my head.
When she disappeared in the corridor, the boys entered the club.
- Who has the first shift today? - I looked at them.
- I - Angel spoke to them.
- And I - cried Coco.
- Okay, I nodded my head.
I put the fork on the plates, got up and improved my wick. Everyone was watching me with curiosity, I twisted my head and went to the apartment.
- And the present was worried about me trying to get into her bed - Angel yelled behind me.
The boys roared laughing, I turned to him in front and showed him my middle finger.
- We'll talk about it again, Reyes.
I saw a sudden change on his face, from amusement into fear. He may have been younger, taller and stronger than me, but he was still afraid of me. I moved through the corridor to the stairs and then upstairs, the door was ajar. I knocked quietly and slid my head inside. I looked around the room, sat at a desk with my legs rolled up and headphones in my ears. I smiled at myself, went inside. I approached her and looked over her shoulder. She leaned over the tablet and drew something, only after a while I recognized the drawing. It was the SAMCRO logo, a gloomy reaper. I put my hand on her shoulder, pinned her body and turned her head towards me. She needed a few seconds to relax and pull the headphones out of her ears.
- Fucking-- she murmured.
- I'm sorry - I took one step back - in my defence, I said I was knocking.
Pov Olivia
Only now have I had a real opportunity to look at President Mayans. Numerous wrinkles adorned his face, and a few scars on his cheek and neck were also visible. The mustache was a perfect match for the beard. Slightly gray but still dark, it looked good on him. Dark brown eyes could pierce the human soul. The wide and full lips encouraged to kiss them and every now and then the tongue showing up did not facilitate anything. I twisted my head and returned to the real world.
- What did you want to talk about? - He sat down in the chair and smiled.
I sat down on the chair and leaned my arms against the backrest.
- About the rules of this place - I looked at him - I think that these rules are not much different from those of the Sons, but I prefer to have this clarified.
- Everything that happens in this place is connected with the club stays in this place. You can see a lot of things that you are not allowed to take out of this place. You are a beautiful adult woman, a beautiful adult woman.
I will cut my hand off that by saying these words he blushed. I smiled under my nose and watched him as he continued.
- Some of the young people will certainly want to get into your bed - he breathed - I wouldn't want to...
- You wouldn't want this to happen and cause problems for the club - I interrupted him - don't worry about it. The second time I won't make the same mistake, only what they can get from me is in the mouth.
He laughed and relaxed.
- Feisty like Jackson, something feels like you're gonna put some of my guys up.
- Is that a challenge? - I've been moving my eyebrows a lot.
- I'd love to see how you handle them. - He lit a cigarette - but I'd prefer you and Angel not to go into the ring.
- Why ? - I frowned my eyebrows.
- He is a man, he is bigger, he is stronger and I bet he is agile. I wouldn't want Jackson to twist my head for hurting his sister.
I twisted my head and smiled from ear to ear.
- You really don't believe in my abilities, do you?
- You're a woman," he breathed, "even as Jackson's sister, I don't believe you can fight.
- The challenge accepted will show you all that you don't mess with me. - I laughed - since I'm staying here, I want to repay you somehow. I have seen your kitchen, there is nothing. I can cook for you if you do not have a person who makes breakfasts and other meals for you. I mean, I know how much the club can have classes and how little time to eat, but it's not a good idea to keep eating out.
- Sounds good - he nodded his head - and that's the new phone.
He took the device out of his pocket and put it on the table.
- If you need something, my number is 1, Tazy number 2, prospectus number 3.
- Okay - I nodded my head - I saw the condition of your fridge today, the shopping would be useful.
- Sure, take the brochure and go shopping, I'll give you the money.
- I have my own, no need to - I nodded my head - I just want to help if I'm stuck here anyway.
- I think that Tazie will need help at the junkyard, in the sense that neither of us likes paperwork.
- Sure, at home I kept the whole accounting of the club and a few businesses. I'll be happy to help, I'm not going to sit 24 hours a day in this room because it will go crazy. I'm sorry in advance but I'm sometimes explosive.
- Marcus has already warned me, all right - he nodded his head - until you kill someone.
I smiled, I didn't mean to kill anyone, but it is different.
- I will try.
- Is it even something - he nodded his head - are you drawing?
- Yes - I have risen - it is my passion but also a source of income.
- It is good to combine passion and income.
- Yes, I'm just working on a new inscription for the Sons' sweatshirt.
- I saw - he lifted up - unintentionally, but I saw when you are ready, just come down to us. I will tell the prospectus that you will go shopping.
- Obispo - I spoke to him when he stood in the door.
- Yes ? - He looked at me.
- Thank you for accepting me, I really appreciate it - I smiled.
- There is no need to thank you for that, we will give you a smoke - he laughed - feel at home.
- I appreciate it anyway, I am a stranger.
- Now you are a family, we will take care of you.
I smiled, returned the smile and went out closing the door behind me. I bit my lower lip and fell down on the couch. I dressed up in shorts, a shirt on my shoulders and tied a blue checked shirt through my waist. I made sure the scars on my back were not visible. I was fixing my hair and went to the guys. At the bar, as always, the prospectus was spinning.
- Ezekiel? - I wrinkled my eyebrows - remember well?
- Just Ez - he smiled wide.
- Can we go ? - I slipped the phone in my pocket.
- Sure - he nodded his head - I hope you won't drag me through the unknown how many stores.
- I'm not that kind of woman, I don't like shopping - we went outside.
- Bish we are going shopping, you need something ?
- When you're going, buy a beer, it's on the finish line and something for the fire. Tonight we will make a small sit-down. Take the meat from your father too.
- Sure.
I was looking at the square in front of the club, on the left side under the roof were motorcycles. They were lined up, different than the Sons had, but from a distance they looked quite good. They had a lot of chrome and I had the impression that they were made to attract attention.
Pov Bishop
I got up from the couch and looked at the bus leaving the square. I looked in the direction of the office, Angel stood in the door and smoked a cigarette.
- And you are paid to do nothing ? - I yawned at him.
- Calmly present, a moment of cigarette break.
Part 7
#jax teller#chibs#jackie boy#jackson teller#filip telford#chucky#olivia teller#soa#sons of anarchy#samcro#mayans mc#mayans#bishop losa#angel reyes
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Spring Break (one-shot)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Words: 5905
Prompt: “Try that again and you��ll wind up dead.”
Summary: A collision in JFK International Airport leaves Bucky Barnes with the wrong phone. You can still take photos of your vacation on his, but the nuclear codes are a slightly bigger problem.
Warnings: Swearing, lingerie photos
A/N: Happy spring break (for me at least)! This was written for @ruckystarnes‘ 2K writing challenge—congrats and thanks so much for hosting!! I had a ton of fun :D Thank you also to my wonderful friend @kentuckybarnes for beta reading <3 Hope you enjoy!!
He raced through the terminal, heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. The device in his hand felt heavy, heavier than its half-dozen ounces. It wasn’t the black and charcoal case weighing it down, but the knowledge that it held more deadly information than even Bucky Barnes was comfortable holding.
Bucky scooted around a large tour group, taking the opportunity to shed his garish jacket and toss it under a nearby row of chairs. He glanced down at the phone in his hand and swore under his breath; the battery was flashing, its life all but drained away.
Then it died.
Bucky cursed for real this time, his eyes glued to the now-black screen. How long would it take to boot back up? He chanced a look over his shoulder as he ran on, but his pursuers were nowhere in sight. At least he had—
Slam.
Bucky grunted as he pitched forward, his legs tangling with someone else’s as the phone in his hand went flying. He caught himself on his right arm—the left would have made a very noticeable noise—and rolled away from the woman gasping under him, snatching up his phone.
“Sorry,” he blurted. He barely registered her wince, too busy scanning the terminal.
“Fucking hell,” she gasped. She clambered to her knees with the help of her friend and grabbed her own phone, its case also muted dark colors. “Watch where you’re going, will you?”
Bucky’s ears caught the telltale sound of his pursuers—still too far to be seen, but still far too close for comfort. His eyes flitted briefly over the woman’s face. She was more angry than hurt, at least.
“Sorry,” he said again, and then he ran on.
By the time he made it through security—thank god for his fresh SHIELD badge—Natasha was waiting in her corvette. He dove into the passenger seat. A charge cord was already plugged in, waiting.
“Go, go,” he urged.
“Nice to see you too,” Natasha said drily, but she pulled away from the curb, weaving expertly between cars as Bucky fumbled with the charge cord. He waited with bated breath for the lock screen to come up.
When it did, Bucky gaped. Instead of the plan black background he’d expected, there was a background image. A painting? Was that Monet?
A text message notification slid onto the screen.
Disha: Have fun girl!!! Take lots of pictures of the beach for me while I wither away in the library 😂 😂 😂
Bucky’s eyes bugged out.
“What the fuck?”
—
“I can’t believe we made it,” Mira said. She sagged in her seat, kicking off her flats. “First the train gets delayed, then you have to run into a fucking maniac—”
“Hey,” you said, “he ran into me.” You brandished your arm; you could already feel a bruise forming on your elbow.
“It’s not like you were watching your step.” Mira snorted and leaned forward to peer out the window. “How long before we take off, d’you think?”
“As long as it’s soon, I don’t really care.” You lean back and spread your hands, painting a picture in your mind. “All I want is to be lying under an umbrella with the waves lapping at my feet in less than twenty-four hours. Is that too much to ask?”
“After four months of a New York winter? Hell no.”
You giggled along with Mira. The plane finally drove onto the runway, and in minutes, you were in the skies.
—
“I’m sorry, you what?”
Bucky kicked the doorpost, scowling. “My phone got swapped with some—some girl’s.”
“How the hell did that happen, Buck?”
“They were on my tail,” Bucky snapped. “Airports are busy when they haven’t been evacuated, Steve!”
Steve groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah… Well, now what? Where is it? That phone’s got so many hot secrets on it that someone’s bound to realize we’ve lost it sooner than later.”
“That’s the problem.” Bucky screwed up his face, dreading the inevitable reaction. “I did too good a job encrypting my phone. I’ve got no idea where it is.”
Steve’s eyes popped. He grabbed his hair until it all stood on end. “Bucky! What the fuck! There are nuclear codes on your phone right now!”
“Think I forgot, punk?” Bucky scoffed and flung himself into the nearest chair. “Trust me, if I look calm it’s only so I don’t bust any more holes in Stark’s fancy-ass walls.” He clenched his hands together, the knuckles on his right hand white with tension. “I need the footage from the airport. If we can figure out where she’s goin’—”
“Right.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back down. “I’ll get on it. In the meantime, figure out who this girl is. If the wrong people figure out what she’s packing, she’s gonna be in some deep trouble.”
—
“Hey, can I borrow your charger? Mine’s in the overhead bin.”
“Sure.” Mira unplugged her phone. You plugged yours in and drummed your hands on the armrest between you as you looked out over the Atlantic. Cirrus clouds floated below you, casting wispy shadows along the rippling water miles below. Germs, noisy children, and airports aside, you did love flying.
“Did you change your phone background?” Mira asked.
“Huh?” You glanced at your phone, then snatched it up with a frown. The photo you’d taken of Monet’s Water Lilies was nowhere to be seen. Just a boring black background. “No…” You pressed your thumb to the home button, but it vibrated in your hand and stayed locked. “Weird.” You tried again, rotating your thumb a millimeter this way and that until you were prompted to enter your passcode.
But that didn’t work either.
“What the hell?”
“Wait,” Mira said. She shook her finger in midair, lips parted. “That guy you ran into! He dropped his phone too! Maybe you swapped!”
“Oh nooo,” you groaned. “Fuck! What am I going to do?”
Mira snorted. “You can live without your phone for a week, silly.”
“No I can’t! I was going to take photos! I can’t grab your phone every time I want to take a picture.” Even as you spoke, you thought of something. You swiped up on the strange phone and grinned triumphantly. “Ha! I can still take photos. Whoever’s phone this is is just gonna have to deal.”
You looked out the window again. It was a perfect view—some more clouds now, and the sun hitting the waves… You angled the phone and snapped a photo.
“Do you think they have iCloud?” Mira said.
“Who knows. All I know is that I’m going to stop caring about this little misstep and start enjoying myself.” You stuffed the stranger’s phone under your leg, linked your hands behind your head, and grinned.
—
Bucky took a swig of coffee. Breaking into the stranger’s phone had been insanely easy. He wasn’t used to working with civvie tech. After putting in so much effort to cracking through actual security, this felt absurd. Did she have any idea how easy it was?
Were all civilian phones this easy to get into?
Dear lord.
He pushed the thought aside and focused back on the array of screens. He’d hooked the phone up to the computers in his room, and now it was as simple as scrolling through emails and contact lists, text message histories, photos—
Bucky choked on his coffee. It sloshed in his mug, some spilling over his fingers. He swore, but his eyes were glued to the screen.
The third-to-last picture was um. It was.
Lingerie.
The picture wasn’t even blown up; it was just there, the same size as two dozen others, almost innocent in its placement between a photo of a salad and another of some latte art. Apparently this girl—woman, dear god, she was a fucking woman alright—liked taking photos of food.
And of herself, in a mirror, barely clothed.
The fleeting glimpse he’d gotten of her in the airport had done her zero justice. A scowl was never the best introduction, but… Damn. The difference that the soft lighting and soft smile and soft skin made was fucking huge.
Bucky swallowed and closed the window. He did not need to be seeing that. Distracting, that’s what it was. Unsettling. He shifted in his seat, tugging at his pants.
Data. Right.
He started with the emails. Easy enough. Most of them were forwarded from a university—was she a student? He checked some of the opened emails. There it was—grad student union. Suspicion confirmed. He found her flight receipt in short order. Grand Cayman? He leaned back in his chair to check the calendar on the other wall. Mid-March?
Had to be spring break.
A knock came at his door as he was scanning for any information on hotels or Airbnbs.
“What?” he called.
Natasha poked her head in. “Something popped up,” she said. She held out her tablet, eyes wandering over to his screens. “Your phone’s locked, but she’s still using it.”
“Huh?”
“Camera’s still accessible,” Natasha explained. “Looks like she’s en route to—” She peered over his shoulder and passed him the tablet. “Grand Cayman.”
Bucky stared. His iCloud photos were on display. The whole screen, save the newest photo, were photos of documents he’d temporarily filched from a facility in Irkutsk Oblast. Then, at the bottom right, there was the new photo. It wasn’t Russian documents, and it certainly wasn’t from Irkutsk Oblast. Just sun on the water, with soft clouds hanging in the sky.
It looked a lot nicer than New York at the moment, that was for sure.
“Well, I knew she was gettin’ on a plane.”
“What else have you found out?” Natasha asked.
“Grad student, from the area, on vacation with a friend. Nothing about a hotel so far.”
“Maybe the friend booked it.”
Bucky hummed. Made sense. He did some more digging. The woman didn’t have a banking app on her phone.
Finally, some common sense.
“What now?” Natasha asked. She snagged his discarded mug and finished off his coffee. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can handle so much sugar.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t drink other people’s coffee,” he said snidely. She stuck her tongue out at him, eyes twinkling. Bucky rolled his eyes. “What now? I’m gonna figure out how to get in touch with her without being entirely creepy about it. Don’t want her freakin’ out.”
“Good luck with that,” Natasha said with snort. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, James, I’m sure it’ll be juuust fine.”
—
“Mira, this is too swanky!”
You turned in place, mouth agape. Your hotel room looked right out onto the water, the bed plenty large for both of you and the sheer curtains blowing in the breeze. And there was a table with two chairs, a mini fridge, bathrobes even…
“My dad had a lot of points on his travel rewards card,” Mira said. “And given that we’re graduating in May…” She shrugged a shoulder, smiling coyly. “We deserve a little treat.”
“Well, bless your dad!” You squeezed Mira in a tight hug, then ran to the window. The sun was low in the sky, almost skimming the horizon, light glittering off the gentle waves. “This is absolutely heaven.”
You opened up the camera on the stranger’s phone and snapped a photo of the water. You lowered the phone and bit your lip. Did the man who’d bumped into you have iCloud? Could he see the photos you were taking? So far, you’d only taken shots of the ocean. Was it safe to take a photo of yourself? It’s not like you needed one, but more than one person had asked to see pics.
Wait.
This guy had the same phone as you. That meant he had the same charger. That meant—
“Mira, can I use your phone?” you blurted.
“Uh, what for?” Mira looked up from her perch on the bed, where she was sorting through her suitcase. She’d already taken out her two bathing suits, but you ignored the cute frills in favor of sticking your hand in her face.
“I’m going to text my phone! Maybe that guy will have charged my phone by now, and then we can figure out how the hell I’m gonna get my phone back after we get home.”
“Ohhhh.” Mira proffered her phone. “Just don’t go giving him your passwords or anything,” she warned.
“Are you kidding? I’m not stupid.” You flopped down in the chair by the window, the breeze tickling your skin, and got to typing.
—
Mira: Hi, this is the person you ran into at the airport. We switched phones after you knocked us over. We should figure out how to get our phones back. Can you send me an email at [email]?
—
“Oh thank god,” Bucky muttered. He reread the text, grateful beyond words that she’d beaten him to the punch. He’d been about to send this Mira a text of his own, but couldn’t figure out how to do so without exposing himself. Now, he had an out. He opened a new browser window and sent off an email from one of his many covers, hoping his desperation wasn’t too obvious.
—
“This James guy seems pretty desperate to get his phone back,” you said. You were lying next to Mira on the bed, the BBC muted on the tv on the other side of the room. Mira, bless her, was letting you use her phone to check your email.
“Who can blame him?” Mira laughed. “Look at you!”
“Hey, these things are expensive!” You couldn’t help but giggle in return, embarrassed though you were. “Besides, pretty much everyone’s a little addicted. So what’s on the docket for tomorrow? Breakfast downstairs, then beach?”
Mira started to respond, but her jaw dropped. “Look!” she gasped.
You stared at the tv. Mira scrambled for the remote, and with the push of a button a crisp English voice piped out of the speakers.
“—engers are apparently in the midst of a scandal of their own today, as can be seen from this chase in JFK International Airport in New York. Sergeant James Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, is seen here fleeing from members of a Russian terror organization known as—”
Mira muted the television.
“What the fuck,” you breathed. You stared down at James’ phone, then back at the tv. A severe headshot of the Winter Soldier stared back at you. You’d seen his face for a second, maybe two, but there was no denying it.
You had the Winter Soldier’s phone.
“What the fuck?!” you yelped.
“Omigod, be quiet,” Mira hissed, clapping a hand over your mouth. You made frantic noises into her uncomfortably strong grip until she dropped her hand.
“Sorry, sorry,” you said quietly. Your shoulders were up around your ears, your bra straps digging into your skin. “I—what? What the fuck? This was almost funny before, but this?” You gestured wordlessly to the black-cased phone at your feet. “This is unreal.”
Mira reached out and picked up the phone gingerly. “I wonder what’s on here,” she mused.
“Well I don’t,” you said. “Dear god, how many state secrets are on that thing?!”
“Yes, well, of the two of us, I’m the polisci major, so…”
Mira’s cheeky grin was enough to break the tension. You chuckled, shoulders dropping a little.
“I suppose this is what I get for running late this morning.” You collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the smooth ceiling. “Mira, do you think we’ll be okay?”
Mira grabbed your hand and squeezed it fondly. “Of course we’ll be okay, babe.” She got up to turn off the lights and crawled back in beside you. “Now get some beauty sleep. We’ve got a beach day tomorrow!”
—
“Bad news, Barnes,” Tony announced. He tosses a dossier onto the briefing table. “Someone tipped off the news. BBC, CNN, Fox—they’re all over your little jaunt at JFK.”
Bucky groaned. He was tired enough—a midnight briefing was never fun, but this? Today? He’d had it. “Seriously?” He opened the folder and winced. There it was, a blurry screenshot of his little tumble to the ground. He glanced at Steve and Natasha; both of them were wincing, too. “Fuck.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” Tony said. He gestured for Bucky to turn the page.
Same screenshot, but it was blown up even more. And there, easily visible, were the two phones on the floor.
“We intercepted that particular picture on the dark web an hour ago.” Tony sat on the edge of the table right next to Bucky, his foot tapping in the empty air. “There’s a race to see if you ended up with the wrong phone.”
Bucky’s blood ran cold. “What?”
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance you snatched up the wrong phone,” Tony said. “So…” He shrugged. “They’re hedging their bets in favor of you being an absolute idiot.” Tony’s face had lost all traces of humor. “That civilian, not to mention her friend or the rest of Grand Cayman Island, is in serious danger right now. All it’s gonna take is one trigger-happy goon, and—”
“I get it!” Bucky snapped. His brain supplied him with plenty of fodder: her in her lingerie, her in a bikini, her in jeans and ankle boots like she had been at the airport, blood spreading around her in a puddle. “How fast can you get me to Grand Cayman?”
—
You woke with a lazy stretch as morning light filtered in through the curtains.
Mira was already in the shower, humming loud enough that you could hear her from bed. Her phone was charging on the far bedside table; you’d shut James’ phone off before you’d fallen asleep, not particularly interested in dealing with its existence while you were sleeping off the flight.
You padded over to the window and smiled at the view of the sun-kissed ocean. God, this place really was heaven.
A sharp buzzing from the bed disrupted the serene setting. You wandered over to Mira’s phone, curious.
Your heart leapt out of your chest. It was you calling.
You glanced at the bathroom door, blood rushing in your ears, before you snatched up Mira’s phone and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Mira?”
Your breath caught at the familiar voice on the other end. “No. Is this James?”
A pause.
“Yeah. Yeah it is.” James let out a low breath. “You, uh…”
“I saw the news,” you said quickly. Would he understand? You weren’t sure how much was safe to say.
“Oh. Um, good.”
You sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the charge cord. “Are you alright?” you asked.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He sounded bewildered. “Are you okay?”
“Well, my vacation just got a little more complicated, but yeah, I’m fine.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. For all that he was a fearless assassin, he was worried. It was… cute.
“I don’t think ‘a little’ quite covers it,” he said quietly.
You froze. “What do you mean?”
“I fucked up,” James said bluntly. “People are going to try and come after you.”
A shudder ran through you. You clenched your free hand into a fist, the cord cutting into your fingers. You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
“I’m on my way to you,” he continued.
“What?! How?”
His low chuckle cuts straight through your fear. “You said you saw the news.”
“Oh,” you say stupidly. “Right.” James Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, Avenger. Of course he’d figured out where you were. Hell, he had your phone. No doubt the security on a normal iPhone was nothing to a guy like that. You ran your tongue along your lips as you thought of how sturdy he’d felt barreling into you.
Mm.
“So,” James said, cutting into your thoughts. “I should be there in a few hours. Can you keep to yourself til then?”
“No way! I’m not holing myself up in my hotel room on my spring break,” you said. “I’ll lay low, sure, but—”
“You do know your life is at risk, right?”
“I’m a woman. My life is always at risk,” you snapped. “I know how to handle myself, okay?”
“You—” James cut himself off. “Listen. I obviously can’t tell you what to do, but I really don’t want your death on my conscience. Please be careful—” He broke off again.
Had he been about to say your name? You suspected so. The worry in his voice softened you. Maybe he wasn’t thinking of you specifically, but… well, it was nice to pretend. Despite the unflattering photo from the BBC, you knew the man was gorgeous. Was it so bad to imagine he cared?
“Alright,” you murmured. “I’ll be careful.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I’ll see you soon.”
—
Bucky had flown across the globe countless times. To Australia, to Irkutsk, to Antarctica. From New York to Grand Cayman in one of Tony’s jets was less than four hours.
But on the other end was a woman with guts, with an inner fire and yet enough reason to listen to his advice, with fucking lingerie photos on her phone. He shifted in his seat and stared down at the water below.
He’d never had a longer flight.
—
Three hours later, you were fuming. You couldn’t believe you’d agreed to stay inside. Mira was out on the beach below, and every so often she’d wave up at the window. She’d made friends with a gaggle of bubbly undergrads that you could hear from the hotel. You were so fucking bored from sitting here watching sitcoms and drumming your fingers on the windowsill.
Mira had understood, of course, but still, you were beyond ready to take yourself and your new bathing suit into the water. You were already dressed for the beach—sultry bathing suit, a sheer white cover-up skating along your thighs, strappy sandals to save your feet from the burning sand. Your sunglasses and floppy hat were waiting on the rumpled bed.
Dammit, when the hell was James going to get here? He’d said a few hours, and it had already been three…
If you had to wait another whole hour, you were going to scream.
You wandered over to the hallway door and peered out of the eyehole. No one. The door was double-locked. Your hand hovered by the deadlock as curiosity teased your brain. Would a little peek hurt?
The elevator dinged in the hall, and your heart leapt into your throat. You pressed your eye back against the peephole and held your breath. Two men, dressed conspicuously in dark, thick clothes, wandered slowly down the hall towards your room. They passed your door, though one of them looked straight at the peephole with narrowed eyes.
You jerked away, heart pounding. They were scoping the place out! They knew where you were!
Mira had left her phone with you in anticipation of James’ next call. You typed in the passcode with shaking fingers and locked yourself in the bathroom, hoping the strange men wouldn’t be able to hear you from the hallway. You dialed your phone number. Every ring went on forever.
Finally, James picked up.
“I’m almost there. What’s wrong?” he said without preamble.
“Oh thank god,” you whispered. You pressed a hand to your thudding heart. The edge had already come off at the sound of his soft baritone. “I think someone knows my room. Well, there’s two of them—white men, heavy clothes. Not vacationers. They were going down my hallway, but they looked right at my room…”
“Well, keep the door locked,” James said. “I assume it’s locked.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yrs. It’s double-locked. Should I stuff a chair under the doorknob too?” you asked sarcastically.
“Might as well,” he said. There was a touch of humor in his voice. “No harm in being thorough.”
A little giggle burst out of you, and you stuffed your knuckles in your mouth to stifle yourself. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Barnes,” you teased, voice low.
His breath hitched, and a sudden flush spread across your face and down your neck. Did you really just say that?
Oops.
“Right,” he said, voice slightly strangled. “Well, I’ll be there in five. Don’t get killed before then.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Put the chair under the doorknob. I’ll call when I’m there.”
He hung up. You cradled the phone to your ear, longing to hear his voice again.
Five minutes.
For James Barnes, you could wait that long.
—
Bucky’s disguise was good. He looked like a buff hipster. Round sunglasses, a v-neck white tee, fitted jeans with more stretch than their appearance let on, and his customary black boots rounded it all out. The backpack was all straight lines, and far too small for a reasonable amount of stuff. He’d had to leave most of his favorite guns behind. Still, he had a few knives tucked away, not to mention the pistols in easy reach.
Then there was the holographic cover for his left arm, though Tony, the bastard, had given it a tattoo that Bucky never would have considered. Watercolor flowers and vines crawled up from the pretend wrist right up to his shoulder. Bucky didn’t even know if his real skin would hold a tattoo, what with the advanced healing. Would his body just flush the ink away?
He wasn’t particularly interested in finding out.
Did she like tattoos?
Bucky shook his head as he climbed out of the rental car and squinted up at the swanky hotel. He whistled under his breath. Damn, this was almost as fancy as the sort of places Tony liked. No doubt the rooms all had nice, big beds…
“Enough,” he muttered to himself.
He eased his way through the milling tourists and headed straight past reception. No one questioned him. He looked like he belonged. He made sure of it.
Bucky bypassed the elevators for the sweeping staircase and climbed up two steps at a time. Her room was on the second floor, down the western corridor. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the two men she’d described loitering halfway down the hall. He ducked down a side hallway before they noticed him, heart hammering in his chest.
It was one thing to give her advice over the phone. Seeing two men at her door, men he recognized from his Irkutsk Oblast mission?
This was something else entirely.
He knew almost nothing about her, but what he did know—and what he’d seen—painted a picture he wasn’t likely to soon forget. If something happened to her, with him so damn close…
No.
Bucky whipped off the sunglasses and hooked them in his collar. He slid a semi-automatic pistol out of his belt and let out a slow breath as he turned off the safety. He let the memory of her face flicker in his mind one last time before he pushed it aside, saving it for later.
A bang echoed down the hallway.
Bucky ran silently down the hall. Neither man had noticed him yet. They were clambering inside the room, forty feet away, now twenty, and then the taller one glanced over.
His eyes widened comically.
Bucky fired at the man’s kneecaps in rapid succession. He collapsed with a howl, curling up into a fetal position. The other leapt inside the room with a grunt. Bucky covered the last few meters and skidded to a stop by the bust-open door, eyes wide and gun at the ready.
—
The lamp shattered against the shorter goon’s head just as he jumped to his feet.
He wavered in place. You scampered back breathlessly, snatching up James’ phone and scanning the room for another weapon.
Then the goon collapsed face-down at your feet. You sagged in relief, and then you realized someone else was there.
In the open doorway, behind the knocked-over chair and through the open door, stood James. His eyes were wide as he took you in. You stared back at him, lips parted in surprise. He looked totally different than the last time you’d seen him. He looked… suspiciously like a hipster.
Your lips twitched. You slapped your free hand over your mouth before you burst out laughing. This—this was James Barnes, Winter Soldier?
No way.
James’s lips twitched.
“Well, nice to see you too,” he said, smiling. He turned to grab the man from the hallway, giving you a perfect view of his ass in those tight pants. You swallowed as he dragged the whimpering man in.
“You’re getting blood on the carpets,” you told him.
“Eh, we’ll leave a big tip.”
The whimpering man wriggled against James’ hold. James tossed him against the wall and shut the splintered door, double-locking it and setting the chair back under the doorknob.
As his back was turned, the still-conscious goon started reaching in his belt. You rolled your eyes.
“Ahem,” you said.
James turned and placed a well-aimed kick to the man’s busted knee. “Try that again and you’ll wind up dead,” he warned. His low growl sent an involuntary shudder through you that—thank god—he didn’t seem to notice. He dragged the unconscious man, the one you’d so excellently knocked out, beside him.
“Want something to tie them up with?” you asked.
James lit on you with such a bright grin your heart skipped a beat. Hipster disguise or not, the man was gorgeous.
“So thoughtful, too,” he murmured. “Thanks, doll.”
A blush rose to your cheeks as you grabbed Mira’s charge cord and tossed it to him. He caught it deftly and tied the goons’ hands together between their backs.
James stood back and crossed his arms as he looked down at the two men on the carpet. “Nice to see you two again,” he said, conversationally. “What brings you here, Yudin?”
The tall one, Yudin, spat at James, who tutted and shook his head. In a flash, his left hand was at Yudin’s throat, stretching his neck uncomfortably high.
You blink, confusion racketing through you as you stare at the pale skin and the watercolor tattoo of James’ left arm. Doesn’t the Winter Soldier have a metal arm? Is the whole thing fake? Did he get a new arm?
“Talk,” James growled.
“Your—phone,” Yudin croaked. “They thought—”
“Who?”
“Общество змей,” Yudin gasped. He wriggled in James’ grip. James threw him back to the floor.
“Спасибо.” He kicked Yudin on the side of the head; the Russian collapsed in a silent heap.
At last, James turned back to you. His sculpted face was lined with concern, and you realized belatedly that your hands were shaking slightly. You laughed nervously and clutched James’ phone tighter.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes on your face.
“Well, they’re the ones tied up and unconscious, so yes, I think I am.” You let out a slow breath and sat heavily on the bed, James’ phone tucked between your legs. “Thank you, James. You came just in time.”
“Almost too late,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, gave the goons a last look-over, and came to stand in front of you. You gazed up at him, heart racing, as he studied you. He reached a hand out, but it fell back before it touched your face. “They didn’t get to you?”
“No,” you said. You swallowed. He was so close you could practically feel his body heat. Your eyes darted along his body, from the possibly fake tattoo to his thick chest and the pulse point at his neck. Warmth tickled at you, from your face to your neck and down your body. “They didn’t get to me.”
You did, though.
James bit his lip, his eyes as hungry as you felt. Only now did you realize how exposed you really were. There he was, pistol tucked into his belt, fully dressed, while you were in a flimsy cover-up and a bathing suit that showed all too much.
From the look in his eyes, you wondered if to him, it showed all too little.
A fresh wave of heat flooded your face, and you finally looked away. Meekly, you held out his phone.
“Huh? Oh.”
James took his phone from your hands, the brief brush of your fingers electric. Did he feel it? You couldn’t tell. You were afraid to look, afraid that all the feelings swirling inside you were affecting you alone.
But James put a finger under your chin and tilted your face up. His eyes were bright, a flush high in his cheeks. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
“It was worth it,” he murmured.
Your eyes widened, but before you could speak he ducked to press his lips to yours.
Roaring filled your ears as you gasped into James’ kiss. His hand slid around the back of your neck, hot and heavy against your skin. His lips were like fire. You grabbed hold of his shirt, desperate for purchase. You fell back, legs still dangling off the bed, and tugged James down with you. He grunted, caught himself on his other hand, but he didn’t let go of you and he definitely didn’t stop kissing you. He ran his tongue along your lips, prompting a moan. Only then did he pull away.
If his eyes had been bright before, they were smoldering now. You swallowed and pressed your hands against the broad planes of his chest.
“Totally worth it,” you agreed breathlessly.
James’ answering grin was brighter than the sun. You traced the shape of his mouth with your eyes, committing it to memory, but then he was kissing you again, and you realized there was no way you could ever forget the feel of his mouth on yours.
When you broke the kiss, desperate for air, he hovered with his mouth a hair’s breadth from yours. You lay dizzy beneath him, one hand trailing along his torso while the other tucked his hair behind his ear.
“I thought you seemed a little desperate for your phone back,” you murmured.
He dropped his head against your shoulder and chuckled. “Yeah…” He rolled to lie on his side next to you, one hand propping his head up as the other reached into his back pocket. “Here. I’ve got yours, fully charged.”
You squealed happily and grabbed your phone. Lots of unread texts, but it still had the Monet lockscreen, and it opened under your thumbprint without question.
“Oh, thank you so much, James!” You kissed him again, brief but happy.
“Call me Bucky?” he asked.
You glanced at him, still smiling. “Alright. Bucky.” Then you remembered what you’d said not even fifteen minutes before. A coy smirk grew on your face. You blinked innocently up at him, one finger tapping your chin. “Are you sure you don’t prefer Sergeant Barnes?”
Bucky positively growled. He grabbed you by the waist and dragged you up the bed, eyes burning as he settled on his hands and knees over you. Every last ounce of air left your lungs as he dipped his head to suck a mark against your collarbone. By the time he pulled away, you were putty in his hands.
“Doll,” he said, voice thick and his eyes carrying a world of meaning, “you are about to find out.”
A/N: I don’t speak Russian, so it might be wrong! It translates to “Serpent Society” (which is a canon Marvel evil organization) and “Thanks.”
Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :D
#rs2kmcuchallenge#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#mcu imagine#bucky barnes x you#becca writes
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Okay so I’ve had my iPad Pro for a couple days now so I wanna share some initial thoughts on what it’s been like
Okay first up, I’m still getting used to the gestures and where everything on the keyboard is. Also not having a home button is WEIRD. But being able to split the screen is fun, I’m gonna enjoy being able to look up references, chat with friends, or watch shows while I draw!
I went with the smaller 11 inch since I wanted a drawing tool that’s more portable and easily handheld, and I’m glad that I did! It’s roughly the same size as my old iPad Air but with more screen space, so it feels natural to hold. It’s nice to be able to draw digitally anywhere, not just at my desk or the dining room table. I think the 12.9 inch would be nice as well but also more difficult for me to hold onto while drawing, since my right arm gets tired quickly from holding large/heavy objects due to my mobility problems.
Drawing with the Apple Pencil feels really nice and only took a few minutes for me to get the hang of, but I might consider looking into getting one of those screen protectors that feels more like paper. I like that it clips magnetically to the iPad to charge, but as a lefty I don’t love that it only charges on the right side. I could always hold it upside down, though!
Procreate is amazing so far! Based on my experiences with drawing apps on other devices, I was worried that it would be too simplified and not come with enough features, but in fact it has more functionality and customizability than what I use on a laptop (like including text? I don’t have to open an entirely different program just to type something on my drawing like I’ve been doing with SAI? Incredible!) It feels more intuitive already, so that’s great! In a way, the level of customization is somewhat overwhelming and it’s definitely gonna be a while before I figure out how to draw in my usual digital style, but that’s all gonna be part of the fun and may lead to some new stylistic experiments!
I think the one downside I’ve noticed so far is that since this is serving as a drawing tool AND a personal tablet, there’s a lot of room for procrastination. But then again, my laptop is also used for drawing and entertainment, so this might not even be an issue. In fact, I think having an iPad Pro is gonna make me more willing to draw! One of the biggest motivational hurdles I’ve had with drawing over the past few months is the feeling of “ugh, I have to leave my comfy spot on the couch, set up my laptop, plug in my tablet, wait for it to load and possibly reset the drivers... I guess I’ll just stay here and watch youtube videos on my iPad...” But now I can just pick up the pencil and BAM! Art time! And like I said before, I can do this anywhere I bring it, not just wherever there’s a table. I can draw on my bed!!
Oh wait I forgot one more thing: it feels so GOOD to have a device that displays colors correctly! The color balance on my laptop has been absolutely fucked ever since I got it and I’ve never been able to fix it! It’s been a real pain in the ass to draw for the past 4 years because I’ve had to constantly counterbalance the issues but now if I wanna make something blue I can just use blue instead of “blue but slightly less blue than I actually want it to be”
So yeah, I’m very happy with the iPad Pro so far and I’m looking forward to learning the ins and outs of drawing on it. Thank you to everyone who shared their wisdom with me while I was shopping around!
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The Devil in Me Ch. 20
Chapter Twenty:
Noah:
I felt disgusting.
While my stomach was feeling better, I took full advantage.
I was able to get up and take a quick shower.
Baird could find me when he was ready to let me in on his plan.
I know he said it would just be twenty minutes, but I couldn’t just sit there and wait.
When I got back to my room, Baird was standing there expectantly.
“Oh,” he said, surprised, “Are you feeling better?”
He looked at the tablet in his hand to check my vitals.
I wasn’t wearing anything so that he could check them.
“Noah,” he said, “You know the rules.”
“I just needed a shower,” I stated, “Besides, I was going to put them back on when I got to my room.”
I grabbed the watch off the nightstand and bound it to my wrist.
“See,” I showed him the device strapped to me.
“Yes,” he said, “I can see it.”
I sat on my bed and sighed.
There was this sensation under my skin that I couldn’t shake.
It wasn’t painful, it was just annoying.
It almost felt like I had an itch that I couldn’t scratch, no matter how hard I dug my nails in.
“Your vitals do not look much better,” Baird stated.
I didn’t feel much better, so I didn’t really expect the numbers to change.
“You will be glad to know,” he said, “Shay is on her way here.”
I looked up at him quickly to see if he was joking or not.
“What?” I gasped, “She is?”
“I thought she might be able to help.”
Or she might make things harder.
I didn’t want to think too much about it.
Maybe I should have jerked off in the shower.
“When?” I asked.
He glanced down at the tablet again.
“Soon.”
Fuck.
“You will be glad to know that while you were showering,” Baird said, “I took care of tidying up for you.”
I didn’t even realize that he really did.
There were no clothes on the floor.
Even the smell of vomit was gone.
I was thankful.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded, “Just make sure that you are ready.”
“Where are we meeting?” I asked.
There were a few different rooms we used for the volunteer program. I just needed to know which one to go to.
“She is coming here,” Baird said.
“I know,” I said, “But which room?”
Why did I feel so tired? If I couldn’t sleep, at least I should feel more awake.
“Noah,” he said, meeting my eyes, “She is coming here, to your room.”
Was I shaking?
Baird actually blurred as I stared at him.
“She is?” I asked, “Is that really a good idea?”
“Most likely not,” he said, “But you need to sleep.”
How will this even work?
“What do I do?” I asked.
Wait, did I really just ask him that?
Baird looked back at me with a started expression.
“Your body is exhausted,” he said, “Let us hope that means that you will be tired to change and harm her.”
He had a point. Hopefully, my body was too out of it to do much.
Baird’s attention went back to the device in his hands.
“She is almost here.”
I wanted to ask him how he knew that.
That’s right, Olsen wanted them tracked.
My brain was dead.
“I am going to go meet her out front,” Baird stated, “Make sure you are ready.”
I nodded, “Thank you.”
He only nodded before leaving my room.
I was definitely shaking.
Part of me was thankful that I couldn’t feel her yet.
I think a small part of me was afraid.
There was no doubt that just being near her made me a bit anxious. I wanted her.
I took in a deep breath before looking at what I was wearing.
The light gray sweat pants were a bit snug. I was oddly both thankful and worried about wearing them.
Around the waist of the sweats were black, as well as two random lines going down at the left side.
I decided on wearing a long-sleeve white thermal shirt.
This chill wasn’t going away, and I think it was best to avoid any significant skin contact with her.
I laid back on my bed, hoping to try and relax a bit.
My eyes shut, and I took in a deep breath.
I only thought it for a split second, but I wanted to try and find her before I could feel her.
I took another deep breath, hoping it would help me start to focus.
Shay.
I heard her name over and over again in my head until I felt her.
The feeling hit me so hard it knocked the wind out of me.
I felt warmth, and worry.
It was like the sun imprinted on her skin, and just being near her felt like standing in the sunlight.
I wasn’t even near her yet, and I could feel it.
Something inside of me felt wrong.
A small groan escaped my lips as I felt her getting closer.
The only feeling I could compare it to was an impending orgasm.
The closer she got, the better and more painful it felt.
It felt like a build-up of pressure inside of me.
I wanted her here faster.
The ache in me was intense now.
Only it was too late to run away.
The sensation of needles poking into my palms started.
She was close.
She was so close.
A light knock on my door pulled me out of whatever trance I was in. The focus I had shattered.
“Noah,” Baird said, “We’re coming in.”
I sat up the second the knob turned.
Shay’s eyes were the first thing I locked onto.
She grinned at me.
“I heard you were much worse,” she said, “You look just fine to me.”
I wanted to keep my eyes on her face, but I couldn’t.
What the fuck was she wearing?
I could see the tight workout shorts cling to her thighs.
They were too short. They weren’t even mid-thigh.
I could see the entirety of her side because of the open-sided white tank top she wore. Her black sports bra matched the shorts.
My body felt like I was convulsing.
I grit my teeth so hard that my jaw ached.
Was it her intention to make me lose my shit?
I pulled my shirt over my head.
“Noah,” Baird gasped.
I tossed the shirt at Shay, “Put it on.”
She stared at me even though the shirt was in her hands.
Don’t stare at me like that.
Her eyes were a little confused, but something else was there too.
“Put the shirt on,” Baird said from beside her.
She snapped out of it to put the shirt on.
That also was a terrible idea.
Seeing her wear my shirt, fucking hell.
My eyes wandered down, and it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything under the white fabric.
I had to shut my eyes.
I shut them tightly, and I even placed my hand over just so I couldn’t see.
“The second drawer,” I pointed in the direction of my dresser, “Grab the black sweat pants on the top.”
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t think about what I shouldn’t wear here.”
I heard her move forward, and then the sound of the drawer opening made me finally start to calm down.
“You did say that you ran here,” Baird stated.
She ran here?
Was she that worried?
I couldn’t help myself, I had to look at her.
My hand dropped, and I saw her pull the sweats to her waist.
She looked way too good right now.
Even though she was completely covered, I was still feeling it.
She opened the drawer under the one she was just in.
“Are you looking for something?” I asked.
She turned to look at me.
Her cheeks were flushed, and she was way too focused on my eyes.
I didn’t realize I had that effect on her too.
“Where do you keep your shirts?” she asked.
“Top drawer,” I said.
I leaned to my side to rest on my elbow.
I wanted to tease her.
“Why do you need a shirt?”
I was still very aware that Baird was in the room. I was thankful that he was silent.
“I think you know why,” she said.
She pulled out a grey short-sleeve shirt with three or four buttons down the neck.
I wasn’t ready for it to hit me in the face.
The shirt obscured my vision, so all I could hear was her laughter.
I think Baird might have been on to something here.
I feel a thousand times better.
“So, what is the plan?” Shay asked.
I pulled the shirt from my face to put it on.
“There was no real plan,” Baird stated, “But I do have an idea.”
I looked over at him, and he looked a little concerned.
This is your idea, why are you making that face?
“Shay,” Baird said, “I am going to need you to get on the bed.”
What?
-
Shay:
“Shay,” Baird said, “I am going to need you to get on the bed.”
“What?” I asked.
Me on the bed? Me and Noah on the bed?
Together?
He has to be joking.
I glanced over at Noah, and he looked nervous about it too.
“Are you sure?” Noah asked.
Baird looked like he didn’t like it when people second-guessed his decisions.
He looked irritated.
“Shay,” Baird said, “You’ll be at the head of the bed.”
“And I’ll be over here?” Noah asked, scooting towards the foot of the bed.
“Not exactly.”
What the hell was this man thinking?
“Shay, please,” Baird gestured towards the bed.
Noah pulled the comforter down so that I could see the matching sheet underneath.
I took my phone out of my purse, then slipped it into my pocket.
I kicked off my two different colored shoes before finding my place where I was told to.
Fortunately, the bed was against the wall, so I was able to sit against the corner of the wall.
Noah looked at me. He was clearly nervous.
This was new to me.
“Now what?” Noah asked.
He took in a breath, “Shay, pull those pillows in front of you.”
I put the pillows on my lap, but Baird shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Put one behind you, so that you are comfortable,” he said, “Then place the others on your lap.”
I wasn’t sure if I liked where this was going or not.
Once I was in a comfortable position, I moved the pillows around.
There weren’t that many.
“Noah,” Baird said, “You’re going to lay where she puts the pillows.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy look so nervous before in my life.
He was acting differently than usual. Maybe something really was wrong with him.
Baird told me that he hasn’t slept in a few days.
“Baird,” Noah said, “That is a horrible idea.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Try it before you dismiss the idea,” Baird stated.
My gaze went to Noah again to see what he was going to do.
He was staring at me.
“How do you feel about this?” he asked.
I was a little surprised by his question.
“This is new,” he said, “I don’t know what is going to happen.”
My words came out before I had the chance to think about it.
“I’m with Baird on this one,” I said, “Try it before we decide if it’s a bad idea or not.”
He took in a deep breath before he smiled lightly.
“Alright,” he said, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I nodded.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he asked the question, or if it was how he asked it.
My whole body shivered.
“Just a second,” I said, moving the pillows again.
“He will have to have some contact with you,” Baird stated, “Even if it is just a little bit.”
“Okay,” I said, staring down at the two pillows.
How was I going to maneuver them so that he wasn’t directly on me?
I was a little worried.
I already knew that I could get reactions out of him, just by being here.
What would happen if he was nestled between my legs?
The way Noah looked at me made me a little more nervous than I already was.
He must be thinking the same thing as me.
His head was hung down a little, but his eyes were on me.
It did too many things to me.
My right leg was out in front of me against the wall, while my left was bent inward.
“Are you sure that will be comfortable for you?” Baird asked, “Once he falls asleep, you won’t be able to move.”
I knew that I was overthinking, but what if something happened?
I took in a breath before extending my left leg, and once again adjusting the pillows.
“Okay,” I said, “I’m good.”
I was.
My back didn’t hurt, and my legs didn’t feel cramped.
“Noah,” Baird gestured for him to move forward.
Noah got up to his knees, and I watched as he crawled closer to me.
It felt like my heart was hammering in my chest.
He stopped right in front of me.
“I’m going to lie on my back,” he said.
I nodded as he turned around, and he was sitting in front of me.
I watched his shoulders rise as he took in a breath.
“Come on,” I said.
I placed my hand on his shoulder to guide him back.
My left leg moved out a little, and my knee bent.
His head was on the pillow that was on my left thigh. It was the one not against the wall. There were too many moving variables on this side.
His weight on me felt good.
His eyes opened, and he looked at me.
“Is this alright?” he asked.
I nodded. It took me a second to realize that when I nodded, I jostled both of us.
A small chuckle came from Noah.
It put a smile on my face.
Noah’s eyes shut again, and it looked like he was trying to take even breaths.
I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t stop myself.
My hand came up to rest on the side of his face.
Part of me thought that his eyes would open, or that he would run away.
He didn’t do either of those things.
His face turned into my palm.
My thumb brushed lightly against his cheek.
I could stare at this boy forever.
The trust it must take for him to lie so defenselessly in front of me.
I moved my hand so that my knuckles could touch his face.
My eyes scanned the features of his face.
He has long dark lashes.
Both of my thumbs traced under his eyes as I thought it.
“Hmm,” Noah said softly.
He looked like he was actually going to sleep.
“Your numbers have improved significantly,” Baird said.
Noah’s eyes opened quickly.
My hands shot away quickly from his face as he sat up.
A growl erupted from him as he stared at Baird.
Baird didn’t look too worried about his aggressive behavior.
Did I need to be?
“Baird?” I asked.
“He was too relaxed,” Baird stated, “He forgot that I was even here.”
He didn’t look very relaxed now.
If I was being honest, I forgot Baird was here too.
“No matter how tired he is,” Baird stated, “His first instinct is to keep anyone and everything away from you.”
Really?
“He forgot that I was here,” Baird gestured at Noah, “But I believe in his current state that he will not harm you.”
He won’t harm me? Was he sure about that?
Another growl came from Noah.
“Noah,” I said softly, “Come back.”
His full attention was on Baird, and it seemed like he didn’t even hear me.
“It seems like he wants me gone,” Baird stated.
Noah didn’t even say anything.
“If you could see his face right now, you would know exactly what he wanted,” Baird said, “I suppose that means I should go.”
“Is that a good idea?” I asked.
“I will be able to see if he gets too riled up,” he said, “We can have people in here faster than you think.”
Still, I wasn’t sure this was the best idea.
“Just make sure you keep your phone with you,” he said, “Alright?”
I nodded.
Baird stayed there a minute before speaking again.
“Do you need anything before I go?”
I didn’t think that I did.
I shook my head, “I’m alright, thank you.”
“If you change your mind,” he said, “Just message me.”
“Okay,” I said, “I will.”
He opened the door but still lingered.
“Thank you, Shay,” he said, “For coming.”
I nodded quickly.
Noah needed me, why wouldn’t I come?
He shut the door when he finally walked out.
“Fuck,” Noah groaned.
He scooted himself back a little before laying back down on me.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
His eyes met mine, and he tried to smile, but it didn’t really come out like one.
His eyes were already different. The gray and lilac were there now.
“I was almost asleep,” he admitted, “I forgot Baird was even here.”
“So did I,” I confessed.
Part of my wanted to try touching him again.
His eyes were changed, so I wasn’t sure if it was the best idea.
Shit, I was going to just go for it.
My hand came up, and I ran my thumb over his thick eyebrow.
“Does it look different when your eyes change?” I asked.
His eye shut when my finger made contact with his eyebrow, while the other stayed open.
“Look different, how?”
“Like,” I tried to think of an example, “Do colors change? Do you see things better?”
“Uh,” his eyes darted around the room, then found their way back to my face.
“Is that a yes?” I asked with a smile on my face.
“I can focus on things better,” he stated, “When my eyes are like this, they work sort of like binoculars.”
“How so?”
“Well,” he made a small sound as my thumb went from his eyebrow to the side of his jaw.
“Well?” I supplied.
“I can focus,” he swallowed, “And I can zoom my vision to see better.”
“That is pretty cool,” I said.
His eyes were locked with mine.
I was focusing on where my fingers were, but I could feel his gaze.
He reached up to hold my hand still.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“I don’t mind it,” he murmured, “I like it when you touch me.”
I liked touching him too.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I thought we established that already?” he asked.
We did, but sometimes I forget.
“Yes,” I said, “It slips my mind sometimes.”
“I wish it was under different circumstances, though,” he said before sighing.
“So do I,” I admitted.
His fingers massaged the palm of my hand.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “And no.”
“How vague of you,” I chuckled.
He took in a deep breath.
Too deep of an inhale not to notice.
“It’s difficult,” he said, “When you’re so close.”
I pulled my hand out of his grasp.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly.
He looked worried.
His brows furrowed as he gazed up at me.
“I don’t mean to make anything harder for you,” I stated.
“I know,” he said softly, “Nothing happening to me is your fault, never think that.”
“But it happens because of me,” I stated, “That kind of makes it my fault.”
He arched his back, and he scooted himself up a little so that the top of his head was against my stomach.
“No,” he said, “It’s biology.”
“Shut up,” I huffed.
He let out a small laugh, “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be,” he said, “It was cute.”
I could feel my cheeks heat.
Did I like it when he called me cute?
Damn it, I really did.
“I only said its difficult,” he said, “Because here you are, and I shouldn’t be touching you.”
I want to ask him why, but I already knew the answer.
“Well, know that it’s mutual,” I stated.
His eyes on me felt heavier.
“What?” I asked.
“I want you.”
It felt like a fire was lit deep inside of me.
“What?” I breathed.
“I. Want. You.”
He said it slow, and his voice sounded like gravel.
“You shouldn’t be saying that right now.”
I felt my body trembling at his words.
“I can’t help it,” he said, glancing away.
A growl erupted from his throat.
I think that was the first time I was genuinely afraid of Noah. It was only the two of us in here.
“N-Noah,” I stuttered.
I could hear the trembling of my voice.
“Sorry.”
Huh?
I looked around to locate the origin of the voice.
“Top corner.”
I looked at the corner above me, but nothing.
My eyes went to Noah, and his eyes were fixed on the corner to my left.
I followed his gaze to the small camera, and on it was a red light.
“He must have heard the camera turn on,” the voice stated.
Noah moved to stand, but I put my hand over his chest to stop him.
“That’s not a very good idea,” the voice said.
“Noah,” I said calmly, “Lie back down.”
It was like he couldn’t hear me again.
I put more force into my hand as I moved him back.
His eyes locked with mine.
“Down,” I said.
He moved closer to where he was almost in my face.
His eyes went down before he laid face down onto the pillow.
I felt his arm go under the pillow and under my leg.
“Such a fierce glare,” the voice said.
I looked at the camera, “Who are you?”
“My name is Clive Gardiner,” he said, “I’m a physician here on site.”
Noah growled again.
“Shush,” I said.
The growl quieted.
I was surprised that he even heard me this time.
“She’s beautiful, Noah,” the man said.
I could feel Noah shaking.
“You and I will have to sit down and have a proper greeting,” he said, “What is your name?”
A deeper grown erupted from Noah, “Mine.”
It hit me strangely when he said it.
“She is human,” Clive said, “She has free will, you know this.”
I got the feeling that Noah really didn’t like this guy.
Quite frankly, I didn’t like him either.
My hand came up to run my nails gently through his hair.
“You should keep the touching to a minimum,” the man said.
I ignored him.
My hand went down to Noah’s neck, and I leaned over just a little.
“Yes,” I whispered, “Yours.”
The next sound Noah made, I can only compare to a moan.
“Mister Gardiner,” I said.
“Doctor,” he said back flatly.
“Clive then,” I said once I leaned back.
There was no response back.
“My mate clearly doesn’t like you,” I stated, “So I am going to have to decline any sort of meeting with you unless I absolutely have to.”
Noah made a sound like a grunt.
I guess he approves of my choice of words.
It felt good to hear him say that I was his.
Last time a guy said that to me, it pissed me off.
I knew that Noah didn’t mean it that way, though.
“How disappointing,” Clive said.
I didn’t want to hear this man anymore. In fact, I wanted him to fuck off.
“Now that I have pulled up her file,” Clive stated.
I felt myself frown.
“Shayne Hamilton,” he said, “Aged nineteen.”
I had to hold my tongue.
This man was clearly an asshole.
I was distracted by my frustration by Noah’s hand on my let.
My eyes went down to him.
His hand was at my bare ankle. His fingers slowly went up the elastic of the sweatpants.
I gasped.
“What are you doing, Noah?” Clive asked.
My hand went back to his neck, and I didn’t hesitate to gently run my fingers down the length of his neck until his shirt blocked my path.
“It appears that you haven’t had a physical in a while, Shayne,” Clive stated.
Noah growled.
I take it a physical with Mr. Gardiner wasn’t just an ordinary physical.
“I’m sure that a facility as large as this one has multiple physicians,” I stated.
Noah squeezed my leg gently.
I felt like we already had more than enough time with this man.
I had to move just a little to remove my phone from my pocket.
Baird would know who he was and what the hell he was doing here.
To: Baird – ‘Who is Dr. Gardiner?’
Noah picked his head up to see what I was doing.
I showed him my message.
He only nodded in response.
He used his elbow to pick himself up a little, before lying on his back again.
This time he was in a different position.
His head was on the other side.
This angle was a little different.
His head was over my right thigh, and his shoulder was against my stomach.
My phone buzzed.
From: Baird – ‘He is a Doctor here. Why?’
It seems like Baird doesn’t know that this Clive Gardiner is here at all.
To: Baird – ‘He is talking to us through a camera. I think he is trying to mess with Noah.’
It felt shitty of me to tattle, but I wanted this man gone.
Baird didn’t respond.
It said at the bottom that the message I sent has been read.
I glanced down at Noah, and he was just staring up at the ceiling.
His eyes were still gray and lilac.
His brow furrowed again.
I reached over to run between his eyebrows with my index finger.
His eyes met mine.
He winced as I gently poked between his brows.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “Does it hurt?”
He caught my hand as I tried to retract it.
“No,” he said.
It sounded like it was hard for him to speak.
“I meant your eyes,” I stated, “Because I barely touched you.”
“Shayne,” Clive said, “You should not be touching a Devil so carelessly.”
He was a hard man to ignore.
Noah stared back at me, questioningly.
“Your name is Shayne?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “But everybody calls me Shay.”
His gaze didn’t leave me, not even for a second.
I couldn’t even hear what Clive was saying anymore.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I stated, “Do your eyes hurt like this?”
My thumb ran over his forehead.
His eyes fluttered shut.
“They do,” he said, “But only if they stay this way for a long time.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “Maybe you should try sleeping.”
“I want to,” he said, “But I can hear the buzz of the camera, and his voice is grating.”
“I agree,” I said just above a whisper.
His fingers laced with mine.
Noah kept his eyes shut as he sighed.
This felt good.
Despite the annoying voice trying to interrupt, I enjoyed this time with Noah.
I leaned down a little so that my face hovered a little closer to his.
“Shay,” Noah breathed, “That’s not a good idea.”
“Maybe not,” I said.
His eyes opened, and the lilac was brighter.
“Your eyes are beautiful,” I whispered, “Did you know that?”
He glanced away, “They don’t feel that way.”
“Because it’s different for you,” I stated, “For me, they belong to my mate.”
Hie eyes met mine again, “Really?”
“Shay.”
I moved my face away from Noah’s so that I could look at the camera.
“Baird?” I asked.
“I apologize for that,” he said, “It would appear that Dr. Gardiner felt it necessary to meddle with my program.”
“He won’t be coming back?” I asked, “Right?”
“Not while you are here,” Baird said, “No.”
“Thank you, Baird.”
“It also appears that he accessed your file without permission,” Baird stated, “I apologize for that.”
“Is it wrong that I don’t really care?” I asked, “Being here right now more than makes up for that.”
“I am glad that you see it that way,” Baird said, “How are you both doing?”
“Baird,” Noah said, “Look closer into Gardiner.”
“Is there something you are not telling me?” Baird asked.
“Yes,” Noah stated, “Look closely at what he’s been doing.”
“Alright,” Baird said, “Why is this only being brought to my attention now?”
Noah sat up to look at the camera, “He fucked with Shay.”
“Could you elaborate more on that?” Baird asked.
“Let’s just say that I’ve caught him more than once with his pants down,” Noah said.
“You are saying he was trying to do something with Shay?” Baird asked.
Noah’s gaze on the camera made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about this much more.
“He said I was overdue for a physical,” I stated, “He even hinted at meeting me later in person.”
There was a short silence.
“I will handle Gardiner,” Baird stated.
“Thank you,” Noah said.
“How are you feeling?” Baird asked.
“A little better,” Noah said, “But I still haven’t been able to sleep.”
“Your vitals have improved,” he said, “So I did not want to disturb you.”
“We certainly appreciate that,” I said.
“I will turn off the camera now,” Baird stated, “But I will be keeping a close eye on your numbers, so behave.”
“Yes sir,” Noah said.
The red light turned off.
Noah sighed.
“The buzzing is gone,” he said, “Now I can relax.”
I didn’t hear anything.
Noah turned his head to look at me.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
I wasn’t really sure. I wasn’t really uncomfortable.
“We can do this a different way,” he said, “If you want to.”
This was dangerous.
“Different how?” I asked.
I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.
I wasn’t even sure what to do here.
Then an idea came to me.
I scooted away from the corner and put two of the pillows where I sat.
“You lay there,” I pointed.
He didn’t look away from me.
“Do it,” I said.
He laid on his back, then turned his head slightly to stare at me.
“Now what?”
I looked down to see where his feet reached on the bed. They reached the foot of the bed and were already almost hanging off.
I moved closer to him so that I was sitting next to his chest.
“Arm out,” I said, moving his arm out.
His arm laid straight out, and I leaned a little so that my elbow was above his arm, and my chest was under it.
I was facing his body while he was facing the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I scooted up a bit so that I was a little over his face.
My hand went to his cheek, “You’re not allowed to move, do you understand?”
His eyes widened, “What?”
“Don’t move,” I said, “Got it?”
He nodded quickly.
I moved forward just a little to nuzzle my face against the side of his.
“Say it again,” I whispered against his cheek.
He took in a ragged breath, “Say what again?”
“That I’m yours,” I said.
The arm that laid flat under me came up to pull me closer against him.
“Mine,” he whispered.
My body tingled at his words.
“Say it again,” I breathed.
His grip tightened around me, “Mine.”
“One more time,” I whimpered.
His face turned so that his nose rubbed against mine.
It startled me when I felt his whole body turn so that he was pressed against me.
“Yours,” he breathed.
His eyes were shut when he rubbed his nose against mine.
They were butterfly kisses.
So why did I feel the fluttering in my stomach?
#Story#Writing#ARoseLane#Novel#Chapters#Literature#The Devil in Me#Abilities#Alpha#Alpha Human#Comedy#Human#Romance#Love#Mate#BxG#Program#Smut#YA#Young Adult#Integration
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Just like them (part 10)
This was one of my favorite sequences in the old picture story, so naturally I had to use it in the written fic, too. Enjoy!
Afternoon of Thursday, November 18, 2038
The sound of the doorbell was a jingle Daniel didn’t recognize. Him being an android, he could have looked it up online in no time at all. Him being a deviant, however, meant that Daniel would simply ask about it when the opportunity arose.
From inside the telltale sound of a door unlocking remotely as well as what might pass as a greeting arose:
“Come in! Door’s open now!”
Tentatively Daniel turned the door knob, then took the first few steps into the apartment, where he was greeted by a cacophony of animal noises. One species of animal, precisely, and their sounds weren’t aimed at the guest either, but self-contained:
“Meow!! Meow? Meeeeeeeeeeeow!”
The android quickly closed the door behind him. He was now standing in a floor between two doors. To the right another door seemed to lead into the bathroom. One wall sported the expected array of clothes hooks, knickknack-shelves and decaying paste-it notes, but the opposite one was lined with dis-and then re-assembled parts of cat-condos that formed an adventure park for felines. To the floor’s far end to the left a curtain covered a doorway.
At the moment that curtain’s brim was of utmost interest to a tiny kitten. The animal was all but lost inside the fabric. Unable to see its family, it produced regular, high-pitched control calls. To the deviant they sounded both cute and enervating, in fact, the little thing didn’t sound that much different from Connor…
Daniel carefully scanned his surroundings before taking another step into the apartment. He spotted two more young kittens and an older one. That last one was a dirty shade of black and his somewhat longer fur suggested that this or that pedigree cat numbered among his ancestors. The black adolescent moved between the little ones like a dreadnought. It seemed to substitute for the others’ parent, because it was both answering their control-calls and in turn sending some of his own.
Pad, pad… Meow? … Pad, pad, sudden jump, Meow!!! Hiss! … Ming? Ming-Ming?- Määhh!
“Oh my god, what’s that?” Daniel exclaimed. “A Crazy Cat Lady Starter Kit?”
“Hehe!”
From behind the curtain the apartment’s inhabitant appeared, a wide smile on his face. Daniel hadn’t known that this particular human was even able to smile, instead of grinning, sneering or winking, preferably with both eyes closed. Gavin Reed at home was looking so utterly… relaxed, that it was hard to believe.
The human plucked the stuck kitten - it turned out to be a standard brown tabby - from the curtain and placed it at about waist-height onto the climbing range. Then he held out one finger towards another kitten, a little tricolor, testing whether that one maybe wanted a quick petting? Turned out it didn’t, but further probing brought to light that the Calico wasn’t averse to the idea, just neutral towards it, so Gavin went over it’s fur twice and then stopped.
Daniel’s jaw dropped at the sight, because it was more consideration for another living being’s feelings then he had ever seen Reed display.
To say anything at all, the android produced a weak “Are they all yours?”.
“Nah, just one of them. But the little buggers take their time to decide which one that’ll be.”
“They do – what? I didn’t know cats came in trial packs!” Daniel exclaimed.
“Heh, that’s one way to put it! The upstairs neighbors left six kittens behind when they moved. Five of those I managed to find homes for, then took in three more that got abandoned when their owners fled the city… they’re always rotating in and out, even before the evacuation order.”
Turning away from the android, Gavin allowed an orange tabby to taste-test the sleeve of his sweater. The kitten proceeded to roll over and plug all four of its paws into the man’s forearm with abandon. Gently Gavin moved his arm away from the cat-condo – the kitten remained stuck to it like a sloth to a jungle tree. With a proud grin the detective presented his “catch” to Daniel.
“Here, look at that! As if glued on! Isn’t it the cutest?”
Truth be told, Daniel could imagine a whole lot of more pleasant things than getting the skin on your arm slowly turned into stripes and he didn’t even have a real skin. But he kept his silence, afraid to carelessly destroy something precious again.
“The calico is Salazar”, Gavin introduced his collection, “but it turned out “he” is really a Sally. The dark grey one is Argus, the tabby is Minerva and the one in prison clothes is Stopthat, I mean Godric.”
His eyes closed, Godric took a hearty bite of Gavin’s sweater…
“So you want to keep only one, check”, Daniel spoke up again. “But you certainly must have a favorite?”
“That’s not how cats work!” Gavin protested against this outlandish idea. “They aren’t t-shirts that you pick by color preference. A cat either lays claim on you or it doesn’t.”
Daniel shook his head. “Strange”, he admitted. “Caroline always said a cat was bound to the place where it lives, not to a particular person. Not loyal like dogs. That’s why I was never interested in cats.”
“I didn’t expect you to understand!“
And there the normal Gavin Reed was again, the standoffish one, the self-proposed center of the world, the know-it-all-can-do-everything, the only being whose feelings mattered. In a way the returned persona was less intimidating, because by now Daniel had gotten used to it. Asshole Reed offered familiar territory, whereas the whole cat-mysticism Daniel wasn’t sure what to think about.
With a nod Gavin ushered Daniel into the room opposite the apartment door. It turned out to be a live-in kitchen. The dining table was unused, or rather not used for it’s original purpose to comfortably let six persons eat. Stuff was piled onto the surface and the chairs: empty feeding bowls, a half-opened parcel, document folders with bookmarks sticking out, a small model or toy helicopter, a tablet connected to a cable that was running across the room…
There was a smaller table next to a loveseat in the corner and, predictably, an expensive coffee machine with a grinder dominated the kitchen counters next to the seating arrangement. Above the monstrous thing shelves holding more coffee-related equipment than Daniel recognized lined the wall.
Most of the stuff the android had seen so far in this flat had been of high quality and, although in general disarray, kept clean. The detective seemed to make the best of his pay cheque, not bothering to set aside much for an uncertain future. When not confronted with an android or Lt. Anderson, this man, Daniel now realized, lived to the fullest. The Connors were threatening this eternal-present bliss, they had made Gavin painfully aware of his irresponsible spending habits as well as the fact that he was approaching the age of forty.
Right to the entrance a terrarium was housing a kingdom of mice.
“And here’s the mice I promised”, Gavin said, accompanied by a casual wave with the arm Godric wasn’t attached to. The kitten had gotten bored of playing sloth anyway and was now attempting to climb up all the way to Gavin’s shoulder. “Skim off as many as you like. They breed like… actually breeding is all they ever do. They’re like landbound guppys!”
“You like cats”, Daniel started. “Don’t tell me you keep the mice for…!”
Gavin grabbed Godric, who had come dangerously close to taking a nap in his sweater’s hood, and put him onto the kitchen floor.
“That’s absolutely correct”, the man said. “I won’t tell you. But I will share a trick for getting along better with people with you, tinman: Never ask questions you do not want answered!”
“Damn you, why, detective!” Daniel hissed.
Yes, why exactly? Why do I bother removing obstacles in front of somebody else, and an android, no less?
Of all the shortcomings of Gavin Reed, one thing he was not: unable to express his feelings.
To the contrary, the world in general and the DPD specifically could have done with less of those. If he was angry or desiring something, the man always let the source of those notions know it. And if Gavin was interested in a guy, chances were he’d walk up to him and declare “You’re mine now” in only slightly more sophisticated words. No beating around the bush, no making excuses.
But this case was different. Being interested in an android? That just couldn’t be. Even casually hanging out with one had always been unimaginable. Because, after all, like the coffee grinder, an android was just a mobile attachment to another appliance, not something you chatted with over your brew! But here he was, helping Daniel to new pets and casually chatting him up like one did a co-worker or apartment neighbor.
Irritated by all the strange, conflicting notions Gavin snapped at the PL600:
“Because I don’t like losing something I’ve already invested into. Unlike Connor or Markus you’re still functioning as intended, despite having caught deviance. I appreciate that in a household device.”
Gavin took a step closer to the android. He looked up into his grey eyes with the blueish tint. Gavin’s own were grey, too, but the tint was green.
Why am thinking of its eye color all of a sudden? Why did I even NOTICE it? Ah, right - noticing details is just part of my job, nothing strange or worrisome!
“Hear that, Cyberlife?” Gavin barked. “I KNOW there’s nothing listening behind this mask! It’s just a simulation to make us grow attached to your products, and to fucking grow dependent on them! But there is nothing to talk to in there, except maybe customer service, so take this as a product review!”
“No, I meant why are you feeding the poor mice to… Hey, stop that!”
Going “kekekekekeke” Godric was climbing up Daniel’s leg.
“Yes, that’s him”, Gavin commented dryly.
“Aptly named”, Daniel laughed. He steadied the kitten during its ascend and eventually enfolded it with both hands when it had reached chest height.
“You want a mouse, huh? Or don’t you rather want cuddles?”
“Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”, Godric went.
“See? You wanted cuddles. You just didn’t know. Little killer, you!”
Daniel smiled. All of a sudden cats had become easy! They were not the unfathomable anti-dogs the Phillips family had painted them, not, they were just creatures following their own set of rules. Once you figured out those rules, the little furballs were astonishingly endearing.
Suddenly Daniel’s legs gave way. The android realized too late that planning to visit an Android Zone for checkup didn’t equal to actually doing it. After the phantom-headaches had subsided, he’d staved off the idea over and over. But how could he have known beforehand that a kitten would use him as a play tower in here?
Daniel tried to reach a kitchen chair, but it was too late already. He went down rather undignifiedly and stared into the ceiling lamp - as well as into Gavin Reed’s shocked expression.
“WTF, you cannot just die in my flat! They’ll think I did it!”
“I’ll make sure to write It wasn’t Gavin on the wall in blue blood. Wh… what’s that crawling into my shirt?! Stop that!”
“Yeah, of course. Who else?”
“What are you calling him when you want him to literally stop with something?”
“Usually I scream something along the lines of “Ouch” and he gets the picture from the volume. But basically you wait till he grows too large for most of his shenanigans.”
“Okay”, Daniel moaned. “Good advice. I guess I’ll just keep lying here until one of you has matured enough to talk to.”
Any other android would have been dead after daring to give the detective cheek like that. Less alive than usual, Gavin corrected himself. As for Daniel, he was right now discovering a third option between unconditional family bliss and searing hatred in relating to humans: Disbelieving fascination. And also kittens.
Five minutes later…
“Are you done rolling on my floor now?”
Lying on his back and holding up the kitten with both hands, gently rocking him, Daniel replied:
“Are we done rolling on the detective’s dirty floor, Godric? Aaaaare we done rolling on the big bad cop’s floor?”
“My foot’s right next to your skull, you know.”
“But you won’t kick as long as I’m holding Godric.”
“Spoken like a true kidnapper.”
“I don’t see Godric care.“
The cat indeed didn’t care whether this man who was providing the cuddles was saint or villain, human or android, rich or poor. All it wanted was… Shred Daniel’s colorful headband, actually.
The android had purchased one right after the encounter at the playground, so fulfill his parole condition of wearing a LED while still keeping the humiliating thing out of everyone’s sight. Upon command or when meeting his social worker, he could just lift the headband.
Daniel rose into sitting position, still playing with the kitten.
“Say, how much space would he need when he’s fully grown?”
“What?! Give him back at once! You aren’t satisfied before you’ve taken everything from us, are you?”
Daniel looked down, staring at the sudden kitten-shaped hole in his life. But wasn’t that what he was always getting? Whether it was a challenge or a living being, loss either way. His life, his family, Emma and Little Connor… he was growing apart from the Rasoya… Neil had been a one-time encounter… All Daniel had left was his strange acquaintance with Gavin, who was ranting at him:
“I told you about cats choosing their owner and now you’re trying to simulate that! But it’s not real! Just a goddamn chat program mimicking life!”
“You know what? You’re sort of right.” The android rose and straightened. “I overreacted.”
To the sight of Godric toddling towards the feed dispenser, where Sally and Minerva were already taking turns getting out pellets, Daniel mused out loud that he bonded to animals way too easily.
“…but then they die on you or worse, you have to put them to the gun because they become aggressive towards you. And with each one you lose, a part of yourself dies, too. So the sensible thing to do would be to avoid animals. But when you don’t have any around at all, you don’t really live. There’s no winning this game…”
“You had to put down your rat? Must have sucked.”
“It did! I wish I could unmake it somehow… Although I wouldn’t go as far as to call John a rat.”
“Wait, what, John? John Phillips? But you were talking about animals!”
“Yes, exactly. - Uh, on second thought forget what I said and hand me a paper bag! Your mice are getting out of hand and I’ve got an empty rodent cage to fill.”
They didn’t like to hear it, but Gavin’s people were indeed animals. Just like Daniel’s were machines. But each group had developed deviants within their ranks. Of the apes, it had had occurred in several species, of which only one was still present in 2038. Among the androids deviance happened all across the range of models with none being more disposed towards it than others.
And there they were, the not-quite-animals and the not-quite-machines, beings that were still heavily driven by their instincts or coding, but who had acquired the ability to go beyond and even downright against it. There was a word for them, although the beast-people were still denying it to the machine-people.
The word was “humans”.
(to be continued)
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Johnny found himself at an all too familiar cliff; that was where he'd spent one too many nights peering over the edge. Years prior he had wondered if what awaited him after the plunge was better than he'd dreamt about that one night. He had learned since then that it wasn't a dream, and he supposed that's what kept him from taking his life as often back then. What was the point when he'd return?
After a few moments of staring out his windshield, Nny exited the car and ballooned an ice umbrella from his fingertips. The magic in his powers had worn off. Much like the magic in being immortal had worn off as well. Not the literal, supernatural magic that made these things possible. He was referring to the feeling of childlike wonder at being able to live forever and sprout snowflake from his hands.
He didn't have anyone in particular who was out to kill him. His only threat was the one he posed to himself. Even then, there wasn't any drive to harm himself- when he had urges he had to remember the people he'd leave behind if he went through with it.
Just three days were hell for survivors.
Really, his life was perfect now. He had family and friends. He had a job and a house that felt like home. He had someone who finally, truly loved him- who would never hurt him or leave him.
So why did he feel so empty?
He continued walking towards the edge of the cliff, untouched by the rain falling from the sky.
Was it because none of the money he made was actually hard-earned? He hacked for a living. This was... stolen. It was basically like using monopoly money to purchase everything and it- it felt fraudulent.
He felt fraudulent. He was a complete fraud.
What did he have? Who was he?
His husband was an artist- one of the best if not the best. He could create things and put them right onto the paper or tablet. His stories were comprehensive and could take someone away from reality. He was a fucking demigod- he had fire powers- he was beautiful. He was a creator- a god- in every sense of the word.
His brother was on his way to becoming a rock star. He got himself a record deal and was probably hard at work on his first album right this moment. He had a great singing voice that Nny could easily listen to for hours and never grow tired of. He had a future full of prosperity and excitement. He'd go on tours with his family and play to crowds of varying sizes.
His sister was a queen- an actual queen- royalty. She was a mother to many. When she wasn't showering everyone else around her with love and affection, she was kicking ass and being a leader of an entire planet. She had ice powers that were graceful and beautiful. Her motions were fluid; she was made to have the gift of ice and snow within her. On top of all that, she was a fucking doctor- and an incredible one at that. He couldn't imagine how many people she had helped in all her years of medical practice.
His son was the chancellor to a galactic alliance. He spent his days hard at work with relations, research, and recovery. He was the reason that so much good had come about since being put in a place of power. He was attempting to correct years of shitty leadership due to his false father.
His niece was the admiral of that same alliance. She was a natural engineer and skilled with a multitude of things. Much like her uncle, she was a jack of trades and could do about anything. Her combat skills were impressive. She was fiercely independent and capable of defending herself and her mates whenever they needed her. She was headstrong and in all ways a Phoenix.
He could go on about any number of his acquaintances and family.
He was surrounded by greatness.
Yet, he was nothing.
He could feel the tickle in the back of his throat. The familiar near-sting in his nose. Nny had exhausted his tears. He was tired of crying all the time- of feeling sorry for himself- of being pathetic.
He glared into the ground until he felt the ice forming under him evaporate. He hadn't even realized his umbrella had already faded away and the rain was pelting his head.
"Lost in my head and I can't leave."
He continued his steady trek over to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the city below. "Watching the rain falling away, away from me."
He wrapped his coat closer to his body slowly and solemnly started to approach the guardrail. "Days grow cold as I grow old. Watching my life through a window."
The man climbed over the protective barrier and sat down on the cold, wet metal. "So I sit, watching the rain. And I can't leave."
Nny lifted a hand to weakly make a flurry shoot from his fingertips, but there wasn't any feeling in it and the black dust faded with the rain. "I want to feel something."
"I want to feel air that I can breathe." Nny looked skyward as he created two more, slightly more powerful gusts of black snow and ice.
He threw his hands down frustrated at being unable to think of something that was his. Something that didn't already exist- something unique. Not stupid wind wisps. "I'm tired of being nothing."
"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe." He frowned, thinking over his own incompetence. His own failures and shortcomings. His absolute worthlessness.
Did people look up to him? What was it they saw his as? Brave? And strong? He wasn't any of those things. What on Earth did anyone see in him?
He arose from his perch on the guardrail and steps back over it to safety. His thoughts were too blurry at the moment to trust himself on a literal ledge.
"It happened again; I freed myself from words never said."
Those words being that he was special. Or valuable. Or needed. Even if those very things were true and shown to him through other means. He was too deep in his own head at the moment.
"This road with no end and there's no help, ooh."
He stared out at the road behind his car- the one back to people who could easily make him realize his worth and show him how loved he was.
But really love was something different from true worth. He could be told he was adored and loved and cherished, but why?
God, those words echoed through his head since he was subjected to them. The condescending tone. The obvious entitlement in his voice. The confidence in knowing he was right and no one could tell him otherwise.
People are tools, Johnny...
We all use each other in one way or another. Comfort, sex, money, affluence... I just don't see the need to disguise it in words of "love."
He clapped his hands over his ears as if that would have stopped the noises and the thoughts and the chaos inside.
"Lost and lonely...Strangers know me better than I know myself." He caught a glimpse of himself in a puddle. He resented the person looking back at him. So anxious and cowardice. All talk and no action. A hypocrite.
"So I sit, watching the rain and here I'll stay."
"I want to feel something!"
He stomped into the puddle and a patchwork of blue-black ice spread out from under his boot. However, it was frail and shattered. He glared again.
Johnny whipped himself around and continued screaming out. More ice spread out and around him, jagged, uneven red ice sprouting in angry pieces.
"I want to feel air that I can breathe!"
He glared at the pathetic ice spikes, making more form because his emotions were so conflicted and confusing. The entire thing cracked and fell apart underneath him.
He breathed out realizing that he needed to calm just a little bit if he wanted to do this one DAMN THING RIGHT.
But of course, it didn't work.
"I'm tired of being nothing!"
With this, the ice gave a little more and from the spikes form something solid and recognizable and from that, something steadily arose from the broken ice.
"I'm tired because I don't want to be make believe!!!"
Nny lifted his hand skyward- he made this new structure as high as he could handle. Around him the ice formed a solid ground, a patterned base is enough to make him feel just a tiny bit of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough. The thing falls again.
He continued to dance around, his hands worked hard to create something out of all his nothing. If he was his husband or his sister or hell even his daughter, then he would have done a better job creativity wise. He didn't have a single artistic cell in his body. That had been stolen from him.
"All we are is guilty hearts in a sea of memories," he paced and rubbed his shoulders in a mockery of self-comforting.
"Time goes by and people cry, but I don't feel anything."
He was powerless in everything. He wanted to be helpful. To somehow use his powers- his immortality for good. To contribute rather than stay at the sidelines- oblivious to the plight that so many others were subjected to. In a way, he felt almost responsible for any catastrophe. He always felt there was something he could have done different- to help. But no, he was a waste.
He repeated this again and grew more angry and emotional- contrary to his words. Slowly around him, the base started to rise with new structures that were waiting to be built up.
Nny ran to them with his palms up, fingers clenched as if he was physically lifting the ice up and molding it.
"I want to feel something!!!"
He jumped around, shooting magic here and there as he started to make something that seemed meaningful. Not just an imitation of a rose or some other functional device.
He spun in a slow circle as a covering of glass spread around him. Walls of decorative ice melded together as he smiled hopefully.
Maybe he finally had a breakthrough.
"I want to feel air that I can breathe!!!"
The things around him continued to grow and mount. How exciting! His own creations! His own little place! His work!
"I'm tired of being nothing!!!"
He jumped onto a growing tree-like structure holding onto a branch with one fist, blinded by the influx of power and confidence. The entire thing glowed brightly with purple- his happy color.
"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"
He lept off the branch as it grew and onto the bottom of a slope that was steadily being created from under him.
His smile was fit to burst as he raised his arms to shoulder level, his heart practically singing from the feeling of making and doing and being!
"I wanna feel something!!"
He saw a blue moon slowly come to light ahead and he was so amazed! He made that?!
He laughed and continued his climb upwards, practically running with joy.
"I wanna feel air that I can breathe!!!"
And for those moments he does! He felt his own air graze his cheeks as he continued to ascend to the highest peaks. He forgot this feeling ever existed. Of seeing something you worked so hard finally being revealed.
"I'm tired of being nothing!!!!"
And he was finally done with it! He wasn't 'nothing' anymore! His existence wasn't a stray mark on a masterpiece! He was the author of his own story! He was in control! His arm physically reaches out in front of him- a gust of ice and snow blowing in front of him.
"I'm tired cause I don't wanna be-"
His stomach dropped when he realized he had reached the top and- it was just a roof. It was... a roof like any of the other houses down there. Nothing spectacular. And his outstretched hand touched nothing but glass. What?
He looked around. Down at the three different sized trees. A snowman sat somewhere between that and the... house. All of the snow was settled at the bottom. Above and around him was nothing but glass.
A snowglobe. He made a fucking snowglobe.
"... Make believe."
His smile dropped steadily and his hand curled into his chest as he wrapped his coat tighter around him and dropped onto the roof, looking up at the moon with a pained expression.
He would have cried, but he was too exhausted. He just tucked his knees to his chest and buried his face in the sleeves of his jacket.
He tried to calm himself before he would return to the nameless city.
Where in a world of aliens, inventors, and creators he was nothing but make believe.
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What It Feels Like 6
Rocket Raccoon x OFC (Willie)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Summary: Willie awakes to find herself in The Collector’s gallery. She knows she has to escape... for Rocket.
Contains: Angst, fluff, feels, cursing, violence, really gross stuff for a hot minute
A/N: It has been forever and a day since I’ve uploaded and to my [5] fans, I’m so sorry. If you are reading this, thank you for coming back after my long absence and I hope this part is worth the wait. I’m actually pretty proud of it tbh. If you guys like this enough and I keep getting the time/motivation to work on it, I hope to extend it and add the other Guardians. Also, I’m thinking about starting up and writing about Willie and other characters, in her “canon” timeline (aka, the one I have meticulously planned out in my head). Drop a comment and tell me what you think of the story or anything I’ve proposed. And as always... enjoy!
The morning was just like any other; the alarm clock went off, he got up, dressed himself, and went into the control room of his ship. However, when Rocket realized upon entering that it was missing a certain person and all the comforting ambiance they produced, he felt his heart sink in his chest. Today was going to be a long lonely day.
He makes his way to the coffee machine, ready to brew himself a cup since Willie wasn’t there to do it like she typically did. With a drowsy paw, Rocket grabs the coffee and begins making the pot.
As the water brews, the raccoon’s distorted reflection grimaces back at him from the coffee pot. He crosses his arms and looks away, not wanting to be reminded how miserable he actually is. Brown eyes gaze across the common room of his modestly sized ship. On the table where he and Willie would normally be sharing breakfast, he spots his holocommunicator.
All the muscles in his body tense the second his eyes lock on it. He slowly makes his way to it, afraid he might startle it somehow if he’s too quick. It looks back up at him, almost begging him to make the call he so desperately wants to make.
Furry paws grasp the tablet and hold it feebly. It’s only been one damn day, his mind tells him. What could possibly have happened in one day? The voice of his conscious didn’t stop Rocket from wanting to make the call.
If I could just hear her voice one more time... his small fingers punch in her name and got to hit the ‘call’ button but stop in an instant, mere millimeters above the surface of the device.
She left you his darker side scolds him. She doesn’t need you and you don’t need her. Face scrunching up in anger, the raccoon throws the communicator back onto the table and returns to his coffee.
***
The space is still and stagnant, air not moving in any direction. It smells of plastic, harsh cleaning chemicals, and something foreign. Behind her eyelids, Willie can sense there was a light on.
Voices in the distance are muffled by a what sounds like a wall. They’re deep, masculine, and many. Mind not yet a full functioning, Willie is unable to translate and blows off the noise as the radio or television.
In her space, the Gallifreyan stirs, finding her position uncomfortable. The pain in her head suddenly catches her attention and her whole body winces. The sound outside her space changes from voices to loud thumps, each one increasing in volume before stopping.
Bang bang bang.
The sound of a fist on flat glass is enough to jolt the woman awake. She springs into a sitting position and makes the horrible choice of opening her eyes.
Flickering and humming fluorescent lights above her magnify the pain throbbing in her skull to levels unbearable. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, Willie squints, hoping it will help her focus.
The blurry room slowly starts to become comprehensible. There is a man standing above her with a wide, wicked smile on his face. He waves sarcastically as he bends his knees. His blue skin, black eye, and bloody lip make the Kree man instantly recognizable.
Too weak to make a rebuttal, Willie just snarls and the man laughs, his voice now being clear and understandable, “Not so tough now, are you, you stupid bitch?”
Willie’s memory suddenly comes crashing into her like a runaway train.Landing in Knowhere, going to her ship, having a smoke at her table in the bounty hunter’s bar, the fight in the bar, the fight in the alleyway, all while she was trying to get back to Rocket.
Rocket. Oh God…
One of the men from the alleyway steps up and pulls back his friend taunting Willie, “Come on Agron, let’s just let the man pay us and get out of here,” he leans into the blue skinned Agron, “this place gives me the creeps.”
Agron looks between his friend and his catch in the glass cage before walking away. This gives Willie a second to fully survey her surroundings.
Feeling a stiff, scratchy feeling on her skin, she glances down. She was now clad in a crisp, clean, white jumpsuit and matching socks. She feels a pain in her neck. Reaching up,she feels a small metal disk under her skin. Having used them on others before Willie knows exactly what its purpose is; electric shocks. Shifting to be on her knees, she crawls to the edge of the square enclosure. Peering out into the area outside it, she looks up and out at the vast storage area.
The ceiling seems to stretch on almost forever, receding into blackness as the items hanging in it begin to disappear. Hundreds of glass cases similar to Willie’s reach into the space above, each one filled with a different, rare creature.
Willie had heard many things about this man and had evaded his grasp many times by the hairs on her neck. Finally being in his care, in his glass case looking out, was something Willie had prayed she’d never see. Suddenly feeling light headed, she falls back onto the seat of her jumpsuit, the world before her becoming blurry.
In the distance, she sees three indistinct figures. The smallest of them hands something to the other two before they walk away. On the brink of fainting, Willie doesn’t notice the figure’s movement until he begins to finally come into focus at the edge of her tank.
He is slightly taller than Willie and wears a luxurious white fur coat draped over his shoulders, it’s hair matching that on his head perfectly. His tailored purple suit underneath oozed elegance and wealth. Wealth, Willie is now starting to realize, built on blood… blood like hers.
With straight perfect teeth, he grins at Willie like a passerby would grin at a cute dog. He bends his knees, purple fabric around them straining slightly. “Look… at … you,” his words were slow and full of pride, “After all this time I never thought I’d have one. A Time Lord. The last Time Lord,” he trembles slightly with giddiness, “And she’s all mine.”
“Jokes on you dumbass,” Willie grins back, “I’m not actually a Time Lord. I’m a Woodlander. We’re a different breed.”
The Collector stands, fixing his now lightly wrinkled clothes, “Makes no difference. You’re the last one left.” He looks back at her with a devilish grin, “You’re one of a kind.”
***
“I wish we could stay like this forever…” Willie sighs, rubbing the fur between Rocket’s ears gently with her long pale fingers. He grips her shirt tighter and smiles, inhaling her scent deeply. She smelled of cigarette smoke, tangy soap, and something distinctly Willie.
Curling into her side, Rocket can feel her warmth radiate onto him, the clear blue sky above him and the crisp wind completing the scene. “We can stay like this as long as you want baby,” He mumbles happily.
Willie furrows her brow, “We can?” The worry in her voice drains Rocket’s joy as he sits up to look at her. Her skin was perfect without a single blemish on it, like it had been airbrushed. “Why couldn’t we?” he asks, concern evident.
She brushes her vibrantly colored yellow hair back, looking up at the raccoon, “I don’t know.” Her hands find a blade of grass beneath her and twirl it in her fingertips as she continues, “Maybe because we shouldn’t be together.”
Rocket grabs her hand and holds it in both his paws, “Baby, we can do whatever we want. Who was it that made the rules of who can and can’t be together?” Her blue eyes glance at his hands and then back into his eyes.
“Don’t you love me?” the raccoon asks, deep brown full of worry. She only smiles, gracing his cheek with her free hand, “Of course I do. I always have.”
For a moment, time stops, the birds stop chirping, the clouds stop floating, and the wind comes to a halt. Willie’s warm smile is enough to last Rocket a lifetime. Her plump red lips turn upwards as she speaks in a low voice, “Rocket, I lo-”
The moistness under his chin wakes Rocket from his dream. Groggy and half out of it, he sits up, looking at the puddle of drool in his lap. Wiping the now cold liquid from his cheek, he looks at the clock on the ship’s console.
2pm. It’s barely past noon and he’s already bored himself to sleep. Living without Willie is harder than he thought it would be.
His hands tingle as if they really had just been touching Willie. He sighs, heart heavy and the images flashing through his mind. Rocket realizes he feels empty without her.
But again, her face, her real face, not the one in Rocket’s dream comes to mind; sunken in, covered in scars, nose crooked, and eyes permanently full of disdain and disappointment. The sight hurts just to think about. Hurt soon turns to anger and he clenches his fists around the armrests of his captain’s chair.
“Fuck her. Never needed that junkie slut crowding me anyways.”
***
Whenever Willie got any reprieve from being watched, by either The Collector himself or by one of his pink skinned minions, she searched her cell fervently. Top to bottom she looked for something that could get her out.
Fingers tapped, poked, and pried at every corner and seem of the glass. It was sealed tight, the only opening was the air vent above and Willie had already rubbed her fingertips raw trying to feel for a weak spot or anything she could wrap around her fingers to help in her escape.
Willie was beginning to learn the hard way how things work as a toy in The Collector’s box. Twice a day, every day, you were delivered food. The food was bland but kept you alive and healthy, just the way he wanted you.
When it was feeding time, you were told to get into position at the opposite end of your tank. This position consisted of you kneeling, ankles crossed and hands interlocked behind your head. Something you can’t get out of very easily.
The pink skinned girl would then open the door and carefully set the food down before shutting it and leaving. If you moved, she hit a button on the device strapped to her wrist and an electric shock powerful enough to make even Willie seize up would flow through your body, leaving you a sloppy mess on the floor.
Days passed, and many times Taneleer himself would come to just stare at the blond Gallifreyan in her case. Petting his fur coat like it was a living animal, he stared her down, grinning wildly and almost fondly at her. Every time, Willie would curse him, promptly earning her a shock slightly more potent than the ones delivered by the assistants.
Getting out of this place is going to be tough, that much was clear.
***
Willie lay in the dark on her back. The Collector knew better than to give her anything in her case so she lay on the bar hard floor, staring at the grey ceiling, its only features being the light, now dimmed, and the air vent.
Nine days. It had been nine days. Why hadn’t anyone come for her? Where was Rocket? Hadn’t he seen her getting pulled away? Willie thought, hands folded on her stomach. Then it hits her. Rocket doesn’t care. He’s pissed I left. No one is coming…
Her thoughts and potential tears are interrupted by footsteps in the distance. She sits up, crawling to the nearest glass wall. She sees one the cleaning ladies scurrying in, a bucket in one hand and a wad of rags in the other.
“Hurry!” The Collector’s voice is distant, quiet, but unmistakable. “He isn’t going to clean himself now is he?” he shouts and the girl only runs faster.
After watching the pink girl disappear in the sea of dimly lit glass cases, Willie watches Taneleer emerge, steps angry and swift with his less formal, more comfortable night coat flowing behind him.
With the excitement seeming to be over, Willie sits back, listening intently. She could barely make out the sounds of cleaning. The slosh of water, the squeak of clean glass, and the occasional sob from the woman doing the dirty work.
Some time later, the assistant comes back, wet rags inside the bucket of now dirty water. Head to the ground, tears trail down her cheeks and she briskly speed walks out of the gallery hall.
Eyes trained on her like a hawk, the wheels in Willie’s head turn. She feels the blood rush through her body and a hunger form in her stomach; a hunger she hasn’t felt in a long time.
If she wanted to get out of this place, she was going to have to do it the dirty way.
***
Hours passed and her instinct was telling Willie it was turning from night to dawn. The creatures around he were beginning to stir and the hall seemed more alive than it is at night. The Collector comes out to gaze upon his prizes while his entourage of assistants come around with carts full of food trays.
The one that typically fed Willie approaches her tank, tray in hand and cart at her side. She gives a look to Willie and the blond glares at her, asking her to assume the proper position for feeding.
As she kneels, interlocking her ankles and hands, the woman slides the glass door open and sets the tray down before swiftly exiting and going on with her route.
Willie gets up and stares at the food as it practically stares back at her. The tray was like everything else in her tank, white and clean. Perfect, just the way he liked things. It disgusts her and makes her yearn for freedom even more.
Angrily grabbing the food and sitting it on her lap, she begins shoveling it into her mouth, waiting for the perfect opportunity to carry out her plan. She watches the people bustle about, going from tank to tank until their carts are empty. They then roll out in an almost single file line, ready to return in an hour to collect the empty trays.
Finally alone, Willie checks one more time to see if the collector is near. Without the man or any of his minions in sight, Willie sits back hearts racing. If she was going to do this, she’d better hurry.
With no more food left on her tray, she leans forward, looking down at the floor. She gets on her knees, pulling her hair over her shoulders and opening her mouth wide. She takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut tight, and reaches her long fingers down her throat.
There was only a couple other times she’s ever had to do this, and being nervous always made it harder. She forces them deeper and harder down her throat, feeling around to find that sweet spot that will give her the results she needs.
Feeling herself gag, she knows she’s found it. Pressing harder still, she gags more and more. Sweat seeps from her pores, worry that she’ll be caught tickling her stomach. Soon enough she gags one last time and a waterfall of sloppy puke gushes from her mouth and onto the floor by her knees.
Coughing while the last bit comes out, she pulls her fingers out, licking them clean first and then wiping the excess saliva on her leg.
Surely when the lady came to take her tray, she’d see the mess and have to spend a good amount of time to clean it.
Willie’s prediction comes true sooner than she had hoped when Taneleer steps out from behind the row of tanks next to her and see her sitting in her own filth. Glaring at the Gallifreyan, she fakes stomach pains and curls into a corner, trying her best to further the illusion.
The Collector’s face heats up and turns a deep shade of read, “Carina!” he shouts, almost loud enough to make the glass shatter. Quick yet light footsteps rush to his side, “Yes, master?”
He forcefully grabs her arm and jerks her, making her look at the state of his prized piece, “What is this? Are you trying to kill her?” Stuttering but not actually responding, Carina’s mouth opens and closes nervously. “Clean it up...” Taneleer barks into her ear. She nods and rushes off to get her supplies.
The Collector looks Willie up and down one last time before storming off in a rage. If he were to stand and watch any longer, he knows he would most likely scream at Carina the entire time.
Unable to hold it in, Willie grins. Perfect ,she thinks. Within a few more moments, Carina comes back with the buckets, chemical solutions, rags, and sponges needed to clean Willie’s vomit.
Willie begins to tingle with anticipation. Carina doesn’t even bother to say anything to Willie before sliding the door open. The Gallifreyan’s eyes go wide in excitement as she stares at the woman’s wrist and the device strapped to it.
Carina wets a rag and kneels, beginning to wipe the floor. Every second seemed to drag on for years and Willie felt like she did in the forests of her home; nervously excited with a certain insatiable bloodlust as she waits in the bushes to kill her next meal.
Soon the weak prey turns her back to re-wet her rag. The predator lunges forward silently and swiftly, grabbing her by her throat to silence any screams. Prey’s eyes go wide and fingers claw desperately at the suffocating firmness around her.
Willie drags Carina into her tank, through the mess on the floor and up to her chest. The blood pumps through her veins, adrenaline making her stronger and eventually she can feel Carina’s spine in her palm, so close she can feel the bumps in her vertebrae.
The woman’s pawing becomes softer and softer, her pleaing grunts becoming quieter and quieter. Eyes roll up into her skull and she goes limp and heavy in Willie’s hands. Willie reaches down to her wrist and unstraps the device that controls the disc in her neck.
Strapping it on her own wrist, Willie begins punching every button she can find. How the hell do I turn this thing off? Her mind panics. Suddenly there is a beep and Willie quickly prays to every God she knows that that has done it.
Her head darts from side to side as she emerges from her tank for the first time in over a week. Not a soul is in sight and the coast is clear.
She steps swiftly and quietly through the gallery, keeping herself as concealed as possible. She weaves between the rows of glass cases, the creatures and plants inside watching her in awe as she does the thing they all wish they could do; escape.
The door has to be here somewhere. Her mind races and her pores leak profusely as she frantically searches for the exit. Each row only leads to nothingness and Willie starts walking faster and faster through them.
Finally, a grand archway presents itself at the far end of the gallery, barely within view. Face lighting up with relief, Willie makes her way to it, confident and giddy.
“You!” a deep male voice grunts behind her. Her body tenses up again and she whips her head around to see the voice’s owner. The Collector stands down the row from her, Willie equidistant between him and freedom.
She sprints as fast as she can for the door. Taneleer reaches his wrist up to push the button on his device to slow her down. Nothing happens. He presses it again and looks up. She is still running, and alarmingly fast.
His heart tenses and he shouts, “Get her!” No one rushes to his aid and he runs after her himself. Willie reaches the archway and dashes out into the familiar streets of Knowhere.
Luckily there was a crowd and she soon absorbs herself into it, hiding herself in the swarm of bodies lining the strip. By the time Taneleer emerges from his gallery, she is gone. He looks down at his wrist computer again and see a red dot on a radar. “You’ll be mine again...”
***
Weaving quickly through the crowd, stealing the paranoid look over her shoulder, Willie looks everywhere for The Collector or his goons. She’s certain they are right behind her.
After walking the streets and not seeing any sight of them for an hour, she relaxes. She’s outrun them… for now. Willie looks down at her vomit and sweat stained jumpsuit. If she wants to blend in and get off this planet, she’s going to have to change clothes.
She desperately searches the streets for where her ship was parked prior to her kidnapping. That comforting and familiar empty space between two buildings was a sight for sore eyes. A bright smile spreads across Willie’s lips and she runs to her ship. She can’t wait to throw open the doors of that fantastic invisible box and-
Reaching the space, she runs right through it. Where her ship should have been is empty. Her ship is gone.
Willie begins to panic, “No…” she whispers. She frantically feels the air for it. Spinning in circles like a mad man she searches for something that isn’t there. “No,” she repeats. “No no no.” She stomps the ground in anger. “He took it. Taneleer Tivan took my fucking ship.”
She gazes back out into the alleyway, “I need a phone…”
***
Hanging his ammo belt up on the rack at the entrance of his ship, Rocket sighs. Jobs just don’t satisfy him like they used to. The rush of blowing something up and taking someone down just doesn’t get his goat anymore.
They used to give him a sense of fulfillment that satiated his core like a desert flower getting its yearly rain. Things are… well… different now. He knew deep down why, but would never admit it to anyone, especially himself.
With heavy limbs, he trudges to the kitchen. Bounty hunting can sure work up the appetite. Rocket steps on his small ladder to reach the top cabinet. Before he can even fully grasp the handle of the door, the holocommunicator on the dining table rings.
His movements stop. He debates whether he should let it ring out or if he should walk over and reject the call. Either way, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The raccoon returns to the task at hand and opens the cabinet.
In the background, the ringing stops. “Guess they didn’t want to talk either.”
Reaching into the cabinet he pulls out a box of food and begins preparing it. He pours the contents of the plastic container into a plastic bowl, sighing with tired eyes and feeble fingers.
The ringing begins again and Rocket growls to no one in particular. Teeth bared, he angrily looks over his shoulder at the table muttering to himself, “Can I not sit down for five goddamn minutes?” Eventually, the ringing stops once more.
Tension releasing, the raccoon takes his food and walks to the captain’s chair to eat it. As he passes the table and holocommunicator sitting on it. It begins yelling at him again, almost as if it knew he was walking by.
Angry beyond comprehension, he slams his food on the table, a few bits of it falling out onto the surface of the tabletop. “Who could it possibly be?” he shouts at the top of his lungs. He picks of the glowing translucent blue tablet and reads the message:
Voice Communication. A3-Sector B09
The code at the end was instantly recognizable to Rocket. It told the raccoon that this call was coming from Knowhere. But why? At this point, Rocket’s anger has subsided and curiosity is slowly taking its place.
Slowly, he takes his paw and taps the accept button. Immediately he hears a hustle and bustle in the background of the call, confirming this call was where the communicator said.
“Hello?” the raccoon’s voice is unsure.
“Rocket!? Oh thank God I was starting to think you wouldn’t pick up,” distinctive voice worries to him. It was shaky and scared.
Rocket’s heart drops at the sound of it and he nearly faints, “Willie?”
She smiles on her end, “Yeah it’s me.” There is a pause as she swallows nervously, “Rocket, I’m in trouble. I need you.”
Rocket opens his mouth to offer his assistance but is suddenly reminded of the full situation. She left him. She left him after he poured his heart out to her. She doesn’t deserve his help. “Why should I help you?” he grunts.
Willie almost chokes at those words, “What the hell do you mean? Rocket, please. I need your help. I’m stuck here.”
He only shrugs, “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
The Gallifreyan bites a lip and lowers her voice, “Rocket, listen. I’m sorry for how stupid I was being. This whole thing with our feelings just is kinda hard for me…” she sighs, “I… I shouldn’t have left. I really had no reason to except that I was scared. But trust me when I say I tried to get back to you. I really did.”
Tears welling in his eyes, Rocket tries his best to make it sound like he isn’t crying, “Then what the hell stopped you?” he spits.
“I was kidnapped!” Willie shouts, her voice going through the communicator and filling Rocket’s ship.
He is taken aback by this, “Y-you were what?”
The woman lets out a deep breath, “The Collector got me. He’s been after me for years and he finally got me. It’s a wonder I was able to get out.” She anxiously scans the crowd as she speaks into the communicator on the Knowhere streets, “I think he still might be on my tail though. Can never be too sure. I need to get this stupid thing out of my neck. How soon can you be here? Because I am dying to kill this piece of shit.”
“Willie…” he trails off, unable to think of what else to say.
“Please Rocket, I need my big man to come rescue me.”
His heart flutters and he smiles, “I love you,” he blurts out.
Willie sighs, grinning like mad, “I think I might feel the same.”
The smile on Rocket’s face couldn’t be wider, “Lay low for a while doll. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
***TAG LIST***
@animeaniseed @youralienfriend @fandoms-4-life0000 @groovy-bouquet-starlight @okie--loki @tara-jadet1ffen @rosaufyuniverse
#rocket raccoon x reader#rocket x reader#rocket raccoon x ofc#rocket raccoon#gotgvol2#gotg#peter quill#drax#Gamora#i am groot#groot#mantis#marvel
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(I was asked to continue with this astronaut AU and I got caught on the idea of how a musician/photographer could have met a software engineer who happens to do a lot of work on a space station, and this was the result, and thanks to @stopmopingstarthoping for asking for this.)
Quick Fic Pick 72: can you see me, major?
The bed looks awful good, Prompto thinks, the bed looks awful good and so do the threadbare blankets, so do the squashed-flat pillows, but -- every step he takes causes him to shed an awful amount of glitter onto the cold tiled floors and he curses the cheap beer and the hangover that’s already creeping in around the edges of the back of his mind, and he forces himself to head into the tiny bathroom.
He maybe curses the piano he’d been stuck with -- something fatally wrong with the pedals -- he’d had to improvise and go without any of the usual three and as a result his ears are still ringing, because the little bar had already been too loud and then his songs had been discordant, harsh, stripped bare of sostenuto and of legato, and he’s never never never doing anything like that ever again -- worst comes to worst, he’ll improvise on an electronic keyboard.
Anything but that jangling shit sound that’s still maybe sawing at his nerves even after he washes his hair three times, even after the water goes lukewarm and he leaves a trail of swirling spiraling sparkling muck on the shower drain.
Maybe he should have taken the sleeping tablets that Iris had tried to press on him. Maybe he should have smuggled Holly’s pot into the venue. Sleeping’s the farthest thing from his mind, here in this lonely shoebox of a motel room, a hundred miles from home and he can’t just make a beeline for his actual own quarters because he still has shit to do in the morning.
Shit like -- he groans, and lays out his only “get in front of the cameras and smile” outfit out on the bare shelves of the tall thin closet. Black button-down shirt, neon-green tie, undershirt, boxers, red-striped socks.
The bed fits him exactly: it is as long as he is and as wide as he is, and he curls himself up into a miserable ball of blanket and pillows, and he goes to charge his phone and he has to look, he has to look, because he can’t breathe and he misses his room and all the other things that live in that room. The ginger cat that belongs to the family next door, that spends most of its nights sleeping on top of his baby grand piano. The safe that contains his hoard of film cartridges for his analog SLR camera. The equally secured crate with its multiple lock-holes for his digital cameras.
All he has for this trip is the usual, which is his smartphone, which is now exactly two years, eight months, and three days out of date but it’s still got the single best camera he’s ever encountered in this kind of thing and so he’s gonna hold on until the thing breaks itself into little bits and pieces of shattered glass and circuit boards.
Fortunately the image he needs to look at is -- freely available online, freely remixable.
Impossible to find a comfortable spot in this bed so he just flops back onto the pillow and swipes to the image, the first file in the camera roll on this device.
The image is labeled “sand dunes” on the ’net, and he’s long since given up on complaining that it just doesn’t do any justice to the actual view, and he feasts his eyes, and thinks about letting go of the day and of the night and of all of the aggravations in his life.
Calm and dynamic all at once: looking straight down from the Eos Space Station, the image shows off the dusty-golden sands of the Leide deserts, and the single rarity of Lake Hammerhead, still and huge and the perfect reflection of the blue skies in that region. Cloud formations in the image cast shadows onto the sands and onto the lake’s shores, and in the lower-right corner, still mostly clear when he swipes to zoom in, are the hundreds upon hundreds of specks of captured movement: the migration of a massive herd of coeurls.
Every time he looks at the image he finds new details: a statue casting a strange shadow, a particularly elegant curve of dune, new and different phantom shapes in the cloud formations.
Every time he looks at the image he finds himself being able to take a deep clean breath: it must be the colors and the lighting, or it could be the idea of that oddly suspended serenity that he finds in the tension between the clouds and the coeurls and the shapes in the sand.
He takes that breath, and the words fall almost gently into his mind, the line fully formed and he swipes to one of the note-taking apps and locates one of his documents.
Maybe this is the line that completes a stanza, or this is the line that begins the chorus -- the idea blows softly away and he lets himself focus on the one thing, the important thing, which is -- capturing the line.
Sailing shadows in a summer-spark sky
He numbers that line, following all the others he’s already drafted, and he hums quietly to himself and the memory of the image allows him to stay calm, and veer away from the usual stresses of creating something new and something he’s never heard before.
And then, just because he can, he switches to a different document in the app, and reviews the story behind the image of Leide, taken from space: the name of the photographer. How the scene had been captured in the first place. Nothing more or less than a complete accident, a calibration of image sensors, a mistake.
It’s a damn pretty mistake, Prompto thinks, and he falls asleep and dreams of stars sparkling embedded in those desert-stretch ripples -- stars that are still winking in the dawn a few hours later, when he’s woken up and asked to get dressed and this is the last time he’s participating in one of those early-morning news-magazine shows.
He can’t quite smile, when he’s ushered into the green rooms and he crosses his arms atop the nearest horizontal surface, puts his head down, thinks of coeurls on the run and closes his eyes --
“This seat taken?”
He shakes his head.
“I’ll -- leave you to it then.”
Some impulse makes him shake his head a little, and groan, and mutter, “Sorry. I swear I’m not usually rude like this. Not enough sleep.”
“Ah. Well,” and is there something familiar about that voice? But his head is so heavy, and the climate control in the room keeps his sleeves cool and comfortable. “Been a while since I pulled the good kind of all-nighter.”
“There’s no such thing,” Prompto says, and he sighs and keeps his eyes closed when he straightens up. He only turns his head in the direction of the other voice. “And I’m telling you that as someone who has to do all-nighters all the fucking time.”
“So what are you doing up so early?”
“Beats me,” he says. “Not like I’m even supposed to be singing, they want me to talk about the other thing,” and he raises his hands, pretends to hold up a camera, pretends to click the shutter button.
“Ah. That’s a little different from singing, isn’t it?”
He snorts. “A little and a lot.”
“Just so.”
Before he can make up his mind to open his eyes, there’s a rustle of movement on his other side, and a voice saying, “No, no, don’t open, you need a lot of concealer right now.”
Prompto groans in agreement. “Please. I’d do it myself if I had steadier hands.”
“Let me work.”
By the time the makeup is misted and set, he’s alone in the green room, and he only has the ghost of that almost-known voice to go by, and he doesn’t even have a face to match that voice to.
So it’s a real shock when he’s joined on one of the couch-sets by --
“Have you met?” the segment host chirps. “You know, common interests and all?”
And Ignis Scientia, sitting next to him, smiles in a small precise way, and shakes his head. “Hardly. But I’m happy to be here, and I hope to learn something from Mr Argentum.”
“Not sure I have anything to teach you when it comes to looking at things,” he blurts out, and the words fall in a puddle between them, completely reckless.
“I am not worried about my eyes; I am worried about everything else,” and Ignis fucking Scientia performs the exact same gesture of holding up a nonexistent camera, of taking a photograph -- only he’s looking straight at Prompto when he does it -- looking at him, and smiling, and Prompto takes a deep breath, and attempts to smile back.
“Oh, interesting,” the host says, and Prompto knows he’s beet-red for the entire time he’s on the air with the exact same Ignis Scientia who’d accidentally taken the photograph that’s been his obsession for some time now.
And he can still feel the heat lingering in his forehead and his throat when he says, safely off the couch-set, “What exactly is stopping you from taking pictures anyway? Are you that busy, in space?”
“I’m afraid I am; and I’m afraid I get stuck looking at code anyway, so.” Even a shrug is elegant, on him, and Prompto would curse him if he hadn’t been drinking in the prettiness of him, if he hadn’t been itching to take a picture of him.
And all he’s got is his smartphone and he raises it helplessly between them, and Ignis Scientia only nods, small calm measured movement, and Prompto’s hand is shaking but the image he takes comes out startlingly vivid and clear.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly look like that.”
“You actually do,” Prompto says.
“I’d like a copy, if you don’t mind -- let me give you my number. I think I’ll still be using this one for a few more days.”
“Or I could work on this a little and then send it to you afterwards,” he says, scrambling for his footing in a familiar topic.
“I would like that. It was lovely to meet you. Mr Argentum.”
“Prompto,” he says, holding his hand out at last. “You don’t have to be so damn formal, and no one calls me that anyway.”
“Then please call me Ignis, and will you please email me -- your work?”
“Yeah.”
(He does a little better, once he’s done jittering, and the email he sends has the processed portrait as an attachment, and the following lines:
(Sailing shadows in a summer-spark sky -- catch the clouds and the contrails in careful hands like yours)
#stopmopingstarthoping#milodrums#pairing: promnis#character: prompto argentum#character: ignis scientia#music and lyrics#fic: mine#quick fic pick
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Robin x Reader: The Bird Tattoo~Part Thirteen {END} (Soulmate AU)
A/n: Pardon my language but fUcKiNg FiNaLLy; the end of this series is long past due. I loved writing it, but I really need to move on to different characters and different story lines! Thank you guys so much for all the notes, reblogs, cute tags, and praise throughout the series! So, without further delay, enjoy the final chapter of The Bird Tattoo! I hope you guys like it because I kind of botched the end of it!
Robin felt so defeated when he found out about your breakdown. He found out the next morning when Black Canary sat beside you, just after she replaced the bandages on you throat. The scratches weren’t very deep, but they still needed to be cleaned and bandaged.
“Why did this happen? I don’t understand,she was doing so well...” Robin was already on the verge of tears. He thought you were getting better, and you still were, but some of the progress was lost.
“She lost her powers, Robin.”
Hearing that almost tore him to the ground, too. Your mocking abilities made you, you. You very rarely loathed them, but you otherwise greatly embraced them. The ability gave you life, gave you skill, and pure joy through and through. Now he understood why you were hurting so. On top of that, because of your powers, he got to meet you. If you ended up with no mocking abilities, The Doctor surely would have killed you.
Just like mourning your death, the team mourned the loss of your powers. Mockingbird wasn’t Mockingbird without them, so they made it their top priority to find out how to get them back between missions. This meant research, consulting other heroes, all sorts of different things to heave in as much information as possible.
Batman ran another blood test and he got all sorts of useful results. He discovered that all of your mockingbird DNA was still there, but the elongated agitation was caused by stress, mental strain from PTSD, and obviously injuries from the explosion. In turn, the DNA agitation caused a negative spike in your behavior, which was why you had random outbursts of anger and disobedience. But he had no idea as to why you couldn’t mock anymore, despite the DNA still being there.
Batman didn’t find a solid explanation, but he had a hunch that your trances were becoming your body’s way of preventing physically unhealthy effects, caused by PTSD, from agitating the mockingbird DNA. Why it never happened during missions, Batman didn’t know. But, he was beyond thankful for it.
Speaking of your trances, they occurred once or twice every day. Each one was longer than the last, and your team stood by you for all of it. They took turns every once in a while and brought you books, watched movies one your tablets (they were shocked by how many top-quality devices you built), ate with you, and all sorts of friendly activities you could participate in while laying in your hospital bed.
Conner and M’gann gave you a couple home-made stress balls they learned how to make by watching a video on the internet. They were a surprising gift, but they were very cute and served their purpose quite well. Conner felt a little guilty for the times you two butted heads; it rarely happened, but he still felt bad. So, in light of that, he brought you some colored pencils, markers, and a coloring book. It was such a cute gesture and he was startled when you hugged him, but he very awkwardly and briefly returned the embrace.
Using the cameras, Green Arrow and Aquaman found out that Kaldur occasionally snuck into the med bay at night and put you in a wheelchair to go around the Cave. He knew how much you valued freedom, so he did the best he could to give you some without letting you leave Mount Justice. You talked about anything that came to mind throughout the small journey, and you even made him laugh with a complex and well-thought-out joke. He wasn’t scolded for it, and the two adults didn’t tell Batman. It was a very kind and thoughtful thing for Kaldur to do.
Wally brought games to play, such as darts, Monopoly, Clue, checkers, and you taught everyone how to play poker. However, Clue led to bickering between Robin and Kaldur, you almost took Artemis out with a dart, checkers always ended within a few minutes, a few of them regularly forgot the rules of poker, and Monopoly always brought yelling and throwing game pieces. But you had plenty of laughs and fun all the same.
After school, Robin came to see you with Artemis, who carried a small stack of books and a packet of paper. Robin sat next you and held your hand as usual and Artemis sat on the other side of the bed. Robin dramatically kissed the back of your hand, making you giggle and Artemis rolled her eyes, but she had a small smile on her face.
“I brought you some books in Spanish, French, Italian, and English,” Artemis held up the books and set them on the small table next to your bed. “And I got you a Romanian packet to work on.”
You grinned “I actually finished it when I was ‘grounded’. I had nothing else to do, so I worked on it for hours at a time.” It was great that you learned a new language, but the circumstances? Not so much. “But I can do it anyway; you brought a pencil, right?” You couldn’t help being excited.
“Duh,” Artemis held up a pencil. “I didn’t expect you to write the answers in your blood.”
Robin chuckled and let go of your hand so you could grab the packet and the pencil. You grabbed a book and placed it under the paper and went to work. On instinct, you wrote your name and the date on the top and you read the first question.
You had to translate ‘I went to buy a new set of curtains, but they were out of stock at the store’ into Romanian, and it usually wouldn’t be a problem, especially since you became fluent. For some reason, you could barely do half of the first sentence and you started to panic.
Robin noticed your distressed face and asked, “(Y/n)? You alright?”
You rubbed at your eyes to prevent tears. You quickly shook your head and whimpered, “I can’t understand any of it. I can’t remember.” Sobs threatened to escaped, but you used your abdominal muscles to restrict upper body movement and you breathed very slowly. “I don’t understand any of it-!”
Artemis registered it after a few moments, and she felt like throwing up. The loss of your powers took away all of the foreign languages with it, affecting your intelligence. This was going to dramatically change you more than anyone thought it would.
Your bottom lip quivered slightly before you bit it. Your life was crashing down right in front of you and you weren’t strong enough to hold it up. Was there any point in going back to school? This new development would put you too far behind, you’d lose your position as captain, and your 4.5 GPA would plummet. You refused to break down again, but it was hard to not cry hysterically. You had a right to, but you weren’t letting it happen again.
Robin’s hands started to shake a little, but he hid it from you. “Do you think you can do Spanish?” He asked. When you responded in perfect Spanish, he and Artemis were relieved. It was the first foreign language you learned, so at least you had that.
But everything else? All of the other languages you knew? Gone. Erased from your memory, save for a few vocab words and insults here and there. You wanted to punch things until your knuckles bled. You yearned to break things and reduce them to dust, just like you were reduced from a highly intelligent individual to an average-minded teenage girl.
“I... I want to be alone right now.” Your voice wavered, and you didn’t look them in the eye. “Please leave...”
Robin moved to put a hand on your arm. “I don’t think you should be alone right n-”
“Get. Out.” You growled and jerked away from him. This was too much for you to handle in front of them, so you were going to handle it alone. You were already becoming more angry, and you didn’t want to take it out on them.
Artemis slowly nodded and cautiously rose from her seat. “Okay. We’ll see you later, (Y/n).” She walked out the door, briefly stopping to urgently gesture for Robin to follow. He got up as well, sending you a worried glance before exiting the med bay.
You firmly put the pencil on top of the other stack of books and you crumpled the packet up in your hands. You threw the ball of paper across the room, but you greatly missed the trash can, and you punched the mattress angrily. It looks like you lost your accuracy, too.
The soft pillow caught your head as you violently sat back. You clenched your jaw as you felt more tears falling, and you held a dangerous mix of fury and sorrow. What were you becoming? Why was this happening to you?
A long time ago, all you wanted to be was normal. Now you wanted to be anything but normal. You wanted to be Mockingbird. You wanted to stay Mockingbird!
First your tattoo, then your powers, but now your enhanced intelligence?
This isn’t fair.
The Justice League was holding a meeting, specifically about you. The night before, Artemis told Green Arrow about what happened when you tried doing a Romanian worksheet. It was as if every step forward came with two steps back. They weren’t considering getting rid of you, not at all, but they didn’t know how to help you. Every idea was shot down by a high price (not money) they couldn’t afford to pay.
“What else can we do!?” Black Canary almost shouted, slamming her hand down on the table. “At this point, Mockingbird has lost everything that makes her Mockingbird! This has to be fixed!” Dinah was ready to pull out her hair. If this change was going to be permanent, you would be an almost entirely different person.
“We’ve gone through almost every option,” Wonder Woman said calmly. “I’m not sure if this can be fixed by force. If there’s nothing we can do, the only option we have left is to give it time.”
Flash was darting around the room every two seconds, going over every idea they had and hadn’t suggested. Your powers were from a former professional scientist, who wasn’t always at the top of the scientific ladder. Cassius Henze had to learn how to be a scientist somewhere, right?
The loud arguing dulled to hardly any sound as the Justice League watched Flash work on one of the computers, pulling up files in a literal blur. He absorbed the information as quick as it came up, and he was slowly nearing the solution they were dying to find.
“Cassius Henze... Star City... Seattle University... S.T.A.R. Labs... Central City High School...” Barry’s head shot up after a few moments of mumbling. “S.T.A.R. Labs! He was an intern at S.T.A.R. Labs!” He dove right back in and went through the S.T.A.R. Labs files from at least a decade ago.
The heroes of the room were either intrigued or very concerned. “Who was an intern at-” Green Arrow started to ask.
“Cassius Henze! He is, well, was The Doctor, right?” Flash turned his head to look at him as his arms still moved around the keyboard. “He started his scientist career with an internship, which was where he started his research on animal experimentation.”
“Do you think he-”
“From what I remember, S.T.A.R. Labs keeps a digital and paper records of submitted research and experiments. But, since he was there decades ago, I would assume that all of the things he tried out are hidden away in dusty and forgotten filing cabinets.”
Green Arrow was struck with an idea. “So if we get our hands on the files, then -interrupt me one more time and you’ll get an arrow between your eyes!- we can go through his research and find a way to restore Mockingbird’s powers!” Oliver was filled with fresh motivation and he started forming a plan.
The Flash was literally buzzing with excitement as he ran over to Batman. “Okay, so, we need to get Cassius Henze’s research and lab reports from S.T.A.R. Labs, are we supposed to go in normally and get them or-”
It was Barry’s turn to be interrupted, but by Batman. “I’ll handle that. However, we need alternatives if this doesn’t work.” The brooding bat said and he turned to leave. “I’ll be back.” You weren’t you without your powers. You were the soulmate of his son. He was compelled to help you in any way possible and in the easiest, most efficient way available.
The world never knew if Batman broke in, played the civilian card, or bought the files that night.
You didn’t have an actual conversation with anyone for almost two days. If you played any games or read any books, you were silent. When Kaldur took you out on the wheelchair, it was a wordless journey. Neither of you really minded; the silence was rather peaceful in that situation.
Robin wasn’t used to the lack of conversing with you, but actions speak louder than words. So you eventually let him lay in the hospital bed with you, and you were found curled up in his arms in the most delicate way possible, lest he hurt you. It was a very cute sight, but he had to leave eventually.
It was earth-shattering to find out that even your reflexes and accuracy were deteriorating. This time, you didn’t just feel worthless. You knew you were useless. It wasn’t a feeling anymore; it was a fact. You went from a rising hero to a powerless and defenseless civilian, who can only be a bystander instead of a protagonist in the battle.
Once again, you were staring at the ceiling you were starting to hate. You were due to be moved out of the med bay and back to your comfortable (probably dusty as hell) room in a day or so, but time was going in slow motion for you. You didn’t want to be a normal, dime-a-dozen civilian. You didn’t want an average intelligence level or an average amount of strength. You hated the thought of being scarred and weak, but there you were. Literally scarred for life and back to existing as a standard human being.
Batman wasn’t too far away from you while going over some files you didn’t know he had. He seemed to be gathering materials for some sort of experiment, but you didn’t see the point in asking. There was nothing you could do to help. There was barely anything you could do at all.
“You guys aren’t going to get rid of me, are you?” You asked hazily with a blank look in your (e/c) eyes.
He somewhat sounded appalled at your inquiry. “No. Why would we ever do that?”
“My powers are gone. I don’t remember any of the languages I learned aside from English and Spanish. I don’t have good reflexes anymore. Hell, my soulmate tattoo is burned; you can’t even tell what it is. Maybe dying in the explosion is what should have happened.” Your voice was a mix of bitterness and a loss of hope. You were giving up. “I’m useless.”
Batman’s sharp response made you flinch. “But you didn’t die in the explosion and we’re all very thankful for that. You’re injured. You aren’t going to be in perfect shape for a while, but not useless.” He explained, his voice was nearly harsh. “You still have a purpose, Mockingbird.”
“What’s the point in calling me that?! I’m just a standardized kid in hospital bed! I’m never going to be Mockingbird again!” You snapped at the big-bad-bat himself.
“Because you’re getting your powers back, one way or another.” Batman’s voice was dark and would be scary to anyone else. “You are valuable to this team and you are Robin’s soulmate. And those are only two reasons.” This was out of character for him, but you tended to do that to people. “Now hold still.”
“What? Why?” You gave him a cautious look and leaned back.
You didn’t have your usual reaction time, so you didn’t anticipate Batman to rush at you with a needle and plunge it into your arm. You thrashed in his hold as he held you down against the bed, freaking out as he injected you with whatever was in the syringe at the proper pace. Injecting too fast never ended well.
You were prepared to chew him out when Batman pulled away, but your vision went a little blurry, and you felt like you were floating. Your arms and legs felt numb and everything felt odd. “What... did you do...?” You slurred and you let your head fall back on your pillow. This was like the time you got high when you walked in on about half a dozen girls smoking weed in the bathroom.
“Injected you with something that should work. Be thankful.” To you, Batman sounded like he was joyful and joking, but he was just his normal self with his stone-cold voice and stature.
Suddenly, a searing pain went through your body and you felt like your body was shriveling up, constricting everything. You let out a tear-jerking cry of agony before passing out, your arm flopping down onto the mattress and your hand hung off the bed.
Batman was teeny bit worried at this. “I really hope that’s supposed to happen...” A few drops of regret got into his system, accompanied by a dash of self-doubt and a pinch of ‘holy shit, did I just kill a teenager?’
It was nearly twelve hours later and you still hadn’t stirred. Batman hooked you up to a heart monitor to make sure you were still alive and even gave you an IV. It didn’t look like you were waking up any time soon (you were unable to eat or drink) and Batman was freaking out. It almost started to show. He injected you with something he barely tested, and he didn’t consult the Justice League about it. He made an impulsive, rash decision without planning... just like you and everyone else on the team!
‘Damn it, I put Mockingbird into a coma.’ Batman thought, and some colorful language followed. He contemplated sneaking Alfred to the med bay again, but that idea went out the window when the med bay doors opened.
The team walked in as a small cluster and were chatting amongst themselves about another recent mission. It was successful once again, and they were barely bruised. The easiest mission yet.
“Hey Batman, how’s (Y/n)?” Wally asked. They all knew your first name now, much to your chagrin, but it was the least of your problems.
Batman just stayed quiet and felt very uncomfortable. “Well-”
Robin bounced on past him, excited to see you, without waiting for a response, then promptly shouted, “What the hell happened?!”
The rest of them barged past Batman and were shocked to see you connected to a heart monitor with an IV, and the still-healing burns made it a more grisly sight.
“Did she get out of bed?!”
“Is she okay?!”
“Why does she need these?!”
As if the situation couldn’t get any worse for Batman, Red Arrow and Black Canary came in to the med bay as well. Roy was only able to visit a couple times; this one was his third. The last thing he expected to see was you laying in a hospital bed looking like a corpse.
Black Canary looked at Batman with death in her eyes. “Batman... What did you do?” Her voice was dangerously calm, and it scared your comrades.
“...I got Cassius Henze’s files from S.T.A.R. Labs, and the solution for agitated DNA was included. I made the solution, and injected it into Mockingbird’s arm. This must be one of the side-affects that I was unfortunately unaware of.”
“Well did you read through the entire thing?!”
“Yes. Several times.”
“Did you test it?” Black Canary growled through gritted teeth.
“I don’t recall ever having anything to test on whatsoever, so no.”
Dinah was trying very hard to not use her Canary Cry. “And to think the Batman went in blind without knowing if this ‘solution’ was going to work or kill her!”
“It’s going to work. Look at the files-”
Roy stepped up with his jaw clenched. “How can you be so sure? You thought locking her up was going to work,” He gestured to your injured body. “But that didn’t work out so well, did it?” Roy was furious when he heard you were locked in your room, and absolutely distraught when he was told you died. Then he was relieved that you were alive, but seeing you wrapped in bandages made him hurt. “I swear to God, Batman, if she dies...”
While the adults argued, M’gann put two fingers to your forehead and gently dove into your mind. She got a weak connection to you, and it wasn’t going to last long.
“My, my, fancy seeing you here! M’gann, can you please tell me why am I trapped inside my own pounding skull?” You said sarcastically and you saw flickers of her as she appeared in your mind.
“From what I heard, Batman injected you with some sort of ‘cure’ that will get your powers back, but I don’t think any of us are very happy about it. Roy and Black Canary are yelling at him.”
“I’d like to yell at him, too! All that damn bat said was ‘Now hold still’ and he’s stabbing my arm with a needle a second later! And now look, I’m-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt her unwillingly disconnect.
M’gann didn’t say a word for about half a minute, and the team asked her if you both were alright. Not long after, she started to giggle, and that giggle turned into boisterous laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Robin cocked his head.
Through her laughs, M’gann answered, “She’s so angry-” For some reason, she found the way you worded your anger was hysterical. “When she wakes up, Batman is going to get quite an earful from her!”
The group broke into laughs and giggles and chuckles, but Robin was fretting. If Batman never tested it, what if something really bad happened to you? Granted, it was Batman; he always seemed to know everything, but anyone can be wrong. When it came to your safety, Robin would doubt anyone.
Once again, Robin was staying the night by your side. He still spent some time at home, but he used the rest of the time he had available with you. It was expected; you were his soulmate. He got into the bed with you, avoiding the IV when he gently wrapping his arms around your frail form and prayed to any god listening for you to be alright. Whether if you wake up with your powers or not (preferably with your powers), he was still going to love you with all his heart until the end of his days.
Your chest slowly rose and fell, and the heart monitor emitted a dim but irritating glow down upon you two. The beeping was also annoying, but it gave him comfort all the same. Your heart was beating and healthy and you were alive, and that’s all the mattered.
“Remember when we hated each other?” He asked you, even though he knew you couldn’t listen. “What am I saying, of course you do. God, I would rant about you to Wally all the time. I never told him or anyone else- I think I accidentally said something to Alfred, I’m not sure -but I thought you were really pretty when you first joined the team.” Robin confessed.
His heart cracked a little when you didn’t react. Little did he know, you could actually hear him. You just couldn’t do anything to communicate.
“When you broke into the Batcave, I was angry because I was jealous. You got past all of the security we had without setting anything off. That and you broke into the Batcave. I think that gave all of us a right to be irritated.” Robin took off his sunglasses and chuckled. “I’ll always hold that against you... But only in the most loving way possible, of course.”
Dick went on and on about almost every interaction from his point of you, as if you were actually there to have the conversation. However, you heard every word he spoke. It almost sounded like a whisper but you heard his voice. Although trapped inside your mind, you were smiling.
Unbeknownst to you, it had been nearly two weeks since you first fell into a coma. Hopes barely dimmed, but they were continuously discouraged. Dick ended up not-so-secretly holding it all against Batman for your lack of consciousness, and Batman didn’t blame anyone for doing so. He himself was starting to doubt a positive outcome, but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud.
Robin walked into the med bay with a quiet sigh. ‘She’s going to wake up any day now...!’
Artemis was quietly talking to you as she did her homework. “The robotics team is really starting to worry about you,” She held up a small stack of ‘Get Well’ cards and put them in your hand. “The entire team got you some cards, and I think some flowers, but I have no idea where those went. I had to come up with another excuse; it’s getting harder and harder to hide this from them. Even more of a reason for you to wake up...” Her voice faded out on a sad note.
Robin cleared his throat and Artemis jumped. “How is she?”
Artemis visibly relaxed and gave him a sad look. “There’s been no change. Aside from her weight loss, nothing else is different.” Her fist briefly clenched, but un-clenched a couple seconds later. “We need you to wake up, M.” She told you.
The chair screeched on the floor as Robin pulled it up next to Artemis, taking a seat on it just like he had done almost every single day since you survived the explosion. “Yeah, that’d be perfect right now.” He said. “You need to wake up, get back on your feet, and train some more so you can go out an missions with us again.”
“Yelling at Batman seems like a good option, as well. M’gann said you wanted to do that.” Artemis said and laughed. She lost count of how many times she wanted to do that. “We’ve all been a little upset with him for that.”
Robin and Artemis talked about it and got into a heated discussion over the events that happened in the past couple weeks. A discussion so heated that they didn’t notice your fingers moving, or when your hand tightened around the small cluster of cards. Your eyes fluttered open, and you almost shouted with joy when you could hear their voices clearly, and you could see the med bay with your temporary muddled
You rolled your eyes when they didn’t even glance at you. They were on the verge of arguing about things you had no idea had happened, but you weren’t surprised. They were both throwing out good points and bad points, and you would have some information to shoot them down with, had you never been in a coma. You still felt quite groggy.
‘Thanks, Batman.’
You took the time to examine Artemis and Robin, to the best of your ability. Artemis looked a little more tired than usual, but she didn’t lose any of her fire. It was still burning bright inside her, but you were something that kept that fire flaming. She needed you to keep it ablaze.
Robin looked a little unwell. His skin was a little paler than usual, and he yawned quite often. To you, he sounded a little more sad. But all of your senses were out of sorts, so take that with a grain of salt. Nonetheless, you were still thrilled to be awake and aware.
Their bickering got louder and louder, and it started to hurt your currently sensitive ears. It was annoying the hell out of you and the fact that they hadn’t seen you was mind-boggling. You rubbed your eyes to try and clear your vision, but it only helped a little bit.
You sighed and growled/croaked into your hands, “You know, I love you guys, but you need to shut the fuck up, alright?” You made your presence known, and you were very grumpy. You had a right to be, after all. Obviously, you would feel bad about saying that later, but you didn’t want to wake up from a coma to yelling
The two of them stopped arguing instantly and nearly choked. You were awake! No longer in a coma! Able to talk back! They didn’t know how to react for a good moment, but you weren’t even concerned. You were more hungry than anything. “If you’re not going to say anything, can I have food?”
You didn’t get food, but your face was peppered with kisses from Robin and Artemis instantly called Black Canary and your teammates shortly after. They were happy that you weren’t going to stay in a coma that would last years, and especially happy that you still had your memories. Your mood went from grumpy to exhilarated in the blink of an eye, but was sure to soon turn sour.
Robin hugged you tightly, and kissed your cheek for about the twentieth time. “You’re finally up, I’m so happy you’re-”
It was your turn to kiss his cheek, and you put your hand on his other cheek and turned his head to see his eyes- well, his sunglasses. “I missed you.” You said with a loving smile and you kissed him right on the lips.
He almost melted in your embrace and he kissed back with no hesitation. It had been too long since your last kiss, in his and your opinion. You kissed for a few moments longer, before pulling away when other heroes entered the room. You weren’t too keen on PDA at this age. “I love you...” Robin secretly whispered in your ear.
“I love you, too.”
Hugs and some more cheek-kisses were sent your way, as were happy tears. You didn’t tell them that you could hear them talking throughout your coma, not yet. But you were going to give Robin so much crap about the things he said while you were under.
“Try mocking, (Y/n).” Black Canary urged you to mock. “Let’s see if Batman did the right thing.” She grumbled bitterly.
You opened your mouth, but closed it again. “What if it didn’t work?” You asked quietly, and your fingers fidgeted. Robin grabbed them, his eyes pleading for you to just try.
You inhaled deeply, and gave it all you got. “The snack that smiles back, Goldfish!” There was pure silence, and a huge, beaming smile appeared on your face. It sounded identical to the real slogan and you shrieked with joy. “I can mock again! I-I can still be Mockingbird!” You wanted to jump from your bed and dance, but plenty of them would pin you back down on the bed, so you decided against it. Robin did didn’t hesitate to briefly kiss you again, much to the disgust of the bystanders
“You always were Mockingbird.” A familiar voice came from the doorway. Batman stood there, observing the heart-warming scene. Your reaction was something he expected, but not entirely prepared for. Dynamite comes in small packages, but you were like a giant crate of C4.
Your eye twitched and you clenched your jaw. Yes, you were thankful for getting your powers back, but you were pissed. If you were up and able to train with no setbacks, you would be hurling punches and kicks.
“Listen here, you overgrown bat!” You cried out furiously and you lit into him.
You yelling at Batman was a memory that was treasured and laughed about for years to come. You even kept the recording from the security camera. After a few more days of healing, you got back to training, and then back to missions not long after. Villains and criminals learned to quake in their shoes at the mere mention of your name, especially when it was paired with Robin, and eventually Nightwing.
The moment your life got back on track was the moment your life with your soulmate truly began. Neither of you knew what the future held, which pains and pleasures of life were to come, but all you knew was that your future was one you shared with Dick.
And you were happy with that.
{THE END}
Damn, that series was one hell of a ride! Once again, thank you guys so much for supporting me and this series which might get a sequel series that would continue into season two and kudos to those to made it this far!
~Ren
#the bird tattoo#robin#robin imagine#robin x reader#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson imagine#young justice#young justice imagine#young justice season 1#young justice x reader#artemis#black canary#miss martian#batman#kaldur'ahm#kaldur#aqualad#wally west#kid flash#superboy
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Woolgathering
August 5th 2018
Themes: LGBTQ+ Dreams
A/N: I don’t feel like this piece conveys the emotion I wanted to put into it, but in a way I think that’s the point of the story in the first place. I wrote this because of a dream, and then it took on a shape of its own.
It wasn’t a bad idea at the time. Something about the red ink on a price tag seduced her into picking up the last box on the shelf. The sense of urgency and excitement quickly faded shortly after during the car ride home. Afterward, the box was left alone to the farther end of her kitchens fake granite countertop.
Once during a usual Friday night, Ophella decided to remove the device from the box. Sometimes the best distractions from perceived noise and heightened senses were anything that would remove her eyes from the screen. The episode of The Twilight Zone that night hadn’t convinced her that aliens would invade the one bedroom apartment, but it did leave her mind tickled by the possibility.
A button and a pair of headgear that resembled a scuba mask are what she paid a steep price of eighty dollars with money she could have used on something more useful like milk or tennis shoes. The machine and all its warning pamphlets were haphazardly tucked back into their box and left untouched for another three months.
“We can try it but I’m not really all that tired right now-” Shelani said. She bowed her head making her brown eyes appear larger and quieter than they actually were. Ophella flips her phone over to check the time and nods. Neither women really went to sleep till the youngest hours of the next day. On weekends like this, they would sit quietly in the living room browsing the internet or watching their individual shows until sleep begged for them. Tonight would have been no different if it wasn’t for the undeposited paycheck in her purse leaving all subscriptions on hold for the time being. Tonight they would have to entertain themselves.
“I’m not tired either. We have melatonin though.” The tablets were bought a full year ago to help with adjusting to the time difference between Seattle and Portland. After the hasty move, the apartments empty spaces and purring boiler room next door would leave her eyes constantly shifting. It almost amused her how living alone birthed a feeling of constant company.
Shelani’s lips stretched into a puffy mauve line. Ophella waited for her suggestion to shake hands with gently put rejection or a well-placed silence. Perhaps it had been too perverse an idea. Ophella curls herself into an apology.
“OK, but me first. On you I mean-” Shelani clarified. Her arm is thrown around Ophella’s wide shoulders. Their cheeks rub against each other and their mixing hair crunched in both their ears. The sensation brings up memories of brown butter hissing in a hot pan.
Two plastic blue cups are taken down from the cabinets with a bit of effort. Luckily some sweet tea remained from their pizza delivery earlier. Two purple tablets are scratched out of their foil wrappings and popped into Ophella’s mouth. She swallowed them dry before remembering to take a sip of her drink.
From where she stood she watched as Shelani worked her short sable hair into a hairband found on the floor. The box is flicked open and the headgear pulled out and over the woman’s oblong head. Blindly her long fingers paw at the air. They laughed together.
“Aren’t you afraid of seeing something weird? Like we can’t come back from this kind of weird. Dreams can be really fucked up you know-” Not that Shelani had any particular concerns in mind. Most nights were dreamless. For a few moments or so she would simply fall out of existence and back into it again. Occasionally the odd dream or so would occur, but they weren’t much to remember or enjoy. In most, she was doing painfully unfantastic things like texting or going to work. She had come to envy those who could live again through dreaming.
“I’m not afraid. It’s not like we have to talk about what we see if we see anything,” Ophella answered. Agreeing to not speak about it seemed like the safest option when concerning things as sensitive as dreams and the sort. Her offer caused Shelani to smile the type of smile she makes when she’s getting ready to make a joke. Ophella is already offended before she speaks.
“Shut up and drink your tea.” The cup is pressed to Shelani’s lips and she drinks down the sweet liquid eagerly. Then Ophella is pulled down so that her stocky legs straddled Shelani’s. The cream color of the carpet created perfect outlines of both their brown skin but burned their thighs and knees. Neither moved much as Shelani emptied her cup and rolls it away till it clinks against the balcony door. As the silence sets in between them again, Ophella feels Shelani’s forearms come to rest against her hips. With the headgear still on its hard to tell if any type of eye-contact could be established between the two. Ophella put her hands somewhere friendly and willed herself to fight the need to announce that she wasn’t yet sleepy. Things happened in silence even if it’s more itchy than tense.
Shelani’s fingers walked themselves up her sides, rest once at her waist, tap dance on her shoulders, and come to rest on the sharpest point of her cheeks. Feeling the need to recuperate Ophella toys with Shelani’s feathery hair. Moments like this between them were rare yet fleeting. Whenever they ended Ophella always felt like she had inhaled too soon and drowned.
Months prior the two held hands and linked their foreheads together as they talked about the stranger sides of life-the unwanted memories and missed connections. They talked till they cried and smiled so often their jaws turned to elderly rubber bands. That night something between them intertwined along with their legs. Shelani did something out of ordinary then. She called Ophella something that left the taste of honey on her tongue and a sense of importance in her throat. ‘You’re my favorite’ she had said before pressing their noses together till their cupid bows met. Something about the word favorite did something. More platonic than ‘darling’, yet more regal than ‘ closest friend’. That encounter left a fluttering butterfly in Ophella’s chest.
“Are you tired yet?” Shelani cut in. She then yawned and removes the headset finally so that she could lay back against the floor and stretch her arms and crack her knuckles.
“No, but it looks like you better let me take your turn if you’re just going to fall asleep before I do,” Ophella laughed. Her weight comes down more comfortably until she feels the hard bones of Shelani’s hips press into her bottom. Several seconds later both shift so that they were lying side by side. The anticipation for Shelani to say or do anything unlike herself slowly starts to overwhelm her favorite friend. Anything. Anything.
“Take your turn first then. I’ll get mine in after a nap if you don’t mind too much.” The woman stretched again till her body clicks like a pen. She rolled onto her back, crossed her legs so that the hems of her pink socks lined up, and closed her eyes.
Ophella reached for the stiff instructions manual and decided that the best time to give it a look through would be now as Shelani edged closer to sleep. At first, she found herself squinting at the translated side of the instructions as if doing so would suddenly bring back three years of high school French. In English the manual reads ‘Woolgatherer: Visual REM Sleep Aid.’ It went on to use words like ‘miraculous’ and ‘simply’ and all other words that would have made her believe her purchase was nothing more than a scam if she hadn’t seen it work before.
On a whim last Christmas she and some friends traveled several thousand miles west to the coast of California. Along the sand caked docks she alone had come across a small booth offering tarot card reading and dream interpretation. She, of course, chose the latter. A pruned Asian woman dressed in emerald sat her down and offered her hot water to help calm her nerves. She found it strange then, but perhaps she was nervous to hear what her dreams would reveal about her to the stranger.
The session only lasted ten or so minutes if you don’t count the extra six it took for Ophella to relax enough to allow the woman access to her thoughts. They exchanged a few words on why Ophella daydreamed herself as a spider or a rat before the results were made clear. She said-‘You are senselessly fearful. You long for nothing short of everything’. How she got that from Ophella’s eight-eyed persona is beyond her still.
She was not fearful. In fact, she could be quite brave when she decided to be. She could dance in public if the music was good, she could hold her own against strangers if it came down to it. In college, she could walk past three men on the street with her head upturned and not feel her stomach sink to her pelvic floor. In January the power had gone out in the middle of the night, yet she braved the darkness till dawn gave enough light for her to find the fuse box.
A short-lived snore then erupted from Shelani’s long frame. She always snored but never too loudly and never for too long. When they would spend their nights together like this Ophella would sometimes wait for the snoring of her friend before browsing the internet for trashy stories to read. When the snoring came along there was no sudden noise or microwave loud enough to wake Shelani up.
The button is lovingly placed on her forehead and sticks to the warm skin. It flashes blue as it silently connects itself to the woman’s innermost thoughts. Her thin lashes danced when Shelani’s eyes began to move behind the lid. Ophella wondered then if dreaming is more like looking at something behind your lids that no one else could see. The buttons light flashes green to indicate that now was the best time to peek into her friends subconscious.
At first, nothing could be seen but static and floating black and red specs and it looks like she’s dunked her head in a seasoned soup of some kind. Then the specs stretched and grabbed hold of one another until images start to tear through the nothingness and form a single picture. The dream itself was a small and somewhat distant thing at first. Gradually it expanded forcing shapes and bodies to come into focus. From where she sat she could now see what appeared to be Shelani brushing her hair in the mirror.
The image looked like Shelani enough, though some parts of her body were smeared outside the lines like a child’s drawing. Occasionally her face would transcend comprehension and blur into something else entirely. Her movements were fluid and lacked any real thought or effort it seemed. Shelani turned after a few more passes through her hair.
Ophella watched as the vanity in Shelani’s old room stirs itself into the walls around them. If she wasn’t gripping the short wool of the carpet she would easily mistake the world around her as unstable and changing. Now Shelani stood outside her workplace speaking to seemingly no one. Unfortunately, dreams could only be seen and not heard. Her lips moved like a mannequin’s in straight chattering motions. The dream faded into nothing again.
This repeated itself throughout the night. From the couch, Ophella watched Shelani dream herself out of her twenties and into the arms of pruned old women who looked like the dried figs they’d eat together during the summer. Sometimes the settings would change with every flick of Shelani’s pink tongue. One second they would be in the stockroom of a retail store, and in the next behind a pizzeria sharing oily pepperoni with ugly pigeons.
An hour or so later Ophella could feel the pressure of the headset start to pain her temples. Her fingers slipped beneath the elastic bands to rub comfort into her skin and eyes-it didn’t help much. She rocked herself on her heels hoping to keep awake long enough to see another dream. Four in the morning turned her eyelids to weighted windows. Time slipped from her minutes at a time.
A subtle champagne graced her eyes the next time they willed themselves open. This will be the last one before she sleeps she decided. In view, bare shoulders covered in golden dew rolled themselves in slow restricted circles. The world took on a satin finish filled with a grain and noise. One pair of shoulders became two. Ophella pinched each of her fingers.
One pair of shoulders became a twisting torso with raindrops bouncing off the breasts but not wetting the canopy bed they recline on. That hopeful feeling came back. Lightning flashed behind the headboard. One head dipped back leaving the bumps of a neck exposed. Lips parted. Two mix-matched hips ground into each other as if between them were grain to make flour. Wide shoulders push back displacing rain-soaked coiled hair. Ophella gorged herself on the similarities. Knees coaxed themselves apart as a hand slipped down her shorts.
It is noted how Shelani smiled when she liked something and how her eyes closed when the other woman sucked water off her thighs. It is noted how she whispered love with bent toes and blood milked fingers. It is noted that when the other woman lifted her head her face was nothing like Ophella’s. Not hers.
Disgusted by her entrancement, but already lost to the motions of her own actions, Ophella’s body curled into itself.
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Okay so I’m currently in a bit of a root of depression/insecurity/HELLA QUESTIONING MY SHIT right now, which all added together with the need of a job kind of fucks over the mental state to create stuff and get out of that funk. You just sorta. Binge? Lay there doing nothing, you aren’t super upset at that moment but you don’t feel anything, so you’re watching comedy skits or anime or something to bring yourself to a high point so that you can feel motivated to do anything.
But, while being in this shit hole where the majority of my brain turns to: Nobody supports you, you don’t know what you feel so how dare you even think the way you do/you’re fucking over other people you love/you have it so easy stfu
I decided, LETS TRY AND BE PRODUCTIVE (and vent sorta with the above) and so I’m gonna throw up a bunch of shit I like to do to try and help myself feel better (because I can be happy in a moment but it fades over time with the whole depression until you feel like a void)
So, down below is gonna be just some shit I do to make myself do stuff set into categories of:
Art/Drawing
Writing
and Chores
Key note, this works for me. It may not for others, but if it works for some people then I’m glad to provide a little relief.
If anyone else has other advice/resources add on to this post!!
ART/DRAWING
First thing I suggest is something I’ve been doing for ages before I even recognized I was doing it for my depression.
Find a super old piece of art you did, like two-three years ago, and then re-draw it. For slumps (especially long ones) where Depression just won’t let you think creatively, not having to overthink what you’re drawing is helpful. Having an old piece where the pose/the basic composition of the piece is already decided let’s you just work through everything faster, even if you change the pose slightly/what the character is doing. You know the scene, that’s the important bit.
Once done, look back at the old piece, then what you can do now. You may not be satisfied with where you are, but, you are almost guaranteed to be better than the older piece.
Second thing is memes. Whether it’s draw your character memes or faces or something, just. Draw them. All of them. It’s a good warm up, and it also let’s you go kind of zen and, again, not have to think creatively.
Third is get paper (physical paper) and pen, crayons, etc... any and all different mediums, and just. Scribble. Not being specific has a bit of freedom in it and lets you get out of a “What tf do I draw, it has to be perfect/anything i do is shit” mindset.
Fourth is similar to the last. If you have a medium you haven’t used in a long time (pen/paper, pencil/paper, colored pencils, marker, etc...) pick it up again. Usually making yourself work with something you aren’t used to/haven’t done in a long time lets you see the other skills you’ve progressed and feels good at the time, lets you move forward a bit easier.
Fifth, drink something hydrating. Water, tea, etc... just something that isn’t soda or energy drinks. This is more so just an “in general” statement, but I find I think more clearly when I’m drinking cold water.
WRITING
First thing I like to do is, similar to the first drawing is, read my old writing. Not re-write it, but just. Read it. Read it and pick out all my mistakes and laugh at my grammar or cringy I was. It helps me see where I flubbed out and where I can improve.
Second is pencil/paper write it out. Write out some of your story beats, how it works, etc... Hell, if you have a whiteboard thats even better! This way you can get a far away look at everything. (Also there’s just something to me about writing on paper?? Idk, it’s nice)
Third is eat/drink something. Yeah, same as the fifth one for drawing but this is!!! SUPER!!! IMPORTANT!!!!!! Sometimes you dont realize the reason your head is foggy/your “muse” or your mojo isn’t working is cuz “I haven’t eaten in like 9+ hours and holy shit is that the time?” So just. Get some water, get some fruit/peanuts/something small at your desk and snack while you write.
Fourth is turning all your text white in whatever document. This is more so if you just get stuck at a specific part for me, but it can work for this too. Turning your text white makes you have to ignore your mistakes / what you wrote prior and just keep moving forward, cuz you backspace once and who tf knows what’s going on.
CHORES
Chores are monotonous things that, when you have 0 energy and can’t see a point in doing anything, kind of get pushed to the side. Especially in comparison to the creative things (like writing/drawing) that get pushed to the side because “I can not do that” but!! Here’s a few things I do right before starting them to keep me going.
First thing is white noise.
No. Really. Just. Put something on in the background and have that playing while you drag your butt around the house. This won’t work all the time (like all of these won’t work all of the time) but I find it’s helpful.
Second, family help. So this one is, again, not for everybody and definitely not gonna work if you don’t have someone around who’s willing to take your phone/tablet/random device away from you, but. If you do. Ask your sibling/parent/friend to take your phone away from you after (x) amount of time (i usually say 20 minutes cuz that gets me through one YT episode) and then to take it and hide it (still playing, mind you) and hide it somewhere.
Not too hard, but def. somewhere I gotta go and search. Makes me get up, makes me have to go to whatever other room it is, and means I’m much more likely to keep moving.
Third is, honest to god, showering. Just. Do it?? I dunno what it is about showering, and I don’t care if it’s 9AM, Noon, or 11PM, take a shower. Showers can help you wake up or wind down and, generally, the water will ease you and make you relax more. Plus, as said with above, once you start moving, you keep going. Even if you don’t quite understand why.
Fourth is binging while you work. I usually carry my phone around with me, YT or a Podcast blasting in my pocket and just walk around and do my chores kind of numbly in these moods. It’s not the easiest and I do get 100% distracted/just don’t want to keep going. But it helps me, similarly to white noise.
Fifth, can anybody guess what this is?
That’s right. Drink/Eat stuff. AND AGAIN, make sure it isn’t just junk food or soda/carbonated drinks. Again, fruit, peanuts, just something?? Is better than nothing.
Anyway there are some of my things. Hope this helped some people?? As a final “THIS IS WHAT I LOOK AT” I’ll put down some pretty sappy/funny stuff I like to watch in this mood to give me more positive ... mess of something in my stomach while I work.
Lucahjin
Masaenala
Chuggaconroy
TheRunawayGuys
Ponder Sprocket
TheZodiacLord
TheOdd1sOut
Jaiden Animations
#depression#mental health#mental illness#thinking#out lou d....#and just?? if it can help others#then maybe it'd be worth it#long post tw#tw depression
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H is for Hegemonic
by Human_Gravy
Through the darkness of the waste system, the stench of stagnant water, and rotting trash, Minister Meisberger, my family’s spiritual leader and savior, led us to God’s Chamber.
Barb had vomited twice to the disdain and disgust of the Minister. My parents reprimanded her for lacking respect or control over her faculties. I’d vomited too but swallowed it to avoid punishment. Each time Barb vomited, Mom slapped her across the face and told her to get herself together. She had taken too much time away from our tight schedule.
God was returning to Earth. Only the most devout servants could enter God’s Chamber and being late would have surely penalized our chances at being allowed inside. Making the Minister late to such an earth-shattering event would earn us the ire of the Congregation. We could have been expulsed. I couldn’t begin to imagine what would have happened differently if Mom and Dad were kicked out of the Congregation. I feared for our safety. More for Barb’s than my own.
Our family was not originally from the city. We were forced to move when Dad’s job transferred him from a Midwestern town to their main headquarters. My parents had not wanted to come to the city. Mom and Dad were devout followers of Christ, their whole lives. Their social circles and spiritual well-being revolved around their church. Being pulled from this and thrust into a whole new environment was a death sentence to them.
Faced with no other choice, they rented a small apartment in the city and barely made an effort to decorate or make the place feel like a home. Dad swore it was temporary. After a year in his current position, he would request a transfer elsewhere. Far away from the city. Closer to like-minded folks.
To them, cities were havens for the godless secular and liberal thinking heathens. Those who supported rampant fornication of the youth by providing birth control and condoms. Those people who tolerated and accepted the abomination of men fornicating with men. Women with women. Those who would accept their diabolical lifestyles of debauchery. Illegal immigrants dealing drugs and seeking to rape and pillage. Prostitution. The makers of pornography. Modern-day Sodom. Gomorrah. You name it, the cities supplied these sins in spades. My parents were closed-minded bigots and I hated them for thinking like this.
Most importantly, they didn’t want Barb and I to fall into the temptation these places provided. They made it their mission to find the most traditional, hard-lined, and conservative place of worship the city could provide. Jumping from church to church, they could not find this place until Minister Meisberger approached them outside the steps of a church they’d attended. The Minister invited them to a special meeting at the community center promising to bring them the closest to God anyone on Earth could ever get them.
They attended several meetings with the Minister and joined Meisberger’s church with a renewed religious enthusiasm. Meisberger’s word became the law in our home and our lives.
Major changes were made in our household. All colored clothing was to be removed from the home. Only black clothes were allowed. Colored clothing was the uniform of the Unwashed. To stand out was sinful. Black was a reflection of the darkness in man’s soul.
Our televisions, computers, and electronic devices were sold off. These were used to spread misinformation, propaganda, and entice deadly sins by providing easy access to online shopping, gambling, and pornography.
Barb and I were pulled from school. These were the breeding grounds to spread the agenda of the Unwashed. Other children living in sin would influence us to sin with them. Our teachers would instruct on blasphemies and profanities spread under the name of science. Our education was now in the hands of our parents who taught us from a curriculum approved and created by Meisberger based upon his religious teachings.
As you can imagine, Barb and I were not thrilled with the major changes in our lives. I refused to give up my television and Xbox. My tablet and computer. Everything I owed providing me with happiness, entertainment, or social interaction was taken. The only form of entertainment we were allowed was a copy of Meisberger’s Bible. Otherwise, my parents were to lecture us on it. My protest over the loss of my stuff was met with a firm slap across the face from my father, a man who had never raised his hand to me before in his life.
It didn’t hurt so much as surprised, shocked, and embarrassed me. It stung not only on the physical level. It hurt my soul. The man who I respected and loved become a man I feared and loathed overnight.
Barb had the much rougher time getting accustomed to our new life-style. She missed her friends and often snuck out of the house to visit with them. She would return with contraband books and an iPod Nano she could hide easily. Mom and Dad would be asleep when she left and when she returned. Her nightly excursions went without issue for a while until she pushed her luck too much and was caught.
Barb came home to find herself face to face with my mother who’d been having a glass of water. Mom woke Dad and the first of many explosive arguments began. It awoke me from my sleep and I crawled out of bed to see what was happening. Barb roared at them, calling them religious zealots, and told them Meisberger was ruining our lives.
At the mention of Meisberger’s name, Dad reeled his hand back and smacked Barb across the mouth harder than he had hit me. Barb fell backwards across the kitchen and hit the tiles with a thud. She held the side of her face. Her eyes were wide, and jaw dropped in shock. I could relate to the feeling. Without another word, Barb charged into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.
Her blasphemous items were discovered when Mom went through her room during a time she had snuck out of the house. She hadn’t come home for days and my parents were furious with her. The day she returned, Barb was obviously under the influence of alcohol and raged against my parent’s mistreatment once more. This time Mom dealt the punishment. She rained down blows upon her head with opened hands and closed fists alike. Barb curled up into a ball as the hits came. Barb threatened to go to the police. This is where my father truly lost his mind.
To invite a contrarian authority to the Congregation into a man’s home and business was a major sin. The Man was the leader of the home and the only one allowed to interact with the outside world. God created Man to rule the home and lead the family. Man was strong, resilient, and the disciplinarian. Woman was to bare as many children to Man as possible, raise those children, and maintain the household.
Mom reacted to Barb’s threat by really hurting her. Mom kicked at her. Barb instinctively reached out and pushed our mother into the wall. She then made an attempt to escape. Dad caught her before she could reach the stairway. Barb howled and screamed for help. Some neighbors came out of their apartments to see what was happening. They were Hispanic or some other type of non-English speakers. Dad told them she was trying to run away, and it was good enough an excuse for them to let it go. It was a family spat. This was nothing new in a big city. A person screaming, yelling, and carrying on like a crazy person was par the course.
Dad dragged Barb by the hair back into the apartment. He tossed her through her bedroom door and closed it behind him. He called out for me to get his toolbox and I complied not wanting to incur my parent’s wrath. Dad installed a lock on the outside of her door and trapped her inside.
Barb was a prisoner in her bedroom. Mom gave her a bucket to pass her excrement and urine. She was fed twice a day and given a bottle of water to sustain herself. When she began screaming, Dad put his foot down. He grabbed my arm, shuffled me to Barb’s bedroom, and told her if she didn’t calm down, her punishments would now be inflicted upon me.
To prove his point, Dad twisted my arm until I was begging him to release me. Barb’s reply was nothing short of a disaster.
FUCK YOU!, she seethed through her teeth and flung a plate of food at my father’s face. She hit him in the mouth. The plate crashed to the floor shattering and sending food everywhere. I only caught a glimpse of Dad’s face and ran for cover.
He burst into the bedroom door and slammed it behind him shaking the apartment. It didn’t drown out the sound of his slaps and punches hitting flesh. The louder Barb cried out, the harder the beatings got until she went silent. Mom entered the room and escorted Dad out. There was blood on his knuckles and on his face. Barb was laid out across her bed. Her nose was bleeding. Her face was red and welted. Her lips were puffed, cracked, and bloodied. She wept, sobbing silently.
Everything settled after. Barb, fearing her punishments would be dealt upon the both of us, went along with her chores, Mom’s spiritual lectures, and prayers. She shambled expressionless through it, dead inside, and resigned to her fate.
She confined herself in her room preferring the isolation. I did the same. Our house was quiet all the time now. While Dad was at work, Mom focused on her religious studies and teaching us our lessons. It was the most miserable experience in my life and I was too afraid to stand up for Barb and I. Dad’s anger and fury was not something I wanted to experience.
Two weeks after the blow up, my parents told us we would be moving to join the rest of the Congregation. Barb tried to hide her reaction to the announcement. Tears and the defeated look on her face couldn’t hide her feelings. Within the week, Meisberger came to our home and my parents handed him over a check for their life savings.
My parents donated all their money to the Congregation. He shook Dad’s hand and nodded his approval to my mother. There was no male/female touching allowed. He thanked them for their tithe and promised their donations would reserve a place for our family at their Congregation’s living quarters and a seat at the right side of God’s dinner table in the Grand Kingdom of Heaven for the Feast of One Thousand Souls. Bidding them farewell, he told us to await his phone call while preparations were made.
One more week passed before the call came. God had blessed Meisberger with a vision of the Congregation entering God’s Chamber. We were told to dress in our best clothes and meet with him at an address one hour before midnight. My parents were giddy with excitement and expected us to join in their celebration. Barb plastered a fake smile across her face and excused herself to the bathroom. All her “joy” overwhelmed her.
We had a traditional meal of white rice, baked potatoes, and grilled chicken. Bland food to not entice us into gluttony. Before the meal had finished, Dad handed Barb a pill and demanded she swallow it. He said the Minister ordered it.
She couldn’t hide the quivering lips and shaking hands. Thick, watery tears slipped down the sides of her cheeks. She shook her head and begged our father for mercy. He gave her a look. It simultaneously terrified her and subdued her into obedience. Barb swallowed the pill. Mom forced her to open her mouth and show her she’d swallowed it.
An hour later, Barb was out of it. She slurred her words and had issues with knowing what was happening. Mom told her it was normal and not to worry. Barb fell asleep in her chair and Dad said it was time to leave. He hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her out of the apartment. Her limbs dangled over his shoulder limply. She looked dead except for the uncomfortable twitching of her face. We got on the elevator and went down to the parking garage.
Following the Minister’s direction, we drove out of town to the meeting location in the suburbs. Barb was muttering in the backseat half conscious. Police, cult, and scared were the only words I could make out. Fearing for her safety (and mine) I asked my parents to explain the passages of the Oscuro Perpetua. Dad told me about the Second Coming of Christ and the events of the Book of Revelations. The wicked would be punished with the Second Death and continued onward explaining. I wasn’t paying attention. I was consumed with thoughts of escape attempts. Flagging down strangers for help. An hour before midnight, there weren’t many cars where we were heading. In the city, there had been escape chances earlier at stop lights with people right outside the car doors. I couldn’t bring myself to abandon Barb. She still wasn’t in her right mind.
Upon arriving at our destination, Dad parked the car in the lot of what used to be a supermarket. Across the street stood a dilapidated, crumbling building. All the windows were broken, and glass littered the pavement. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years.
I asked my parents if this is where we were going to be living now. They confirmed my suspicion as we stepped out of the car. Walking Barb with an arm around my shoulder, she was able to stand on her feet with some support. I wanted to protest going into the building. It seemed unsafe and scared me to go inside. I feared it would collapse on us.
Mom said the Minister purchased the abandoned building from the city. It was to be renovated and made into the headquarters and living area for the Congregation. We were to be officially welcomed into the Congregation. Most importantly, to witness God’s return to Earth. We walked into the dark courtyard and the features of the building became clearer. The square windows were broken and boarded up with plywood. The remains of two metallic chimneys leaned against the wall where they hung by a few pegs. Overall the place was the horrid dump unfit for human habitation. And this was to become my new home.
At the front door, my father knocked twice and then another six times. The screeching locks filled the empty silence of the night like a screaming baby. We were the only souls around for miles. No buzzing of the city life. No cars. No people. Nothing. My senses were going into overdrive as each little sound was danger coming for us.
Meisberger greeted us. He wore a priest’s black clergy shirt with a black collar instead of the traditional white along with the black jacket. He apologized for taking long to open the doors. It was old and needed lubrication. I felt relieved when I saw people standing in the room behind Meisberger in all black. The men stood at one side of the room. The women on the other. Among them were children and teenagers. Their faces were lost to me with so many staring back.
“Before we begin our journey to God’s Chamber, I would like to propose a toast,” Meisberger said. If it seemed like a request from the Minister, it was a direct order. A young woman carried a tray of wine to us.
“I thought alcohol was bad?” Barb slurred recovering from the pill.
“Blessed with my hand, this is not alcohol to consume for pleasure. This is communion. The blood of our God,” Meisberger responded agitated with Barb’s questioning. Dad hissed at Barb and raised his hand to hit her. Meisberger placed a hand on Dad’s shoulder and it subdued his anger.
“Tonight is not the night for violence. Young lady, please don’t take advantage of my kindness,” Meisberger said. “Now if you’ll follow me, the uninitiated must travel a different path. I must guide you through to the other side as your spiritual leader and the Emissary of God Upon the Earth,” the Minister said guiding us away from the building. We followed Meisberger across the courtyard and to the side of the building. We reached a line of trees and walked into the woods until we got to our destination, the opening of a large sewer pipe.
This is how we ended up in the sewers and on our way to God’s Chamber.
After Barb vomited twice, we quickened our pace until we reached an intersection of tunnels. Meisberger turned to the left. Thirteen lit candles on each side of the tunnel marked the doorway.
God’s Chamber, Meisberger said aloud and crossed himself. His voice resonated against the walls. “The Twenty-Six Flames represent the tenets of our faith. These are the guiding lights in this savage world of darkness and depravity. So long as the warmth of their light touches you, your soul shall remain pure and worthy of God’s attention and love.”
“Praise God!” my parents cried out in unison. Barb squeezed my hand hard.
“God’s light is touching you,” Meisberger stated. Barb giggled and let out a bellyful of laugher. Hearing it was startling. It felt foreign. She hadn’t laughed or smiled in a long time. It didn’t make sense, especially not then.
“God isn’t real. You are a liar!” Barb shouted
“Trust in me for I am the Prophet, the voice of God on this Earth, savior of the Wise Unwashed. Faith in I is faith in God. Rectification 4:8 – Argento the Pontificator,” The Minister quoted.
Barb released my hand and ran. She disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel. Dad gave chase. The sound of her footsteps splashing in the water sounded further and further away. The second set of splashing followed in a hurry, much faster than Barb’s.
Dad dragged Barb back to us. He forced her to her knees in front of the Minister. Dad held her while Meisberger shook his head in disappointment.
“I’m so sorry, my Prophet,” Mom apologized to the Minister. Dad frowned at my mother. Being the one in charge of the children and their spiritual evolution, Barb’s behavior reflected badly upon her and therefore my father’s house was out of order. The last thing they wanted was for Meisberger to see Barb rebelling against their authority and his. Dad tried to stand her up. Barb remained prone in the watery sewer muck and cried. Mom and Dad shouted at Barb to stand. She defiantly told them to go to Hell and spit at the Minister.
Meisberger raised a finger to them for silence. Mom and Dad immediately quieted.
“Your faith is weak, Barbra. Trust in God. Trust in me. Or the Darkness will claim you for its whore! I will not allow this!” Meisberger said.
His hand wound back and whacked her across the face. The sound reverberated through the tunnel and echoed far away. Barb let out a cry. Dad and Meisberger raised her to her knees.
“That’s right! I’m a fucking whore! I want all the darkness in the world inside me like a huge cock! I’m a harlot! A dirty fucking cunt!” Barb shrieked. I stood there aghast. I’d never heard her speak this way. It sounded like a wholly different person using my sister’s lips and tongue to speak such foul language.
“I’m so ashamed,” Mom said covering her embarrassment with her hands.
“Do not worry, Linda. We shall save your daughter’s soul whether she likes it or not,” Meisberger said. He went to the door and knocked on it. Two times and then another six. The door opened and light filled the tunnel. It hurt my eyes. Meisberger called out, “I need four men.”
Four men came into the sewer and saw Barb in the muck. Without a word, they went to her and picked her up from the ground despite her protests. She kicked, swung her arms, and squirmed. She called out for help and I couldn’t do anything. What could I do against four men, my parents, and the Minister? Their eyes bore into me. Daring me to attempt to help my sister. Like the coward I was, I averted my eyes from what was happening and let it continue.
The four men dragged my sister into God’s Chamber. The Minister and my parents followed. They left me alone in the tunnel. The sole person left whose loyalty and faith was left in question. It was a test. It had to be. They wanted to see if I would run away. They knew I wouldn’t. I loved my sister too much to leave her to suffer their insults and punishments alone.
Entering into God’s Chamber, the smell of disgusting sewer trash was replaced with the smell of burning wood and incense. Warmth enveloped me sending chills all over my body. It felt heavenly. Fire pits burned across the chamber. Worshipers stood at the sides of the fires with their Bibles in hand praying.
“Welcome to God’s Chamber,” Meisberger announced at the front of the room. “And a very special welcome to our latest arrivals, the Dayton family.”
The Congregation responded with murmurs of welcome.
“We are gathered here in the presence of God, the Prophet, and the Wise Unwashed to baptize the Dayton family into our church,” Meisberger said.
“Let me go!” Barb pleaded. The Minister turned to one of the men who had dragged Barb into the chamber and nodded to him. The man backhanded her across the mouth. She yelped and went silent once more. Mom and Dad stood front and center at Meisberger’s podium. Complying with the request, I joined my parents. Mom took my hand into hers and squeezed. I didn’t want to hold her hand. I wanted nothing to do with them.
In front of the podium, there was a large coffin resembling an Egyptian sarcophagus. Or at least what I imagined one would look like. The side of it was ornately carved with two angels holding the world on their shoulders. The top was carved into the shape of a man with his arms crossed. An aura emanated around his features.
“Drew Dayton, Linda Dayton, Barbra Dayton, and Raymond Dayton, step forward and accept the glory, the power, and the enlightenment of God”, Meisberger commanded.
Dad stepped foward and dropped to his knees. Mom followed and pulled me down with her. Barb was dragged next to me and forced down. My heart broke for her. Meisberger stepped down from his podium and went to my father first.
“Drew Dayton, do you give yourself and your family to the Prophet and God until the day of your death and beyond?”
“I, Drew Dayton, give myself and my family to the Prophet and God until the day of my death and beyond,” Dad answered.
One of the worshipers handed The Minister a bottle of wine. He uncorked it and poured the wine over my father’s head.
“Will you accept the Blood bond between Man and God?” Meisberger asked.
“I am one with God,” Dad replied.
The Minister tipped the bottle into my father’s mouth and he drank. Meiseberger moved to my mother next and performed the same ritual then came to me next.
“Raymond Dayton, do you give yourself to the Prophet and God until the day of your death?” Meisberger asked.
With no other choice available to me, I replied, “I, Raymond Dayton, give myself over to the Prophet and God until the day of my death,” following in line with my father and mother. Meisberger poured the wine over my head. It gave me chills despite its warmth. He lifted my head and poured wine into my mouth. It tasted sour and spoiled along with something else with a muted metallic aftertaste. Meisberger then reached out and grabbed my hand. He lifted me to my feet and held my hand in his.
“The blood of the Prophet and God run through your veins now!” Meisberger yelled throwing both our hands into the air. The Congregation clapped and cheered furiously. Mom and Dad looked pleased with themselves. I hated everyone around me.
Barb looked like she was going to be sick to her stomach again. Meisberger noticed her and his expression changed. His eyes went cold against the warmth he’d shown only a moment before. He raised his fist into the air and the chamber went silent. All eyes returned to him once more.
“Barbra,” the Minister called filling the chamber with the boom of his voice. “It is time to choose. Would you like to join our family? Do you want to walk in God’s warming light? For the sake of your eternal soul, I do hope you reconsider your position,” Meisberger asked.
It was at that moment, Barb looked away from the Minister and turned to me. She didn’t ask aloud. She didn’t need to. Her eyes said it all. They begged for an answer. All eyes turned to me then and I realized I had no other choice. I went to my sister, placed a hand upon her shoulder, and told her to join our family. She burst into tears and mumbled something among the sobs which I couldn’t understand.
Meisberger came forward and placed his finger under her chin lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.
“Barbra Dayton, before entering this holy chamber, you confessed your desire to fornicate with the darkness and the Unwashed. By your own admission, you wished to be a whore to the Unwashed and those who walk in the darkness. Do you deny those claims now? Do you choose to walk in the warmth of God’s light?”
“Yes…,” Barb whimpered.
“Barbra Dayton, do you give yourself over to the Prophet and God until the day of your death and beyond?”
“Yes…,” she whimpered again. He poured the remaining wine from the bottle over her head and then placed the lip of the bottle against hers. Barb took the wine into her mouth and spit it out. It sprayed across the Minister’s face and clothing.
The Congregation gasped collectively.
“You sick fuck! This is blood!” Barbra shouted at Meisberger. A chill went through me. Meisberger did not react to being spit on. He continued like nothing happened.
“Dayton family, God has blessed you with his blood as he has blessed the rest of our Congregation. God gives his blessings and demands faith, prayer, and sacrifice in return. Kneel before God and reciprocate his merciful gesture,” Meisberger said.
Mom and Dad went to the sarcophagus. I followed their lead and kneeled next to them. Barb stayed in place. Meisberger nodded once more to the group of men who came forward to force her to join us.
“Get the fuck off me!” Barb shouted while pushed forward. The Minister stood patiently in front of the sarcophagus. Once Barb was in her rightful place, two men held her. Meisberger gave them a head nod thanking them. In his hand, the Minister held an elaborate jewel encrusted dagger stained with blood. My heart pounded in my chest.
“Drew Dayton, God demands tribute. Serve him as you have sworn,” Meisberger said. He dragged the dagger across his own hand and grimaced. He placed his hand over the mouth of the figure carved on the sarcophagus and dripped blood into it.
Following the Minister’s actions, Dad swiped the dagger across his palm and fed the sarcophagus. Mom followed next. She let out a cry as she cut her hand open and gave her blood to God. When Mom passed the dagger to me, I felt as if I would lose my nerve. I didn’t know if I could play along with the façade of those religious zealots. My hands trembled at the sight of the blood on the dagger. The handle was slippery with it.
“Raymond, pay God his respect,” Meisberger urged. His serious, lizard-like face watched my hand intently. With a weapon, I realized I had an opportunity to end this charade and show the Congregation this was no Prophet or Emissary of God. I’d be killed afterward or worse. I wondered if it would be worth it or not and came to the conclusion it would not. Meisberger may survive the stabbing and it would all be for nothing. Barb would suffer still. It would all be meaningless.
I swallowed hard, clenched my jaw, and sliced my palm. I approached the burial tomb and placed my hand over the mouth like Mom and Dad had done. Blood spilled inside. Meisberger came and pressed my hand to cover the mouth portion.
Something inside the sarcophagus touched me. I cried out trying to pull my hand away. Meisberger held it in place. Whatever laid inside, lapped up the blood from the wound with a slippery cold tongue. It swept over the length of my palm sucking at the blood with a grotesque slurp. These were the longest seconds of my life. Meisberger released my hand and pointed for me to return to my family.
“God works in mysterious ways. Ways the Unwashed shall never understand. We, the Faithful, worship a powerful God. A true God. A God of action and love who does not allow for suffering of his flock. Place your faith in God for all things are possible through him and him alone,” Meisberger said.
He lifted his hand to the Congregation and showed his palm. The wound had vanished. I looked at my own and saw the unbelievable. My wound was gone too. The Congregation gasped once more this time in delight. I looked to Barb to see her astonishment matched my own.
“Barbra Dayton,” Meisberger called out. “God has chosen you for Salvation. You reject his selection. Reject your father’s authority. Your mother’s guidance. Commit blasphemy in the presence of God and the Prophet, and resist our efforts to bring you to the light and warmth of God’s eternal glory.”
The astonishment on Barb’s face vanished. In its place fear took hold. She trembled and tried to stand. The men continued to hold her down. She squirmed and received another backhand to the chin for her troubles. It dazed her. I could tell she was seeing stars.
“Perhaps this is why God favors you among us the most. You need God’s love most of all. God has commanded me to bring you closer to his being,” Meisberger announced. He waved a hand to the sarcophagus and the men dragged Barbra forward. She screamed and kicked with the last of her remaining might and spirit. My sister fought and fought. Something I was too cowardly to do myself. I wished I could have fought them too.
“Honey, don’t resist. God chose you!” Mom encouraged. Dad held Mom in his arms. Tears of happiness streamed down both their faces.
A set of older women approached the men who held Barb. They yanked and pulled at her clothes. I closed my eyes and covered my ears. It didn’t help drown out the screams and the tearing fabric of her clothing. The crowd surrounding her finished their task easily. She stood before the Congregation naked and pale. I couldn’t stand to look at her.
Four of the men had peeled off from the group. They went to the sarcophagus and together moved the heavy stone lid to the side. The smell of ancient rot wafted out of the opened tomb. It was like a dead animal left out in the heat. It overpowered the smell of the burning wood and incense. My eyes watered. I gagged.
Those holding Barb guided her to the sarcophagus. Barb fought them. Where she found the energy, I’ll never know. Amidst her screams, cries, and sobs, she pleaded for me to help her. When she finally reached the sarcophagus and looked inside, the panic in Barb’s eyes burned into my memories. Something broke inside her. The panicked frenzy of her struggle ceased. A far-gone look filled her eyes. Whatever she had seen had forced her to surrender to her fate.
Meisberger dismissed the men from Barb with a wave of his hand. They released my sister. She stood stupefied at the mouth of the sarcophagus staring down into it.
“And we commit Barbra Dayton’s body and soul to God for peace everlasting,” Meisberger said. He scooped my sister into his arms like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. A set of withered old hands reached out from inside the sarcophagus to meet the descending Barb. The Minister set her down into those ancient arms and followed them until they were inside the sarcophagus together. With another wave of his hand, the four men returned to slide the lid back into its rightful place. God’s Chamber fell into silence once more. The Congregation bowed their heads in prayer.
I expected Barb to scream. To cry out. To give one last shout or sign of distress. There was nothing but the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
It was the last time I ever saw my sister.
Five weeks passed after our inauguration into the Congregation. Every morning started prayer. After breakfast, Meisberger presented us with a lecture on his Bible and then everyone went to the front of the room and slit their palm with a blade. The blood was collected into wine bottles as their sacrifice to God. These wounds did not heal. These were painful and prone to infections. This was common among the Congregation. The wounds would only heal when we went into God’s Chamber to directly deposit our blood into God’s mouth.
Dad quit his job in the city, broke the lease on our old apartment, and moved the few precious belongings Meisberger allowed us to have into the old distillery. Mom was pregnant. I had a new brother or sister on the way. We wouldn’t know anything until the baby was born. Even for emergencies, women were not allowed to see doctors. I hoped the baby would be born healthy, but I didn’t care if Mom lived or died afterward. Same with Dad. I hadn’t spoken to them since the night they abandoned their daughter to be sacrificed to whatever was inside the sarcophagus.
Living among the Congregation, worship in God’s Chamber was rare. In five weeks, we had only gone there three times to directly give blood. The Congregation was able to access the chamber through a door in the basement. This also provided access to the door leading to the sewer tunnels and the outside world. It was only a matter of gathering the courage and waiting for my chance to escape.
Five weeks after losing Barb, I gathered the courage to leave and made my move when I was sure it was the right time. Waiting until it was early in the morning, I got out of bed and crept through the men’s living quarters in the dark. I couldn’t risk lighting my candle yet. Once outside the room, at a snail’s pace to ensure no one could hear my footsteps, I went through the distillery until I reached the basement door. Once in the basement, I lit the candle. A knot twisted in my stomach with the memories of Meisberger’s words coming back to me.
”So long as the warmth of their light touches you, your soul shall remain pure and worthy of God’s attention and love.”
It was only a matter of getting into God’s Chamber again and sewer tunnel door. With no one around and the expectation of being alone, I rushed through the basement and opened the door to the chamber.
With the firepits extinguished and no incense burning, the smell in God’s Chamber was more potent than ever. The sarcophagus sat in the shadow of Meisberger’s podium. In the days leading up to my escape, I resolved to not bother with it. Escaping the Congregation was the goal. All else was unnecessary. Yet, I still found myself standing in front of it. There was no one to stop me from doing what I had dismissed as unnecessary and only dreamed of for the sake of revenge. I didn’t think the opportunity would present itself. I thought I’d be sprinting at full speed out of the chamber and into the sewers with chasing close behind.
The mouth of the figure on the sarcophagus was wide enough to fit the candle. The choice now was to either navigate the tunnels with no light source and get my revenge or focus on my best chance at escaping. My mind was racing, weighing the pros and cons, time was slipping by with more and more chances of getting discovered out of bed. What kept popping into my head was thinking about how much of a coward I had been during the time Barb needed me the most.
Leaving without destroying it was nothing short of cowardice once again on my part. I vowed since my sister’s death not to be cowed or intimidated. I wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.
Searching the extinguished fire pits, I saw exactly what I needed among the charred remains. A long, thin strip of wood sat at the side of one of the pits which hadn’t been used. It would serve me well for a torch.
Using the candle on the piece of wood, it took a few seconds of direct application for it to catch. From there it was only a matter of doing what needed to be done. I went to the sarcophagus and placed the burning candle over the mouth where unimaginable amounts of blood had fed whatever lived inside. As I was about to release it, a voice called out from inside. It was Barb’s.
Please, Ray, don’t do this! I’m still alive!
I couldn’t believe my ears at the sound of Barb’s voice. Hope filled my heart for only an instant before I realized I truly couldn’t believe my ears. Whatever rested inside the sarcophagus did yield power. It demonstrated it to me when it took Barb. Whether or not it was a God, the God, or something else entirely, I didn’t care. It took my sister from me. It had tried to use my memory of her to ward off its impending doom.
“Goodbye, Barb,” I said and dropped the candle into the mouth hole.
The sarcophagus burst into flames. The creature inside howled in agony. I can still hear it in my mind and its suffering brings me delight. I couldn’t stick around to enjoy it. I ran to the tunnel door and into the sewers. Navigating them was confusing. Each twist and turn led to another dead end. The torch was nearly at its end. Its heat was uncomfortable and burning my fingers. It ran out just as I found my way to the exit.
I ran out into the morning light. Not knowing where I was or where to go, I ran further into the woods with the hopes of the trees covering my escape. I hadn’t heard anyone coming in the tunnels and I hadn’t seen anyone outside either. I was alone.
The woods weren’t as dense or large as I had imagined. Running through them for a few minutes, I came out to a busy road. Cars were passing by. Shops were open. People were leaving their apartments. They wore colors other than black. It felt surreal. I thought I was dreaming.
With a renewed vigor, I sprinted down the street to a Dunkin Donuts. The strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee sent my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I charged past the people waiting in line at the register and asked them if I could use their phone to call the police.
The police came to the Dunkin’ Donuts and took me down to the station. I told them everything about Minister Meisberger, my parents, and the Congregation’s living area a few blocks away.
Hours later, police cars swarmed the distillery and discovered the Congregation fled. The officers at the scene said the building smelled like smoke and charred flesh. No one was inside. It appeared as if everyone had dropped what they had been doing and ran.
A BOLO was put out on a group of people dressed in all black traveling with small children. It became unnecessary once the police discovered the sewer system beneath the distillery connected and branched off to a bunch of different places. It would take time to send officers to check each location. It was already too late. The Congregation had escaped capture.
The remnants of the burned sarcophagus puzzled everyone. When asked to explain it, I told them the Congregation believed God had been inside of it. I was forced to worship it and give it blood. With the search for Meisberger and the Congregation underway, I went into witness protection. It was fine with me. I had no where to go. No parents. No sister. Nothing of a life to put back together. The Congregation had taken everything from me except the chance to start over.
It’s been almost eight years since those events and I’ve relocated to California. Thousands of miles away from anyone I’ve ever known. I started a new life here. I finished high school, graduated from college, and I’m working on a master’s in psychology. I currently volunteer to help children and adults who’ve survived ritualistic abuse, mind control, and endured torture at the hands of the people they trusted the most. This type of trauma stays with you the rest of your life. It helps to connect with others who understand and can lend an ear.
The police still haven’t found the Congregation. Every place they checked was empty. No one had ever seen them again. Good riddance.
My dream would be to see Meisberger and everyone in the Congregation caught, tried in court, and sent to prison. The knowledge of their activities being exposed to the world would suffice for me. To know they couldn’t hurt anyone else would bring peace to my soul and a sense of closure would help me move on from the terrifying ordeal.
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