#i would kill to be disgustingly creepy but not this way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dirtywrestling · 2 months

Text

Vampire Cult - Damien Priest Ft. Roman Reigns (18+)

Commission: @thesimonkshow

Pairing: Vampire!Damian Priest x Vampire!Simon x Vampire!Roman Reigns

Summary: After fully transitioning into a vampire Damian introduces Simon to the head vampire.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Oral, Virgin Sacrifice, Minors DNI

Word Count: 6,468

Follow My Backup Blog!: @dirtywresling102

At first I hated Damian for what he turned me into. Turning me into a vampire without my permission. As realization hit me, I broke down knowing everyone around me would grow old and die while I still live and be forever young. I had no idea how I was going to explain this to my parents but I’ll get to that bridge when I cross it.

Being so upset toward Damian I ran, I didn’t even speak with Vince about a vacation, I just took it. I had no plans on coming back to wrestling life. I wanted to be alone and hope that this was all a bad dream. Months later, Damian found me in a cabin deep in the woods, living off of animal blood. But that was even rare to get because I felt bad for killing the sweet creatures, but I had to survive.

I knew why Damian was there at the cabin, he wanted to help me. I didn’t want or need his help, even though I was putting myself through starvation because I didn’t want to hurt innocent people or creatures.

“Then how about we hunt the non innocent people?”

That’s what got me to agree to go with him.

I didn’t know what was worse, the tranissioning or drinking blood. Murdering the people that deserved it wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be, especially drinking their sweet blood.

The cold night air hit my face as I stood across the street, leaning against a brick wall in a dark alleyway. I watched as a woman was being stalked by some creepy guy. Poor girl was on the bad side of town and it was pretty late. My eyes never left her as she started to pick up the pace, her heels clicking loudly against the sidewalk. “Come back here, pretty lady!” The man slurred, his steps increasing, still on her tail.

“I said leave me alone!” She barked back, trying to be strong for herself. My eyes darken as I heard her heart pumping a mile a minute. Her breathing was shaky and heavy at the same time. She was scared and out of breath, the poor woman was basically running in those uncomfortable shoes. I of course wasn’t going to let this fuck hurt her. My black jeans hugged me tight as I started to move. Leaving the dark alley but made sure to stick in the shadows as I walked on the opposite side of the street. My leather jacket over my shoulders, hands shoved into the pockets.

Looking at the helpless woman across the street in the corner of my eye, she took a quick left turn. Mistake. It was a dead end. I watched as the drunken man stumbled into the same dark deadend. Show time. “Finally, I have you.” The man chuckled. “Oh you’re going to feel so good on me.” The man disgustingly grabbed his dick through his pants.

“And you’re going to taste so good to me.” I mumbled to myself as I picked up his words. Crossing the street I was standing tall behind the man.

“Please leave me alone!” The woman begged once seeing me.

“Huh?” The man turned around, startled by my appearance behind him. “Hey! Beat it.” He snarled. “I saw her first, she’s mine.”

“Go.” I told the woman. She was frozen in place. “Leave!” I said louder, my voice echoing off the walls. The woman sobbed, trying her best to get out of the alley way as quickly as possible in her heels and clutching onto her purse.

“What’s the big idea, man.” The drunk’s nose was red, his face flushed. I grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it. “A- Ah!” I heard his collar bone snap. “Please- stop!” Tears spilled down his cheeks. Using my speed I pinned him up against the brick wall, slamming his head hard that he blacked out. Thank goodness too, I didn’t want to hear him squealing, it was so unpleasant hearing them cry while trying to feed.

Opening my mouth, my fangs extend outwards. Leaning forward I sank my teeth deeply into the man’s neck, suckling his thick blood. “Must you always get the intoxicated ones?” I heard a voice say. Getting one last gulp in, I ripped my fangs out, blood squirted into the air while it was also pooling around my lips, smirking showing my red stained teeth.

“But they taste bitter sweet and I at least get a little buzzed.” I pouted to Damian who was at the entrance of the alley, leaning against the brick wall. I turned my back onto Damian once more, sinking my teeth into the blacked out drunk’s neck. I shut my eyes, moaning as his blood hit my tongue.

“Don’t you think that’s enough, Simon?” Damian asked.

Ignoring him I kept sucking away. Hearing Damian’s footsteps against the loose gravel, he grabbed onto my shoulder and pulled me off. Before he could push me off the man I gripped the man’s jaw and gave it a hard twist. His neck snapping from my forcefulness, his lifeless body slugging to the ground. “Happy?” I snarled, wiping the blood off with my leather jacket.

“No, I’m not happy.” Damian huffed. “You’re out of control. You’re leaving bodies all around the city.”

“Cities.” I corrected him. “Nobody is going to find out it’s us, we’re wrestlers on the road, different cities every night, different assholes I’m drinking out of.”

“And killing afterwards.” Damian pointed out. “When I said to go after the non innocent I meant also, drink their blood and put some fear into them so they would rethink their life, giving them a second chance.”

“Hmm.” I pretended to think about it. “I like killing them afterwards, no need for them anyways. Plus, they’re just going to go back to their old ways and try to harass women, beat their children and kill others. I’m like Dexter Morgan.” I teased.

“Your life isn’t a TV show, Simon!” Damian huffed as I walked out of the alley. “And he didn’t eat people!” He added.

“Then call me Hannibal Lecter.” I corrected myself over my shoulder, smirking. I licked my teeth, getting the extra blood. I stopped as Damian was all of a sudden in front of me.

“You’re doing this sloppy. All of it. I turned you into a vampire-”

“Which I didn’t ask for.” I rudely snapped at him.

“But you’re loving it, aren’t you?” His eyebrow twitched in amusement as I didn’t say anything or argue. Being a vampire truly did have its perks. Being immortal, never getting into trouble, super human strength and speed. I felt ten times confident as ever and comfortable in my own body for the first time before I hit puberty. It also helped with my mental state of mind, first becoming a wrestler with depression was slowly slipping in, being away from my family and friends was doing damage to me.

I turned my head, looking away from Damian knowing he was right. “Whatever.” I grumbled.

“Don’t make me have to punish you.” Damian warned. “Watch your attitude or you won’t be coming in weeks.”

I blushed, hiding it from Damian. After Damian found me in the cabin and fed me,l we had passionate sex. He whispered how much he missed me and promised me to never run away again. After the hot passionate sex he did punish me for running away and treating my new vampire body poorly. He gave me one-hundred spankings, fed me his come and didn’t let me come for weeks on end until I proved to him I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry sir.” I showed off my best pouty face so he would forgive me easily.

“It’s okay.” Damian ran his fingers through his long dark locks, falling for the puppy dog eyes I gave him. “Now. I want you to meet someone and I want you to be on your best behavior.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, this sounded important. “Okay.” I started to walk by his side.

“No, no ‘okay’.” Damian huffed. “I mean it, Simon you better be on your best behavior.”

“Okay, fine! I will.” I promised. Damian was really freaking out about whoever we were going to see and it had me worried a little.

“Don’t you think you should’ve dressed a little more proper? I told you business casual” Damian huffed, straightening his black tie around his neck. I followed, dark jeans, a v-neck shirt and a leather jacket. After becoming immortal my taste of fashion became more ‘edgier’ and dark.

I shrugged, following behind him to the front of the door. “Last time I let you pick anything during something so important.” Damian mumbled under his breath. Even with my super hearing I chose to ignore the comment. Damian raised his fist, knocking loudly against the wooden oak door.

“There’s a doorbell.” I pointed out.

“Must I bend you over my knee after this?” Damian sneered lowly, not liking my sassiness.

I bit my lip, keeping my snickering to a minimum. Hearing heavy footsteps coming to the door, the knob twisted and pulled open slowly. “Ah, Damian, welcome.” The man smiled.

“Hi, Roman.” I smiled, waving at him.

“Please forgive me, sir. He’s been kind of… disrespectful ever since he became fully aware of his powers.” Damian’s dark eyes slid over at me with a glare set. I twisted my lips, tongue rolling against my cheek, it was my turn to be nervous.

Roman flashed a smile, his white teeth showing. “No need to be asking for forgiveness, we’ll show the young man the right way of vampire life. Come, come.” Roman opened his door wider. Following after Damian, I looked around the large house. There were heavy dark curtains hanging on the windows, and leather furniture in the living room. As I was admiring the rich dark taste this stranger had set in his home a scent of blood hit my nose.

My eyes dilated, my mouth started to water. I quickly rushed myself to Damian, hooking myself to his arm and not letting go. “I smell blood.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Simon, please.” Damian begged, hoping I won’t go on a blood craving rampage like I did with that drunk last night.

“It’s okay Damian.” Roman chuckled, his long dark hair flowing over his shoulders. As the Samoan man guided us around the house I peeked inside a room, seeing a few wrestlers I knew sitting on a sofa with a few women naked, dancing around them. I saw the Uso twins, their hands resting on the hips of the women that were grinding against them. I swallowed hard. Was this a orgy party Damian invited me to?

I gasped loudly to see Jimmy and Jey open their mouths wide, fangs extending out and biting the women. “T- They’re vampires?” I choked out, pulling away from Damian.

“Simon, please.” Damian hushed, pulling me close to him once again. It was as if he thought I wouldn’t be surprised.

Roman smiled, showing his fangs towards me. “Not just any vampire, I’m the one that made you all.”

I looked over at Damian. “He turned you?” I asked.

Damian nodded. “He’s the one that turned the ones in the group.”

“Group?” I squinted.

“We have a group, we’re trusty towards one another and we help each other out.” Damian explained. “After Roman turned me I too ran away.” Damian smiled at me. “Sound familiar?” He teased me. “Anyways, after Roman found me he introduced me to his little group. He provides for us all, he helps us get through the good and the bad.” Damian wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer.

“If you want to join my group all you have to do is ask-”

“Can I join your group?” I instantly asked.

Roman laughed at how eager I was to be a part of the group. “Yes, but you have to do a ritual hunt with me and Damian before you can join.”

“And that is?” I arched my eyebrow.

“We have to kill and eat the blood of a virgin.” Roman licked his lips, his eyes darkening.

My eyebrows furrowed together, staring at him. Killing an innocent. “I won’t do it.” I quickly turned on my heel and left the room without a word.

“Simon.” Damian was about to run after me but Roman grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

Days have passed since we visited Roman’s house and after him saying we had to kill and drink the blood of a virgin I instantly refused and left. “It’s not like they’re forced into it. These virgin’s are willing to do it.” Damian was sitting on the sofa, watching me. “These women and men beg us to feed off of them and to-”

“They’re willing to get killed afterwards?” I rubbed my face, this sounded so fucking crazy. I only killed the non innocent and fed off them, not innocent, virgins after all.

“Yes!” Damian huffed, tired of explaining it more than once.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I mumbled, my stomach turning at the thought or maybe because I haven’t eaten anything in awhile. All this talk wasn’t making me hungry after all.

“Simon, if you don’t do this hunt then you won’t be able to get in the group and I really do think you should be involved in this group. Roman can teach you so many things that I can’t teach you.” Damian defended.

“I’m fine the way I am.” I hissed.

“No, you’re not! You’re not the Simon I fell for, you’re not the Simon I wanted by my side for all eternity.”

“That Simon died when you stuck your fangs in me.” My fists balled up, my nails digging into my palms. I didn’t want to think back to that time, I was happy when I was human, yes. It took awhile to be happy in my new form as well.

Damian stood up with a hard frown on his face. “Well if you think that then don’t bother coming Friday for the ritual hunt.”

Night of the ritual came so fast, I was sitting on the sofa as I saw Damian passing by wearing all black. “I won’t be coming back, Simon.”

I frowned, looking away from the television. “What do you mean you won’t be coming back?” I asked.

“Roman invited me to stay at his house with the other vampires in the group. He wants us all close just in case something happens, like a hunter is near.”

“What if a hunter comes hunting me down?” My doe eyes looked up at him. Damian did his best not to make eye contact with me. The television sound in the background as it was silent for a few seconds.

“Then, you should’ve thought about doing the ritual hunt so you could have a pack to protect you.” With that Damian left, closing the front door behind him.

My blood boiled, who does Roman think he is? Just because he’s the head vampire he thinks he can steal my boyfriend and have Damian live with him. I gritted my teeth, soon worrying about what Damian said also. I was aware of hunters but never ran into any since I tried my best to live a normal lifestyle.

Midnight struck as I walked along the forest floor. Twigs and sticks snapped underneath my feet as I had my hood up. Owls hooting high above in the trees, a coyote howled in the distance. I checked my phone one last time, no missed calls or texts from anyone. Looking up I saw a dim light ahead, knowing that’s where the ritual was being placed at. I didn’t want to use my speed to approach. This whole thing still is not sitting right with me.

Walking closer to the looming light, I appeared out of the tree lines to see other members of Roman’s group in a large circle around the fire, their hoods up. Everyone looked at me. “Simon.” I looked in the direction of the hushed whisper, recognizing the clothes it was Damian with his hood up.

I swallowed, maybe this was a mistake.

“Simon. I was worried you wouldn’t show.” A smirk appeared on Roman’s lips as he was in the middle of the large circle, next to the fire. “Come, come.” He waved his hand towards me. I gulped, looking at Damian one last time. Damian nodded his head yes, giving a small smile to show me everything was okay. Looking back at Roman, my feet slowly started to take me to him.

“Everyone! I’d like you all to welcome our new member of the group, Simon!” Roman gripped the back of my hood and pulled it down. I squinted slightly as the brightness of the flames blinded me.

“Welcome, Simon.” They all said in sync.

I gulped. “Hi.” I said softly, giving everyone a small wave.

“To make Simon an official member of the group he will be doing the ritual of sucking blood from a virgin and killing them!”

I exhaled a breath, trying to not show my nervousness towards Roman. I wasn’t doing this for him but for Damian so he wouldn’t leave me and maybe to get some protection just in case a hunter does end up finding me and trying to kill me.

“Bring out the virgin!” Roman’s deep voice echoed throughout the woods. Two members came out from the woods, holding onto a young blonde male he looked to be in his mid twenties possibly fresh out of high school. “Simon, this is Nate.” Roman introduced me to the young man in a robe. His bare chest slightly exposed showed me that he was naked underneath. “Nate, this is Simon. The vampire that’ll drain you.”

I gulped, feeling queasy. I had a frown settle on my lip only to be surprised by Nate shaking my hand. “Hi! Man, I can’t wait to be sacrificed by you Mr. Simon.” Nate shook my hand overly excited.

“Simon is fine.” I corrected him. “Nate, how’d you hear of us?” I looked over at Roman, seeing if he’d get upset at me for asking questions.

“Well, my girlfriend is a goth chick, super into this stuff. Group of her friends mentioned it to her and well, she was sacrificed by you guys last week.” He had a large smile on his face as he spoke about his girlfriend.

“What are you getting out of this?” I arched my eyebrow. Did someone brainwash this poor young adult or was the kid was on something.

“Well, it’s really not about me.” He laughed. “You get to be in the pack and I get to be with my girlfriend in the promised lands. It’s a win, win.”

I looked at Roman who only nodded. I looked back at Nate. If vampires existed then why wouldn’t this ‘promise land’. “And you one-hundred percent want this?” I whispered, looking into the boy’s eyes to see any fear or any signs that he wanted to change his mind.

“This is more than I ever wished for.” He said just as softly back to me.

“It’s time, Simon.” Roman mumbled. “The moon is at its peak in the night sky! It’s time for Simon to officially become one of us!” Roman announced loudly.

Looking up at the night sky, dark clouds slowly rolled and the large moon shone down on us. I looked back at Nate who became more excited and had me gulp once more. “Thanks Simon.”

“I hope you find your girlfriend.” I nodded to Nate.

“Trust me, I will.”

I looked around seeing the vampires around us with their hoods up and fangs showing with a dark smile on their lips. I chewed the inside of my cheek, something still not setting right about killing a virgin.

“Simon, you’re running out of time.” Roman growled as he watched as the moon slowly moved away.

My eyes settled upon Damien in the crowd, his eyes wide. I needed to decide and fast. Kill this boy, be in the group and have Damian or let the boy live, don’t have a pack and Roman gets my boyfriend.

Gritting my teeth, the thought of Roman having Damian made my blood boil in my veins. I looked over at Nate, gripping his shoulder and pulled him close not even thinking. Pushing Nate’s head roughly to the side, exposing his neck I sank my teeth into his flesh and bit down harshly.

The boy screamed loudly as I sucked his blood harder. My eyes closed as I moaned lowly at the taste of his blood hitting my tongue. “That’s enough, Simon.” Roman announced.

Nate’s eyes slowly shut as I drained the life out of him. “Simon enough!” Roman roared. I ripped my fangs out of Nate’s neck. My eyes darken, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth. I heaved in and out breaths as I stared down Roman. Nate slowly rocking side to side next to me, his face pale from the lack of blood in his system. Staring at Roman made me even angier, how dare he try to steal my lover away from me.

The crowd gasped loudly as my fist punctured through Nate’s chest, exiting through his back, his heart in my hand. I ripped my hand out of him, I tossed his limp body into the bond fire. His flesh and clothes caught on fire. The smoke engulfed upwards as the terrible stench of burning flesh flooded the forest.

“What the fuck was that?” The door slammed shut.

I didn’t say anything, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “What? You wanted me to do it so I did it!” I snapped. “I’m in this stupid pack with you.”

“You won’t think its stupid when Roman saves us from hunters.”

I snarled. “What is it with you being obsessed with Roman?”

“Nothing! He’s the head vampire, Simon! He’s the one who changed me.” Damian argued back.

I huffed, looking away. A knock was at the door. “Great, because of us yelling they probably don’t want us to stay.”

I knew all the vampires in the house could hear us arguing about Roman but I didn’t care. Hearing the door open I heard a voice that made me grit my teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine.” I spat.

Roman looked at Damian, not saying a thing Damian opened the door wider, letting Roman in. “Ever since his transition, he’s changed.” Damian explained.

“Hmm.” Roman hummed to himself, walking towards me. My eyes glued to the floor, watching Roman’s feet come up to me. Roman gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him. I slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” I barked.

Roman smirked, his tongue darting out over his lip. “I see the problem here.”

“You do?” Damian’s tone was full of worry.

Roman nodded. “Someone forgot to be grateful for his powers and become immortal.” Roman explained.

“So how do we get rid of his attitude?”

I looked up at Roman, he was still looking down at me and gave me a wink. “Just a bit of dominating will change him right up.” Roman grabbed the button of his pants and popped them open, slowly tugging down his zipper.

“You wouldn’t dare.” I snarled, glaring up at Roman.

“Anything to get you back in line.” Roman threatened back. His pants lowering down his hips along with his boxers. His already hard cock springing up. He wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself. “You know, Damian came to me about you. Saying how you’ve been miss behaving and being sloppy about leaving a trail of bodies.”

I glared over at Damian who wouldn’t meet my gaze. I looked up at Roman. “Yeah, so?” I huffed only to let out a small grunt when Roman gripped my jaw tightly.

“In my pack, we don’t do that.” He growled. “You obey, listen and clean up after yourself. I think you’ll understand once I’m done with you.” His other hand never stopped jerking his cock. “Now open.” He let go of my chin.

I glared over at Damian, how dare he get Roman involved and now I have to suck him off to be good? I let out a snort by accident.

“Something funny?” Roman asked. “I said suck my cock, nothing funny about it.” His tone was more serious.

Doing as he said, I dropped off the bed and down to my knees. Groaning as Roman’s hand gripped my hair. “Open wide, I’m pretty big.” He laughed, pushing the tip of his cock against my lips. I hissed at him, giving him the opportunity to shove his thickness in my mouth. Roman wasn’t easy either, slightly gagging against his thickness. My hands gripped his waist, trying to push him away with my super strength but he wasn’t budging. “Don’t fight it.”

Glaring up at him, I stopped trying to push Roman away, easing up my throat I let him fuck further down. Trying my best to breath normally and not choke on the alpha’s cock I kept calm and let him face fuck me. “Hmm, you’re lucky to have Damian. If you were mine you wouldn’t be coming for weeks after that little stunt you pulled, running away.” Roman tisked.

Roman’s large hand gripped my hair as he kept pumping his cock in and out of my hot mouth. “Hmm, he sure does know how to take cock.”

“His ass is even better.” Damian blurted out, watching in the corner. Damian touched his cock here and there at the sight of his master taking his lover.

Roman smirked. “Is that an invitation?”

My eyes snapped towards Damian, eyebrows furrowed. He better fucking not.

“Anything to get him to listen.” Damian shutter.

“Perfect.” Roman purred. “Looks like you’re going to be my little cock warmer.” Roman laughed, his dick twitching in my mouth. Roman was obviously getting harder at the thought of fucking me. Roman pulled his cock out fully, making me gasp for air.

Roman gripped me by the hair once more. “Ah fuck!” I hissed at the pain. Roman pulled me up to my feet, bending me over the bed. “Lube?” Roman asked Damian as he started to pull down my pants. Hearing Damian walk around the room Roman said ‘thank you’. The lid popping off, Roman squirting a decent amount on his fingers. Clicking it shut, Roman tossed the lube on the bed.

I exhaled a soft breath as Roman pressed two fingers against my hole. “Fuck.” I whined, pressing my forehead against the mattress and gripping the sheets.

“Hmm, you’re only good when you want things. Huh?” Roman slowly kept pushing his fingers in.

“Fuck you!” I spat.

“Ah, ah.” Roman pulled his fingers out.

“N- No, I’m sorry please.” Pushing my hips back I was hoping his fingers were still there.

“Be nice, Simon.” Roman’s free hand came down on my ass, spanking it.

“I’m sorry, I will!” I squealed.

Roman swirled two tips of his fingers against my hole. “Fuck, look at this greedy hole.” Roman moaned as he pushed two fingers deeper inside of my ass. “Damian, don’t just stand there. He has another hole open.”

I swallowed thickly knowing he meant my mouth. Damian walked over to the bed, pushing down his pants he was bare below. His cock hard from the sight in front of him. “Open. Now.” Damian growled. I didn’t hesitate, opening my mouth I wrapped my lips around Damian’s cock, bobbing my head up and down.

“We’re making some progress.” Roman pointed out, seeing how willingly I was to take Damian’s cock. Roman’s fingers slowly fucked my ass, not going deeper than I wanted. Soft whines and moans escaped my mouth along with Damian. My cock rubbing up against the soft fabric of the bed.

Pulling away from Damian’s cock I spoke. “Please, my cock- I- I need to come-” I choked as Damian grabbed the back of my head and forced me to take his dick once more.

“You come when we tell you to.” Damian grunted, pushing his hips against my face.

“You’re getting the hang of it.” Roman chuckled seeing the dominant side of Damian. Roman’s fingers pulled out of my fucked ass making me whine softly. I pushed my ass back, trying to get him to come back and keep fucking me but I heard him walk away from the bed.

“Don’t worry about him.” Damian said, noticing I was trying to figure out what Roman was doing. “Focus on my cock.” Damian kept pumping his hips more into my face, his cock thrusting in and out of my throat. Grunts and moans escaped Damian’s lips as he gripped my hair and fucked his cock further.

Roman came back behind me, setting a few items on the bed. I tried to look to see what they were but it was out of my vision. “This’ll get him to be the good little sub he was once before.” Hearing the bottle of lube open again and some being squirted I jerked my hips to feel a plug being pushed into my ass.

“Fuck!” I muffled against Damian’s cock as the plug was pushed fully inside of me.

“Now for the next thing.” Roman hummed, reaching around my waist my eyes widened as I realized he was placing a cock ring around my stiff member.

“Fuck, he looks so pretty stuffed full.” Damian sped up his thrusting, his large dick twitching deep in my throat. My eyes watered as his large load erupted. Damian held my head tight, forcing me to stay still and swallow every last drop of his come. He slowly slid his cock out of me, my lips numb and swollen.

Reaching down to get the cock ring off, Roman quickly grabbed my wrists and handcuffed one, threading the chain through the bedpost and cuffing my other wrist. “What the fuck.” I hissed, my cock throbbing for attention.

“Until you realize you’re not the one in charge here we’ll let you free.” Roman pulled out a remote, clicking the top arrow the butt plug started to vibrate.

“Fuck!” I cried out, arching my back. My cock brushed up against the fabric of the covers.

“We’ll see you in two days.” Roman smirked.

“Two days!” I yelled.

“Yes, you’ve been a pain in my ass, Simon.” Roman growled, gripping my hair. “I’ve had to postpone things because of you and clean up your messes. So yes, I’m leaving you here for two days until you realize that you should be grateful for me and Damian.” Letting go of my hair he straightened up. “Lets go.”

“Damian don’t you dare!” I snarled.

My sexual appetite overcame my actual hunger. When Roman said ‘see you in two days’, he really did mean two days. Not one person came into the room and offered me a blood bag or to see how I was doing. My ass was still full, the plug vibrating for two days straight. I hoped and begged for the batteries to die and for it to stop but it never did. My cock still hard like a cock no thanks to the rubber ring wrapped so tightly around it.

Hearing the door unlock and swing opened I hoped it was Damian. “Fuck, Damian. Please its been two days.” I whimpered, giving the cuffs a weak tug.

The door closed. “Indeed it has been two days.”

I growled. “Roman, I want Damian.”

“Not going to happen, he’s requested for me to finish the procedure without him.”

“Why?” I quickly began to panic.

“Because, Simon, he loves you too much. He doesn’t want to see you like this.” Roman huffed, explaining the situation. “Now, do you think you’ve learned anything?”

“Y- Yes, just please let me go.”

“And what did you learn?”

I swallowed, stepping down from my big ego I spoke. “That you’re the one in charge and I should listen to you and clean up my way of hunting for food.”

“Good boy.” Roman came around and unlocked the handcuffs. I quickly gripped my aching red wrists and rubbed them.

“Thanks.” I mumbled.

“We’re not done yet.” Roman walked back to the foot of the bed. He rolled me over onto my back, my cock resting against my stomach, nearly a different color. Roman admired my struggle, plug vibrating in my ass along with my tied up cock.

“C- Can I come, please?” I swallowed, being near to tears I would do anything for my release.

“Let’s just see how a really good boy you are.” Roman hummed, grabbing the base of the plug and slowly pulled it out.

“Fuck.” I whined, arching my back.

“Such a sight to see.” Roman purred. “But let’s see if you can take bigger.” He teased me. Hearing his pants unzip, Roman fished for his cock. Roman’s pants slowly hung below his waist, only allowing his cock to be exposed. He pushed his mushroom tip against my two day fucked hole. Soft whines spewed from my lips as I gripped the mattress. “Shh, you’re taking my cock so well.” Roman mumbled, pushing inch by inch slowly.

“Fuck, your hole is still dripping with lube.” Roman moaned, pulling out and pushing his cock back in. Roman grabbed both of my legs, placing them over his shoulder. His hands rested upon my waist.

“P- Please.” I whined, my cock bouncing with each thrust Roman gave. “C- Can I touch myself.”

“No.” Roman grunted. “Not until I tell you.”

Pouting, I huffed. Trying my best to show Roman how much of a good boy I really was/turned into. “F- Fuck, Ro.” I arched my back as his pace started to become faster.

“Yeah, that’s it. Sing for me, let me hear you.” His grip on my waist became tighter, his nails digging into my flesh. Small pricks of blood appeared from the indents. “You really are a good little cock slut.” Roman chuckled, each thrust his balls slapped against my ass.

“R- Roman, please. I need to come.” I begged once more. My body is exhausted from staying up for two days in a row and not being able to come.

“Almost, fuck almost there little sub.” Roman’s movements became slightly sloppy as he sped up. His cock nearly exited out and slammed back in making me cry out in pain and pleasure. His cock was slightly larger than Damian’s but both felt amazing.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” Roman grunted, he paused his thrusting, his load bursting inside of me. Roman grabbed the cock ring, tugging it off. “Come little slut.” He wrapped his hand around my shaft and already had me coming. Just the touch of his hand had me coming undone.

“A- Ah, yes! Fuck!” My eyes squeezed shut as my orgasm washed over me. As I came down from my high, panting, my cheeks became red. Realizing from Roman’s littlest touch made me come.

Opening my eyes I saw Roman looking down at me with a wide smirk. “I hope you learned your lesson, Simon.”

Nodding my head quickly. “I- I did, I learned my lesson. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Simon.” Roman slowly pulled his cock out from my ass, making me whence. “You know, you remind me of myself when I became a fresh vampire.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Yup. I too ran away from my master.” Roman hummed. “He wanted me to be her personal sex slave. Sex, killing people and more sex.” He frowned. “I was fifteen at the time. I didn’t know any better. I heard that he could make me immortal so I took it.”

“What did you do?” I asked, sitting up.

“Well, I killed him.” Roman looked over me. “I took his place, becoming the head vampire. I promised myself I wouldn’t be like him. I’d protect my people and have a pack. We all look out for each other.” Roman said. “I was worried about you, I didn’t want you to end up like me and kill for fun or out of rage.”

I nodded. “I guess I really was getting too cocky.” I looked down.

“Hey.” Roman placed his hand underneath my chin and had me look up at him. “All is forgiven.” Roman placed a soft kiss upon my lips. My eyes slowly closed at the tenderness. Roman pulled away, standing up he went to the bag in the corner. I didn’t even notice he was brought in. He pulled out two blood bags. “For you.” He handed them to me. “Once you finish, come on out. Damian would love to see you.” He flashed a smile.

I ripped the bag open with my teeth, about to devour the blood. I stopped, looking at Roman. Slowly placing the bag on my lips, I suckled away the blood at a normal pace. I wanted to show Roman that I wasn’t some blood crazed maniac like I was before. He nodded, proud of my change. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Roman ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head.

Roman walked towards the door as I suckled the blood bag away. The blood cleared my dizzy head and filled my empty stomach. “Oh and Simon?” Roman stopped at the door.

“Hmm?” I looked up at him, the bag still connected to my mouth.

“Welcome to the group. I’m glad to have you.” With that Roman shut the door leaving me in the room where I was stuck in for two days. Maybe this group will be good for me.

Damien Priest's Masterlist

Roman Reigns' Masterlist

6 notes · View notes

borathae · 11 months

Note

OMG NOT THE CLIFFHANGER SIBIIIIIII THIS CANT BE HAPPENING GIRL 😭😭😭😭 you really gave us the fluffiest chapter after so much pain only to send us back to it right after jssksksksk you are so evil I love you jskskskksksksksks I truly love reading oc being so unhinged, SO deep into madness that even the boys find it creepy af jsksksksksk love that for her everyone deserves a little psychotic break that scares even vampires once in a while after experiencing deep trauma jskskskksks but my heart BROKE for Taetae he was so hurt cause he’s been trying so hard to be supportive and trying to keep her from killing herself out of exhaustion so I totally get where his anger and disappointment comes from BUT he also forgot he went through something similar to her and was acting crazy too, in a different way than hers but still! And my sweet Kookie 😔😔😔 he just wanted to help bring his Yoongi back and got Tae getting mad at him too 😔 at least THAT didn’t last long because I swear that I can barely take Yoongi being “dead” for the latest chapters, I wouldn’t be able take Tae’s relationship with oc and Kookie dying too 😭😭😭😭 I love them so much please I just want them all happy and disgustingly in love again 😭 oh and Jimin getting all protective of Tae that he didn’t even let Kook get close to him like damn 👁️🫦👁️

When oc took them with her to the underground tunnels my brain was screaming “this is not good, this is not good, it’s a terrible idea, they’re are going to get scared of her or get angry at her for torturing other vampires and being the unhinged little witch she’s become and everything will go to hell again, this is a bad idea, I don’t want to see them being scared of her” like for real Sibi im so terrified of what you can do to these babies after all the angst of the past chapters that I was expecting the WORST jskskskss thank god it didn’t go that way any that they were just slightly scared and shocked to find out what she’s been up to and the lengths of her grief induced madness, BUT ANYWAYS THE SPELL WORKED! THANKS GRANDMA LILLY! 😭😭😭 the moment she realised her spell worked on her test subject and she finally had a way to bring her Boongie back and all the weight, stress, sadness, and every negative emotions she felt for the past months came crashing down on her like a truck 😭 her mind was strong enough to keep all those emotions negative enough to kill her to herself for so long without breaking in a physical sense until now, of course everything she neglected during that time, like her health would catch up to her the moment she felt that weight lift and especially if we add to that the heavy magical exertion that performing a spell like that would take on her body, like please this girl deserves long cuddle sessions, forehead kisses and only happiness for now on, no more angst for her 😭😭😭

And yes, letting her go do the spell on Yoongi the moment she woke up was a terrible idea, girl at least REST for ONE more day to ensure your body is capable of doing it without dying!!! But she’s so stubborn she could barely walk without help 😭😭😭 like yes listen to Kookie, Yoongi would poison himself with cursed wood back if he wakes up and finds you dead, ONE OF YOU BEING DEAD FOR TRYNG TO SAVE THE OTHER AND THE OTHER BEING AWAKE DUE TO THE EFFORTS OF THE DEAD ONE ITS NOT IT OC GODDAMNIT

And gosh! The moment she entered his room and found him all grey, looking really sick and telling the others how bad he got only for the others to tell her that that’s how he’s looked since the begging and her realising how blinding to reality her madness was 😭😭😭 STOP BREAKING MY HEART

and then when the spell didn’t work right away I was like “of course it didn’t work on Yoongi, he’s THE creator maybe things don’t work the same for him just like death, the spell doesn’t work for this kind powerful and ancient being” and I swear I was spiriting into madness just like oc at that point jsksjsjsjjssk BUT YOU CAN NOT DO THIS SIBI WHAY DO YOU MEAN WITH YOONG’S EYES OPEN AS HERS CLOSE AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH SIBI BABY HE CANT WAKE UP TO HER PASSED OUT ON THE VERGE OF DEATH OR WORSE ACTUALLY DEAD AAAAAHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Note: Jungkook has been plaguing my mind since I heard the explicit version of seven, i want to die how dare he do this to mesjssjkaakkskssksks like this man made me go into severe heat with one simple line in a song jskskskskskkskskslls and the MV? the most Jungkook thing Kook could do jsksksks it was so funny, I was telling my cousin only Jungkook (and the rest of the tannies) can get away with this because at the first sign of that behaviour from any other man and you’ll catch me filling for a restraining order asap sjskkskssksjjsksks, how are you after the masterpiece our bunny gave us? Sksjsksksksksks

-Shy anon

I truly love reading oc being so unhinged, SO deep into madness that even the boys find it creepy af jsksksksksk love that for her everyone deserves a little psychotic break that scares even vampires once in a while after experiencing deep trauma

PREACH FJADSFJ I love her acting this way as well istfg I stan a queen

but my heart BROKE for Taetae he was so hurt cause he’s been trying so hard to be supportive and trying to keep her from killing herself out of exhaustion so I totally get where his anger and disappointment comes from

YES GOD I JUST WANNA HUG THIS MAN PLEASE GIVE HIM COMFORT 😭😭

at least THAT didn’t last long because I swear that I can barely take Yoongi being “dead” for the latest chapters, I wouldn’t be able take Tae’s relationship with oc and Kookie dying too 😭😭😭😭

BRUH MOOD ANDFNAN

oh and Jimin getting all protective of Tae that he didn’t even let Kook get close to him like damn 👁️🫦👁️

THIS IS SO VALID AND SO TRUE FANDFNA

like for real Sibi im so terrified of what you can do to these babies after all the angst of the past chapters that I was expecting the WORST jskskskss

*LAUGHS IN EVIL AUTHOR* HAFHAHAH

LISTEN!!! OC IS SO STRONG ISTFG IMMA SAY IT AGAIN BUT SHE IS BADDEST BITCH EVER I FUCKING LOVE THIS QUEEN SO MUCH NDNFANDN

like yes listen to Kookie, Yoongi would poison himself with cursed wood back if he wakes up and finds you dead, ONE OF YOU BEING DEAD FOR TRYNG TO SAVE THE OTHER AND THE OTHER BEING AWAKE DUE TO THE EFFORTS OF THE DEAD ONE ITS NOT IT OC GODDAMNIT

*CRIES* IMAGINE IF SHE IS DEAD NOW FUCKING IMAGINE

also to answer your note: *incoherent screeching noises from my pussy* JFJADJFASJ 😩😩😩

#asks: magnus venatio #asks #shy anon #long post #reviews

3 notes · View notes

kiss-my-freckle · 2 months

Note

I hate how so many SE fans and KC fans hate on Damon for every little thing and use the sirebond against Delena but think Ch*ck is better than Damon. If you compare the TVD reddit to the GG one which is hell for DE fans many people who shit on Damon defend Chuck saying that the pilot isn't canon which is ridiculous itself since his pilot actions are referenced later and he continues to treat women badly. They say Damon never apologized to any woman and that Chuck is better in that which is laughable. Chuck never apologized for trying to coerce Serena into sex. He forced himself on Jenny even though she said no multiple times and told her to be quiet and restrained her until her brother (Dan) found her. He made a creepy comment to Dan after saying "Ah, yes, little Jenny. Do believe she and I have some unfinished business." He also said this later (and no his pants weren't off):"Little Jenny Humphrey manages to get my pants off and have me not enjoy it. Quite the accomplishment."And Blair disgustingly responds like this "Good thing someone else at the party was as lecherous as you or you'd still be up on that roof." After Dan told him to stay away from her he called her and Serena sluts. He said this about Serena: "There's something wrong with that level of perfection. It needs to be violated." He also told Blair's boyfriend at the time (Nate) to take Blair's virginity since he was entitled to tap her ass. He ended up taking it instead and slutshamed her by saying she was beautiful when she was untouched and now she was like a horse rode hard and put away wet. When she said you're all I have left he said you don't even have me and that he doesn't see why anyone else would want her. Traded her for a hotel to his creepy uncle who slept with her when she was a teen and who forced himself on his stepmom. They claim he apologized for that but his apology was seasons later and vague by saying "I'm sorry for treating you like property," when there were other things that fit that and he continued to disrespect her after. She said she felt like a weak little girl with him and that she didn't like who she became with him, like how Elena said she felt like a broken toy with Stefan. Or how Caroline said she didn't feel like herself with Klaus. He also cheated on her by taking Jenny's virginity when Jenny was drunk and upset. He apologized to Jenny before sex episodes before but he vaguely said I'm sorry for how I treated you that night instead of specifically apologizing. He never apologized to Serena even though her sa was worse. Blair's reaction right after finding out about the way he treated them was insensitive and she never apologized. Instead she bullied Jenny and kicked her out of the city after he cheated. She also slutshamed any women who looked in his direction. He was accused of sexual harassment by his employees which he denied and she called those women moneygrabbers. He was emotionally abusive doing things like standing her up while expecting her to chase him, kissed her assuming she dumped her bf for him then grabbed her and punched the window behind her while drunk after, like Stefan in 1x19. Impulsively killed his father, another parallel he shares with Stefan. He also creepily said he liked the minor Nate was sleeping with after she said she didn't mind if he saw them having sex in the last fucking season. Blair also made a disgusting comment about Dan being manipulated and taken advantage of while drunk and being filmed without his consent, saying in order to claim date **** you have to say no and hit him, but she's not nearly as hated as Elena. She also publicly outed him as a victim of his high school teacher for her own agenda. Why people ship them believing DE are worse and harass DE fans, and say Damon doesn't respect Elena's autonomy is beyond me. They don't like Dan for his self righteousness but love Stefan who's more self righteous.

I don't know who Chuck is. What I do know is that I don't excuse Damon's actions, but I do understand them according to how he's written. That's why I can't hate him or his actions. They're part of his journey as the very brother Stefan loves. I can so much as differentiate his actions based on Katherine's impact vs Sage's impact, Stefan's impact vs Elena's impact. For instance… Damon's actions at the end of 1x3 was all in response to Stefan, and one of the many instances in which they show a character's words affecting his actions. He's in Elena's room because of Stefan's words.

"Because deep down inside, there is a part of you that feels for her. I was worried that you had no humanity left inside of you, that you may have actually become the monster that you pretend to be."

It's one thing for Elena to be the voice of Damon's humanity, and another for Stefan to lead him to the voice of his humanity. Similar to Stefan using Elena to reach Damon in 8x2 as he knows she's the voice of his humanity. Fans can hate Damon all they want, but… the warm, kind, caring, compassionate, selfless person Stefan describes Elena to be ends up with Damon. That doesn't speak to Elena's character, but to Damon's, to the man Damon himself told her she would've liked in 1864. The very truth Damon knows of himself. The very brother Stefan himself looked up to. That's why I tell my followers they should question where Stefan got his "hero hair" because Damon was the one going off to war while Stefan stayed home with their father. That's why Stefan turns to Damon for love advice from Damon when he falls for Caroline. Why he turns to Damon and asks if he feels guilt. Why he turns to Damon and asks if he believes in redemption. Damon is the brother he looks up to, despite Stefan hating it when he acts a vampire. There's nothing a fan can say to me to make me change my mind about Damon. There's a quote on The Blacklist that's perfectly suited for Damon's character... "You can't judge a book by its cover. But you can by its first few chapters, and certainly by its last."

0 notes

eternally--mortal · 2 years

Text

So I already have a headcannon that Atlanteans sing Choral pieces to honor their dead, but I haven’t mentioned the other half (which is my favorite part).

I obsess over the idea that Atlanteans whistle funerary melodies in a minor key as an intimidation tactic on the battlefield (or, like, as a threat in a socially competitive situation, like when courting).

Percy learns this sometime after the Giant War and finds that it works for him, but he doesn’t know a ton of Atlantean funeral pieces, and they aren’t really his style anyway, so he uses modern music and whistles it in a minor key.

Triton’s immediate response is just ‘no. What are you doing. That’s not how this works you heathen.’

But Triton’s been spending a disgustingly inordinate amount of time in the mortal world recently because Dear Old Dad has him on babysitting duty ever since the Hera-kidnapping incident, so Triton’s had the opportunity to browse through an equally disgustingly inordinate amount of mortal music.

After suffering as an unwilling target of Percy’s sarcasm, Triton starts to use modern songs just to throw Percy off, and then he starts doing it because he actually likes it.

*Percy sarcastically whistling a minor version of “Far Too Young To Die” by Panic! At The Disco while also desperately trying not to die*

*Triton drops out of a tree and breaks in with the minor version of “Plotline” by emlyn*

Percy: Seriously? I’m sorry but what?

Triton: Listen to the lyrics and tell me that is not a battle song.

Percy: Aren’t you supposed to use funeral songs?

Triton: I’ve determined that this one is acceptable. There’s foreshadowing.

Percy: But it’s not a nice funeral song.

Triton: Exactly. It’s better. In our Pantheon, death is only temporary. But rejection is forever.

(Pallas would have loved that song and he is 100% singing it for her)

Triton is very thematic with his song choices. Percy’s tend to be whatever’s at the front of his brain —because ADHD. Classics like “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus, or “I Did Something Bad” by Taylor Swift. Or whatever alternative band he’s been rocking. Or Thalia’s punk music because when he mutilates it in the minor key she has the most fascinating mixed responses.

Triton tends to pick things like “Killing Kind” by Marianas Trench (both because the song is already perfectly haunting and thematically appropriate, and also because he’s pleased with the Band’s name). That way he can defend the fact that he’s totally breaking tradition while actually definitely enjoying it.

(Also I am Living for the prime, unwilling bonding time between Triton and NSA Todd as they keep having Stalker meet-cutes and sharing the same lookout spots while watching Percy. For like five seconds Todd is like ‘oh he’s from another agency’ until he notices the very obvious family resemblance and then it’s just ‘The mob sent him’ panic.)

I also headcannon that Atlanteans were conflated with Sirens because they are deeply associated with music. It’s not the same thing, but over time people forgot that Sirens are creepy bird ladies, and the confused mythology started giving the natural Atlantean music more power (because myth and rumor and worship boost power in Ancient Greek mythology).

#pjo #percy jackson #pjo headcanon #percy jackson and the olympians #riordanverse #triton #NSA Todd strikes again #Triton and Percy pick on each other #brotherly love #some of the time #minor key #on the battlefield #let’s stravinsky this shit #maybe my tags will work today #Triton had daughters #Triton is a good dad #let him rock Plotline #forgive my limited music selections #replace them at your leisure

85 notes · View notes

naranciasimp · 3 years

Note

If you start doing La Squadra, I'd love to request a platonic (with some flirty undertones tho) scenario of Melone and Reader on a mission together

Teamwork Makes The Dream Work

AN: I’m sorry if I got anything wrong when it came to Melone’s Stand. To be honest it kind of confuses me.

TW: mentions of drugs, alcohol, sex, smoking and pedophilia (none of the above are done by Melone or the Reader)

“Melone, are you sure we should be doing this here?”

“I’m positive! This is the perfect place to find a mother! Just stay by me and you’ll be fine.” Melone had a cocky smirk on his face as he walked slightly in front of you, his computer tucked under his arm.

You sighed and opened the door. This had to be the worst bar you had ever seen. It wasn’t like the fancy places you and Prosciutto would go to, this place was notorious for drugs, alcohol, sex, and many other unmentionable things. Not many people knew about it due to it being located in a dirty alley way but there was still somehow a bunch of people partying.

Once you entered the place you were quickly overwhelmed by the loud music. Melone grabbed your hand and smiled. “Let’s go!” You weren’t surprised that Melone knew this creepy place like the back of his hand but rather worried for him.

He dragged you to the back of the bar and sat you at a small table. He took a seat next to you and opened up his computer. Melone began quickly typing and getting everything set up. “Y/N, remind me what this guy looks like again.”

You quickly grabbed the mission file out of your backpack. “He’s a corrupt politician and a pedophile. Here’s his picture.”

You handed the image over to Melone. He looked at it disgustingly and gave it back to you. “I hate scum bags like him.”

“I know, it’ll be fun to kill this one.” You put the mission report back in the bag and grabbed the targets DNA sample. Melone plugged it into his computer and turned to you. “So, who should be our mother?”

Your eyes served the place. You know from the countless times of helping Melone that the woman needs to be a mess, but not so much of a mess that she would make BabyFace uncontrollable. “What about that one? Pink dress with a cigarette?”

“Di molto! Good job Y/N. Now go steal her things and get her DNA.”

You groaned and summoned your Stand. It quickly stole her wallet and pulled a piece of lose hair out of her head. Your Stand put it all on the table then went away.

Melone thanked you and began his work. “Their Zodiac Signs are horrible together! Blood type is AB Positive while the mans is AB Negative…. She looks to be in good enough health. From the looks of it she smokes and is an alcoholic which is lovely!”

Once he combined the DNA he sat back in his chair and waited. This part took a bit of time. Melone leaned his head on your shoulder. “You never told me what your favorite position is in the Indian Karma Sutra,” he pouted.

“Melone how many times do I have to tell you I am not answering your weird questions!?”

“Y/N it’s important,” he whined. “How will you have babies without kissing in different sex positions?”

You shook your head. “No babies.”

He gasped and sat up. “What!? No babies? But I wanted at least 5 kids!”

“Who said I was having your babies Melone,” you playfully yelled at him.

He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. He looked back at you with a cheeky smile. “Oops my bad, I think that was just a dream.”

Right as you were about to knock some sense into him BabyFace grew legs and stood up on the table. Thankfully everyone was too drunk to notice it. Melone jumped out of his seat and began watching the process while typing some extra things into the computer. The baby part of it finally was “born” and it appeared on the mother’s head.

Melone picked up your backpack for you and grabbed his computer too. He quickly walked outside with both of them in his hands. “Come on Y/N! I want to nurture this beautiful child and use it to its fullest potential!”

Around this time he always began to sound way too much like a mad scientist but you ran after him nonetheless.

When you found him he was sitting down in the middle of another nearby alleyway and flipping through the pages of the book you had brought for him. You walked behind him to check on what BabyFace was saying.

“Mommy asked for more booze. What is booze?”

“Do not worry about that BabyFace, what is more important is what I’m about to teach you so listen closely.”

Melone quickly taught the Stand how to kill and who to kill. This part Melone had to do by himself because two mommies and one daddy or two daddies and one mommy would confuse the child.

You laid on the cold concrete and listened to Melone exclaim about how good of a BabyFace he had. “Y/N the mission is almost done! After this we need to report back to Risotto and let him know that we are safe. Would you like to go out somewhere once we finish?”

You smiled. “Totally! That would be really fun.”

He grinned at you and then went back to work. BabyFace was behaving very well but it still needed guidance. Fifteen minutes passed and then you heard the famous “Di molto” leave Melone’s mouth.

“You did it! Magnificent job BabyFace! Daddy is so proud of you!”

You stood up and gave him a high five. After celebrating your kill Melone picked up his laptop and put the book back in your backpack. While he did that you called Risotto and told him you were both safe. When you returned back to Melone he gave you a hug “Now, time to have some real fun my beloved Y/N!” He pulled a helmet on your head and hopped onto his motorcycle. You followed suit and you two drove off into the night.

#melone #melone x reader #la squadra x reader #jjba x reader #la squadra #my writing

121 notes · View notes

sketchguk · 4 years

Text

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen!

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning.

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid.

And he’s right.

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm.

That, you can get behind.

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM.

It’s anything but charming.

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you.

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately.

“Shit,” you hear from the other side.

Did he come? Is it over?

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose.

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund.

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor.

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too.

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday.

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter.

Not at all.

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily.

He’s talking to you.

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange.

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head.

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts.

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side.

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough.

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress.

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night.

But it doesn’t because it never works that way.

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence.

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken.

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend.

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute.

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs.

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so.

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses.

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems.

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space.

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything.

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it.

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye.

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before.

Everyone’s been there before.

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you.

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.”

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off.

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.”

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago?

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?”

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent.

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket.

“That’s a loaded question.”

Now it’s your turn to stay silent.

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.”

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold.

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around.

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough.

“Would you want to?”

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?”

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.”

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him.

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do.

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you.

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?”

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.”

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon.

“Want to talk about it?”

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen.

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?”

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less.

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.”

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense.

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough.

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other.

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.”

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow.

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.”

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain.

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation.

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break.

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.”

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet.

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least.

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face.

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night.

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull.

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone.

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.

You can hear him before you can even see him.

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life.

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.”

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination.

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him.

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way.

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle.

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile.

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout.

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning.

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes.

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”.

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you.

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question.

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over.

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.”

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously.

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.”

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.”

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…”

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh.

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you.

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them.

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises.

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots.

“Love it,” you gulp wryly.

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged.

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t.

“Is the coffee good?” He queries.

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display.

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable.

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind.

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers.

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know.

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries.

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?”

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation.

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep.

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?”

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year?

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day.

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery.

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another.

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon.

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.”

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend.

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love.

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands.

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend”

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.”

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point.

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?”

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?”

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart).

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off.

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval.

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back.

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow.

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand.

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.”

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home.

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands.

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in.

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon.

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way.

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table.

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door.

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured.

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations.

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day.

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart.

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest.

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does.

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not.

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove.

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you.

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist.

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence.

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough.

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side.

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways.

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit.

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre.

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!”

“I don’t know where to put them!”

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!”

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears.

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process.

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it.

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day.

And it works for the most part.

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth.

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously.

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over…

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are.

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock.

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet.

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop.

But of course all good things come to an end.

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again.

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips.

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?”

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story.

“Yeah, and how’d it go?”

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection.

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.”

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor.

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.”

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.”

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day.

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—”

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips.

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.”

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.”

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.”

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes.

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another.

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.”

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.”

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.”

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?”

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt.

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half.

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin.

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.”

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue.

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat.

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.”

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands.

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that.

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles.

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice.

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it.

“You don’t sound very happy?”

“No, I am,” he deadpans.

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer.

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is.

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.”

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy.

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent.

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk.

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects.

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought.

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.”

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word.

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.”

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile.

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.”

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.”

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.”

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly.

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.”

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.”

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock.

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest.

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead.

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him.

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?”

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable.

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?”

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.”

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters.

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.”

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed.

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.”

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries.

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew.

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year.

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound.

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes.

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet.

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again.

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness.

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth.

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day.

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch.

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude.

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage.

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear.

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.”

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended.

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー”

“Second of all, I do have one.”

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips.

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face.

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease.

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.”

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers.

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests.

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation.

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet.

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die.

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.”

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads.

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt.

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.”

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life.

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink.

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden.

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour.

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight.

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn.

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber.

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise.

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden.

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day.

And powering through is what you do best.

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take.

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you.

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin.

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.”

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter.

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin.

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart.

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else.

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction.

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden.

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm.

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested.

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight.

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling.

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance.

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh.

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself.

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care.

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face.

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene.

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face.

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead.

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar.

It’s a bit out of the ordinary.

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight.

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead.

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity.

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits.

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week.

Nothing seems to satisfy you.

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point.

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion.

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love.

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing.

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning.

But still, you had his best interests in mind.

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force.

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention.

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards.

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves.

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you.

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open.

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips.

“What’re youー”

“Y- You liveー”

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery.

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through.

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice.

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this.

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in.

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door.

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

How much weirder can this situation possibly get?

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row.

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you.

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream.

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.”

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes.

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids.

“Shoot.”

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now.

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile.

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.”

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment.

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?”

“You wanted to check up on me?”

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head.

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly.

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her.

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense.

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg.

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow.

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him.

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff.

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit. Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment.

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet.

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue.

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you.

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else.

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either.

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff.

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall.

“I-” He exhales.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on.

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted.

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love.

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow.

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?”

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take.

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you.

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter.

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head, “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face.

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go.

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you.

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.”

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding.

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.”

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him.

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.”

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself.

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum.

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー”

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again.

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes.

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.”

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.”

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up.

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー”

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes.

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.”

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.”

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain.

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze.

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear.

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?”

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for.

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs.

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin.

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck.

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours.

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on.

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms.

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater.

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch.

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress.

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud.

“Jimin?” You call out for him.

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps.

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed.

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.”

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard.

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you.

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body.

“Love it,” you moan.

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is.

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement.

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue.

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most.

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you.

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks.

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg.

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact.

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal.

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist.

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers.

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries.

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster.

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory.

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit.

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise.

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation.

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped.

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch.

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.”

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead.

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss.

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you.

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles.

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you.

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm.

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length.

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice.

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers.

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands.

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft.

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex.

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio.

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks.

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips.

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?”

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside.

3K notes · View notes

whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Pt.24 "Hunting for Bunnies"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, stalking, discussion of homicide/suicide (explicit), injury mention/description, blood (explicit), strangulation mention, gun/gunshot mention, character death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, prison mention, tics/tourrettes (descriptive), ptsd/nightmares, panic attack, chloroform use, self injury, x-acto knife (brief), gag/restraints, discussion of past whump, vomit mention (brief), conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome-type language (let me know if I missed anything!)

Healing was a good look on Elias. As weeks went on, his smile returned to his face, his bruises slowly melted away, the numerous scars scattering his body faded into small pinkish lines. He cut his hair a little shorter, dyed a streak of blue through it. He and Tyson got matching tattoos, little rain clouds and with lightning bolts on their forearms. They were happy, very obviously so.

August wanted to kill both of them for it.

He wasn’t entirely jealous (he was, so jealous he was blood thirsty every second of the day), he was more so just frustrated that Elias thought he was able to be happy without August. He was stupid. Adorable, but stupid. He didn’t know that he needed August to survive. He didn’t know that being away from each other was killing them both. Rather, he didn’t know how much the distance was making August want to kill them both. It would have to be a grand gesture, a murder suicide so beautiful there’ll be copycats. He had to talk himself out of those violent fantasies several times a day, hold himself back from getting out of his car while he followed Elias and just grabbing him. Maybe he’d strangle him again, watch the life drain out of his face, watch him slip into the dark abyss of death. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d take him home and torture him until he was broken beyond broken and then put him out of his misery. Single shot to the face, like he’d made Elias do to Sawyer so long ago. And then...August guessed he would do himself in after that. He was tired of being in and out of prison, and if Elias didn’t exist anymore, then what would be the point in living? Maybe that was the thought that made him change his mind, when his hand was on the door handle and he was getting ready to make a huge, violent, romantic scene. Maybe the idea of a world without Elias was just too sad, and he knew he didn’t really want Elias dead. He just wanted him away from Tyson.

They were both entirely oblivious that August was even close by, let alone watching them all the time. He was renting a room at a motel a couple streets away from Tyson’s apartment, but he was hardly ever there. He spent most of his time parked near their apartment, which was conveniently on the first floor and had a large window in the living room that was facing the street. There was also a porch in front, where Elias would occasionally sit outside late at night and smoke cigarettes or blunts. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes Allen was there with him. August often thought about how hilarious it would be to walk up to both of them at times like that, just to see them both unravel with fear at the same time. A few nights, when Tyson is working and Elias is all alone, August sits out front in the grass next to a tree and just watches Elias inside. He can see him smoking in the living room, he watches him pass out on the couch, sometimes he goes into the kitchen, comes back with nothing. When he goes to bed, August watches him lock the door, and it pisses him off so badly he wants to throw a rock through the window. He doesn’t want to go inside, he’s letting Elias heal again, he’s respecting his space, for the moment. Still, knowing that Elias actively wants to keep him out stings. So, he holds off breaking in for as long as he can.

It’s just a shame his resolve isn’t so strong, not when it comes to Elias. He can’t stay away from him anymore, he knew it the second he bought a plane ticket back here to find him, despite the very real possibility of being arrested any second. On the plane, he came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no control when it came to Elias. He couldn’t stay away from him, he couldn’t restrain himself when he was hurting him. He loved Elias, loved him so much it was driving him insane. Things just didn’t make sense when they were apart, August could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn’t about Elias, or how much it hurt to only be able to look but not touch. Though, when he broke in he wasn't able to touch Elias still, but it was at least closer than being separated by a window.

Tyson and Elias left the house, August wasn't sure where or when, but when August finally left his motel and pulled up to their place, the car was gone. It would be easy enough to find them, August had Tyson's number still and could get his location in minutes, if he wanted. Instead, he tested the door handle. It was unlocked. He guessed if they weren't there it didn't matter to them whether someone broke in or not.

August didn't make it obvious he was there, not the first time. He went through some of their things, put everything back in its place. He took one of Elias's shirts, a pair of his boxers. He didn't think either of them would notice, which bummed him out because he wanted Elias to know he was close by.

The next time he snuck in, it was when Elias was there. August had held himself off for as long as he could, he'd been in LA for 28 days already and he hadn't been closer than six feet from him the entire time. So when Elias smoked a huge bowl and went to bed without locking the door, it was like he was practically inviting him in, and August just couldn't help himself. He let himself in, he smoked what was left in Elias's bong, and he walked around the house for a little bit, waiting to make sure Elias was actually asleep before he went to see him.

Something about watching Elias sleep had always made August go disgustingly mushy for him. He looked so small, so vulnerable and unaware. This time was even better, because this time Elias thought he was free, thought that life was moving on without August, and yet here he was, kneeling next to the bed and watching Elias's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. He was beautiful, August was jealous of the moonlight kissing his face and making his face glow pale blue, he was jealous of the blankets wrapped snugly around his waist, he was jealous that Tyson got the privilege of sleeping next to this - his - angel almost every night.

August didn't have the courage to touch Elias, he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he didn't want to get carried away. It might start with trailing his fingertips over his face to see if he'd wake up, then if he didn't he might kiss all over his body until he opened his eyes, then he'd probably smother him with a pillow.

That time when he left, he took the blanket that Elias had been using in the living room earlier. It smelled like him. That night he slept in his car right out front, wrapped up in the same blanket that had touched Elias's skin, his clothes, his face. It was the closest he'd felt to him in months.

After that he was cocky. He found their spare key poorly hidden under a potted plant on the front porch, and he completely took advantage of it. He went in all the time when neither of them were home, cleaning up after them in small, nearly unnoticeable ways, or looking through their things, or just sitting on the bed where Elias often slept, wishing he was there at the moment. He also used it on nights when he couldn’t stand being away from Elias for a second longer, waiting until late in the night to sneak in and sit on the floor for hours to watch him sleep. Once, and he never did it again because Elias almost woke up, August reached out and gently pushed his hair away from his face, where it was tickling the tip of his nose and making his face twitch. It was a reflexive touch, August had only realized he’d done it as an afterthought, when Elias huffed softly and started to move under the blankets. August stared at his hand in disbelief, oh shit I just touched him. And then he left. But Elias still didn’t know he was there, and truthfully, August was getting bored. Bored? Try going insane. He wanted them to notice that something was off, that maybe they weren't as safe as they thought. But they just continued on with their stupid, repulsively happy lives. It was maddening, and at some point August couldn't take it anymore.

The first deliberate mistake he made to blow his cover was running into Allen at a grocery store. He wore a hat and a hoodie, and he carefully avoided him until he was near the front, in a crowd of people. August walked right into him, caught one of the many snack foods that he knocked out of Allen’s overflowing arms, and handed it back to him with a smile.

“Sorry, my bad,” he said smugly, watching Allen’s face fall from his tight frown to a blank, horrified stare. And then he just walked away.

Allen surprisingly didn’t go and tell Tyson and Elias that he saw him, at least if he did, neither of them seemed bothered in the slightest. That irritated August further. He’d been counting on Allen to run and tattle on him, rattle them up so that August could dive headfirst into chaos and whisk Elias away. Incompetent. Unreliable.

So August wrote love notes. He taped them to trees in the yard, tucked them under Tyson’s windshield wipers. They said stupid things like “you’re my favorite brand of heroin, I want to overdose on you” and “I can’t stop thinking about the heavenly way you scream my name today, you look nice by the way”. (His sister had taken a poetry class while they were in high school, he would like to think she would find this humorous. He’d tell her, if she would ever talk to him.) That shook them up a little bit. Really, he believed that Tyson was the only one finding and reading them, and he didn’t think he ever told Elias. Probably didn’t want to scare him. But he started really keeping an eye on the locked doors, as if August hadn’t already made himself at home there multiple times. Elias could sense his tension, it seemed, because he started passing out on the couch and staying there more often, waking up multiple times from nightmares. They were anxious. It wasn’t enough to have them anxious.

Again, August just couldn’t control himself.

So he paid Tyson a visit. He knew his work schedule, knew that he left a little after five in the morning, knew that on normal days he would be home and in bed with Elias by six, they would sleep until around nine. But that day, August was waiting for him, along with chloroform and some duct tape. He followed him to his car, he came up behind him and slowly lowered him to the ground as he knocked him out with the dowsed rag he was holding. He was hardly able to put up a fight. Then he dragged him to his car, and drove him to his motel room. It was easy enough to get inside unnoticed, and also easy enough to tie Tyson up in a chair and gag him before he woke up. He made sure it was all secure before he went back to their apartment.

Elias hadn’t woken up yet, so he had some time to smoke some of his weed and pour himself a glass of wine before he got started. He brought an x-acto knife from his motel, and he wandered around the apartment, slicing into his forearm and using his finger to smear his own blood into declarations of love on their perfect, off-white walls. He wished he could be there when Elias woke up. He could only imagine how his face would look as he walked around reading “I love you so much it hurts”, “you’re mine Bunny”, “we’ll be together forever”, things of that nature. He’d be mortified. Before he left, he slipped into the bedroom and left the nearly empty glass of wine, messy with his bloody handprint, on the bedside dresser so Elias would also see that upon waking up. Then, completely on impulse, he reached out and traced his fingertip over Elias’s cheek in the shape of a heart. The blood on his finger stayed behind on Elias’s pale skin, and August smiled brightly. Elias would be so scared when he got up and was all alone, he’d surely call Tyson first thing. Too bad he wouldn’t have his phone.

August left his car there, took the bus home with his hood pulled low over his face, folding his arms so no one could see the blood seeping through. His hands were buzzing with excitement, high off of the idea of being able to get Elias back.

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

Elias almost slept late into the morning, that was the first sign that something might be wrong. Tyson would usually be home when the sky outside was the washed-out blue it got before sunrise, would crawl into bed with Elias and pull him close. Then he would apologize to Elias for waking him up, and Elias would ignore his apology and ask him about his night, and then they would fall back asleep for a while. That morning, hours and hours after Tyson would usually be home, the sun was floating in through the partially opened curtains and turning the insides of Elias’s eyelids a bright red in it’s warm light. He woke up, stretched against the soft mattress, and then slid his hand over the sheets until he found Tyson, who would be in bed with him by now. Only, he was met with more blankets and an empty bed. Elias could feel the tired, confused scowl spread across his face upon realizing Tyson wasn’t right next to him, but he pushed the bitter anxiety that came with it away. Maybe he was making breakfast, maybe he was in the shower. It was just like Tyson to not wake him up when he decided to start his day, to try and let Elias sleep for as long as he could. He was sweet like that, always had been.

With a yawn, Elias tossed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his tired muscles out. It was still relatively new, and a little weird, for Elias to be able to stretch and move and even breathe without the addition of earth shattering amounts of pain, but he was getting used to it slowly. It didn’t come with nearly as much strange guilt anymore, he could hardly hear that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn’t deserving of a painless life, a life of ease. Even some days, when that little cruel voice was more of a brutal yell in his ear, telling him that he wasn’t worth any part of this simple, enjoyable life, he was able to get past it now. The voice would say “this is way too nice for you, you don’t deserve any of this”, he was able to, for the most part, smile and think back, “yeah, and aren’t I lucky I get it anyway?” and most of the time, it helped. On days that it didn’t, Tyson stepped in instead, told him anything he needed to hear: “you deserve everything to be nice, you’re an angel” or “it’s a shitty apartment, not a castle, it isn’t ‘too nice’ for anyone,” or sometimes, when Elias couldn’t be convinced, “even if you don’t deserve it, I want you here with me”. It was starting to feel like today was going to be one of the days that Elias needed Tyson to be louder than that voice in his head, as he pushed himself to his feet with ease and felt bad about it. He tried to reassure himself, he told himself that Tyson was right in another room and all Elias had to do to feel better was go see him. That was easy, he could do that.

He would have done that, if right before he stepped toward the door he hadn't caught sight of a wine glass sitting on the dresser next to the bed. The glass was dirty with a rusty brown color, and Elias frowned and looked around the room before stepping closer to it. He was too afraid to pick it up (it still had some deep red wine at the bottom and Elias knew there was a chance that once it was in his hands it would end up as a stain on the floor) so instead he crouched down in front of it, inspecting the grime closely. It was hand shaped, surrounded by a couple of smudges and fingerprints here and there. It looked like blood.

“What the fuck!” Elias ticced, then, much quieter: “Ty?” As he stood straight, his stomach dropped and his head felt light and airy.

No more blood. No more blood. No more please, god, no more.

“Tyson!” He called louder this time, already feeling the familiar burning of panic clawing restlessly in his chest. There was no answer. His mouth and throat were a desert. His knees were shaking. There was blood in his room. Was he bleeding? He tried his best to keep his arms still enough for a moment to run them over his torso to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t even fucking hurt. “Pathetic,” he heard himself whimper, “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Ty-fucking pathetic- Tyson!” He stumbled back, away from the blood covered glass. Where was Tyson? Surely, Elias was being loud enough with his irritating shouting to get his attention, he would’ve come running, by now, with a comforting hug and reassurance and promises that Elias is safe and good and not dying.

The apartment was a crime scene straight out of a psychological thriller. Every few feet there were drops of blood on the hardwood, and then when he got the courage to look, he also saw that there was more smeared across the walls. As soon as he recognized it as more drying blood, he closed his eyes tightly, breathing picking up the longer he stood there. He tried to imagine Tyson’s voice teaching him how to calm his breathing: “Inhale, Eli. Deep, deep, all the way into the bottom of your lungs. Good.”

“Good boy, letting me cut you open like this. So pretty for me, all covered in blood.”

No more blood! No more fucking blood no more no more-

“Exhale now, baby.”

No more no more no more no more-

“Elias, breathe out. Stop holding your breath now.”

“You breathe when I allow you to breathe. I don’t think you’ve been behaving well enough for air.”

Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me!

With his shoulders held high and his head dropped toward the ground so that he could open his eyes without seeing the blood, he turned on his heel and threw himself back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, letting all the air out of his lungs in ragged sobs. Even then, it was hard to catch his breath in between his unintentional cries of “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Something deep in his gut made him swivel around and lock the door, and then he slid down it until he was on the floor. He covered his face with his hands, knees up to his chest to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like a nightmare, waking up alone in the middle of the day to find his walls covered in blood, only he just couldn't wake up. “Tyson...Ty...fuck...Tyson…” he crawled across the room, toward his phone, left on the charger next to the bed all night. His fingers were trembling as he tapped in his password, then still as he found Tyson’s contact to call him. As he waited what felt like an agonizingly long time for the ringing to stop, he tucked himself in the corner of the room behind the bed. He made himself small, “pathetic,” so that any pain would be limited to his arms and his legs, and he wouldn’t be hurt so badly, at least.

He couldn’t wait for Tyson to start speaking once he answered the phone, only able to wait with bated breath until the long pause after the last ring.

Click.

“Tyson!” He sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to him like a lifeline. He felt like throwing up. “Ty-Tyson I need you to come ho-fuck-home, I need you to come home right fucking now! P-please-fucking shit- come home.” There was a soft, muffled, sigh on the other line, Elias let out another hoarse sob. “Where the fu-fuck are you?! I...I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. Tyson please, please co-come home, something’s wrong-”

“Calm down, Bunny.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO!

“You’re freaking yourself out way too much. You have a tendency to do that. It’s adorable, really.” August laughed, Elias almost threw his phone, barely stopping himself. “But not very helpful.”

“No…” Elias squeaked out. He craned his neck to look over the bed at the wine glass. August was here. Is he still here? Elias folded in on himself smaller, safer, more pathetic, “fucking pathetic!” He ticced. August laughed again. “N-no, please, August. Please don’t...don’t…”

August made a soft shushing sound, slightly softened by the static of the phone. Elias’s head always gets messed up when August acts like that, makes it feel like cotton candy and causes his chest to flutter in an agonizingly confusing way.

Sometimes he’s so nice to me I think, since I have no other choice, I’ll force myself to love him. Just so that my love doesn’t go unused. That way I’m not a waste of life completely.

“Stop working yourself up, sweetheart. Seriously, I want to have a conversation with you, you always do this.” He sighed, gruffly, with an air of boredom. “Pretty fucking annoying honestly.”

Sometimes I want to give him a bunch of his own stupid drugs and drag his ass down the stairs and chain him up and bleed him dry-

No more blood! No more blood!

Elias gritted his teeth, he tried to feel the scar on the back of his tongue, he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Where’s...Tyson?” He grumbled.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up!” August shouted.

Elias flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He didn’t think he heard an echo of his yell in the house. He listened, close, and could hear August’s voice distantly on the phone, but not out in the hall. Not distantly, in the living room or kitchen. He relaxed a little, straightened out his spine as he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“I was about to tell you all of that. I had a whole speech...Impatient little thing.”

Elias forced himself to his feet, took a few shaking steps for the door. He didn’t turn the lock, not right away, shaking hand hesitating over the brass knob. “If y-you hurt him I’ll-”

Again, August chuckled cynically at Elias’s stammering, his false braveness, his beginning to an empty threat. Elias cringed hard. He wanted to hang up the phone and crawl back into bed, fall asleep, and then wake up from this nightmare to find Tyson next to him. But he wasn’t in a nightmare, and his apartment was covered in blood, and Tyson was gone.

“This would be so much easier for all three of us if you just listened, Bunny. Can you be a good boy and listen closely for a second?”

Embarrassingly, Elias felt his knees buckle at the words, and he reflexively nodded at August’s voice.

I’ll do anything you ask, just call me good, just stop hurting me, I’ll do whatever you want.

When August spoke again, Elias could hear the smile to his voice without even seeing him. “Perfect, sweetheart. Now, I need you to do everything I say, ok? Tyson will be just fine if you just do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” Elias whimpered, pressing his forehead against the door to try and steady himself, “God fucking d-dammit-”

“Shh, Bunny. Take a deep breath.” Somehow, August had added some sort of softness to his words, making himself sound caring and gentle and human, and it made Elias even angrier.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar!

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, just because he was told to, just because it was August’s voice telling him what to do, and it was easier to just listen to whatever he was told the first time rather than face the ugly alternative.

“I left my car keys on your kitchen counter, my car is right out front. Full tank of gas, it drives beautifully, by the way. Can I trust you to take care of it when you drive it over here?”

Elias unlocked the door with his breath still held, shuffling out into the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at the blood on the wall, and his stomach churns terribly. Before he could even process it, his shoulder hit the wall as he stumbled to the side.

I love you so much it hurts.

Elias would prefer the freezing blanket of death over the paralyzing fear he felt reading that.

We’ll be together forever.

He could never get away. No matter where he went or what he did, August would find him, August would destroy him. Maybe it would be easier to just hand himself over to the wolves instead of trying to outrun them.

You’re mine, Bunny.

There were scars everywhere on Elias’s body that validated that, there was a switch in his brain that flipped every time someone sounded too much like August that also proved it, Elias belonged to him now, even when he was far away from him.

“I asked you a question, baby. Will you take care of my car?”

“You’re fucking c...crazy.” Elias cast his eyes back to the ground, pushing himself off of the wall and stumbling out to the kitchen. He found the keys August was talking about. Thinking about August in the apartment, helping himself to a glass of wine, tossing his keys onto the counter, made Elias sway where he stood.

There was a groan on the other line. August was annoyed, Elias would have to pay for that. “I know that, idiot. You don’t think I fucking know that?” A sigh, a soft thud in the back, a small laugh. “Just get here, ok? The address is written on a paper in my car. You might want to hurry, Tyson’s waking up and he’ll be wondering where you are. And if you take too long...he’ll be wondering why you didn’t come rescue him.”

He laughs.

Elias wants to kill him.

Click.

18 notes · View notes

kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Text

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

55 notes · View notes

ruinouss-archived · 3 years

Text

Another job, another poor S.O.B to track and kill. Typically, she’d take more pride and enjoyment in the hunt and the opportunity for a new client. However, this new one had quickly managed to crawl under her skin like a festering infection that had her blood boiling hot and her stomach churning in a violent rage. He was everything disgustingly stereotyped in men and then amplified. He spoke in a condescending tone despite her ferocious and spotless reputation, stripped her bare with his eyes as he beckoned her closer like some mongrel, and figuratively swung his dick around to assert his dominance. Though, if he had the slightest inkling he could even get her in bed she was certain he’d whip it out his pants for real. Luckily, that didn’t didn’t seem their case. It was best to allow him to continue thinking she was only interested in women (Hell, after him she may just swear off men).

So why work with such a disgusting man? Well, she needed work. Had she not been hurting for money she would have never taken him up on the offer. But she unfortunately was. The only bright side to this was he was a man with fat pockets that was willing to pay the price. All she had do was kill some poor guy who went by Professor Pig. No, that wasn’t it. Pyg. With a Y not an I. Oh, but how she loathed her current boss. There was a hope the target would try and buy his way out. As long as the price was matched she’d take him up on the offer.

Her hunt had lead her to an unfamiliar part of Gotham and into a house of horrors she’d be more than happy to leave. The place was crawling with grotesque, bloated looking abominations that were hard to take down and even harder to kill. With the alarm bells already risen she chose her best bet was to avoid the disfigured creatures and focus on catching the mad man behind their botched operations.

Moving through the labyrinth of halls and rooms, avoiding creatures was fun in its own way. The prize, be it killing Pyg or killing her client, would be worth it in the end. It took some time but she finally managed to corner the man, locking him in a large room with the only way out through her. Her heart raced as her lips pulled back in a wide grin, fingers flexing around the grip of the pistol.

“You’re a hard man to get to. Your ,,, employees are very persistent about you not being disturbed,” she spoke coolly as raised her gun so it was at her chest level, pointed at him. Her lips puckered out as she stared at the expressionless pig mask. Creepy. “But I’m a busy woman and I rather make this quick as I’m sure my client is getting wasted and I don’t want to arrive with him shitfaced and more grabby and bold than he already has been. So, any last words?”

Please. Make it worth my while.

Semi plotted starter for @susperfectus

#Susperfectus #v| Some Just Want to Watch the World Burn

13 notes · View notes

365days365movies · 3 years

Text

May 1, 2021: The Prestige (2006) (Recap: Part One)

What’s that old Arthur C. Clarke quote again?

Not that one, although that’s...that’s fantastic, and I need to know more context to that conversation. But no, no, not that. The other one.

Not that one, although that’s...horrifying. Let me explain something first, then. Clarke was the author of the classic science-fiction novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, which definitely didn’t go on to become one of the most widely regarded films of all time. Anyway, he was a big-shot in science fiction, and was even knighted for his prominence in pop culture in the UK and across the world.

Fellow famous sci-fi author Isaac Asimov is well known for three rules of robotics, but Clarke has three rules of his own. A futurist, his laws describe conjecture about scientific development in the future of out societies. Those laws are:

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

Magic, huh?

God, I love Weird Al. Anyway, as a child of the ‘90s, I am well-acquainted with the boom of stage magicians that appeared during that time, and during the early 2000s. David Copperfield made the Statue of Liberty disappear, David Blaine coughed up a live frog, Criss Angel freaked minds; lot of stuff back then.

And yet, despite other recent magicians like Penn and Teller or Dynamo, the greatest age of stage magic isn’t even CLOSE to the 90′s. No, no, to really see magic in its heyday, we need to go back to the late 1800s and early 1900s, to the days of the stage illusionist.

Obviously, the first person that comes to mind is Harry Houdini, a man whose feats have lasted the test of time, and may have led to his death. Not only did he get buried alive, not only did he escape from a straitjacket in chains underwater, NOT ONLY did he hold his breath inside a water-filled milk can inside of a wooden chest repeatedly for FOUR YEARS, but he was also the greatest enemy of spiritualists and mediums everywhere!

Yeah, despite being a stage magician, Houdini was OBSESSED with exposing those who claimed to be actually supernatural. After all, as a showman, he was interesting in exposing tricks that were meant to defraud the innocent public. Dude was awesome, is what I’m saying. He died from a burst appendix, which miiiiight have been caused by a student who punched him in the stomach after asking if he was actually resistant to abdominal damage. Yeah, not a great death. And he wasn’t the only illusionist to die of tragic circumstances, but that’s a discussion for another day. Because of this is sci-fi month...why am I talking about magic? Well...imagine a lighter.

Now image that you went back 5,000 years, to any civilization, and showed them a lighter. The ability to create fire with seemingly nothing but your bare hands? You’re basically a wizard! Fire from no visible fuel? TEACH ME YOUR WAYS, O SORCERER OF THE FLAME!!! And that’s just a goddamn lighter.

What about a light bulb? Light from energy you’ve harnessed from metals and from the air itself? Jujube! A camera? With the ability to capture a moment in time in the form of a tangible image? WITCHCRAFT!!! A smartphone? A FUCKING SMARTPHONE???

And so, in celebration of the blurring of magic and science...why not start this month with an unconventional form of science fiction, huh? Something that blurs magic and science in a way that’s indistinguishable. And so, I can FINALLY watch a movie that I’ve wanted to watch for YEARS!

I am so excited, and this is a hell of a way to kick off the month! Why this? Well, I’ll explain that later. But for now...LET’S DO THIS.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Recap (1/2)

There are three acts of magic.

First is “the pledge”, where the magician shows something normal. Then, there’s “the turn”, which is when the ordinary becomes extraordinary. And finally, there’s the act of bringing the show full-circle; bringing back a disappeared object, in a new way and with a new technique. That final act, the showmanship, the establishment of the mystery, is called “the prestige”.

So is told to us by John Cutter (Michael Caine), keeper of canaries and stage engineer to magicians, via narration abut magic. Intercut with that narration, and with a disappearing canary trick, is the presentation of an act being performed by Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman). In it, he turns on a machine using electricity, with lightning bolts flying freely. He steps inside of it, and disappears.

Meanwhile, coming from the audience, a man pretends to be part of the act, and goes backstage and underneath the machine. There, he witnesses Angier fall through a trap door into a water tank, unable to get out, panicking and drowning. Which is just super fun to watch, lemme tell you! And that is where the story starts.

The man from the audience was Alfred Borden (Christian Bale), who is quickly put on trial for the murder of Angier. A rival of his during the 1890s and early 1900s, Borden is sent to jail, and sent to death by hanging. This is as his young daughter watches on. In court, Alfred testifies against Bruce Wayne on how he murdered Wolverine, because this is all I could think of the entire time. Anyway, the court asks for more details on the trick that killed Angier, called “the Transported Man”. He refuses to divulge it publicly, but agrees to tell it to one of the judges in secret.

In prison, Borden’s visited by a representative of a wealthy collector of items, Lord Caldlow. He asks if he will sell him his most prominent trick, the “Transported Man”. But Borden also refuses, as it’s HIS trick. Still, in response, the man gives Borden a journal of Angier’s’, and asks him to think about selling the secret. And from there: flashback!

Angier is on a train, heading to Colorado Springs, where he’s surprised to see that the whole town has electricity. His plan is to go up the mountain, which is closed for scientific experimentation. Which isn’t ominous at all! That completely banal revelation is followed by a walk up the mountain in the fog, past a fence that says no trespassing and LITERAL WARNING SIGNS.

There, he’s greeted by Alley (Andy Serkis), the assistant of the estate’s owner. Apparently, said owner made a machine for Borden, and Angier wants to learn the secrets. Another flashback, and we learn that Borden and Angier, rival magicians now, met a long time ago at the show of another magician, both volunteering to tie up the female assistant, Julia (Piper Perabo). Which would be creepy out of context, and then is creepy IN context when Angier kisses her thigh. Ew.

Anyway, they drop her into a tank, with a pretty stereotypical trick. After the show, we also learn that these two men are actually working for the magician, Milton (Ricky Jay), which makes that thigh kiss less creepy. Talking to Cutter and Julia, Borden mocks Milton’s trick, noting that the old magician won’t even try something like a bullet catch. Cutter mocks this idea, and asks if Borden has any better ideas. It’s around this time that Cutter suggests seeing Chung Ling Soo. Huh. I won’t say anything about that until later.

Or right now! And, uh...oh shit, this is extraordinarily awkward. Here’s the thing: this is NOT Chung Ling Soo. I know this for two reasons. One, Soo didn’t really pretend to be crippled, as Borden and Angier suggest. Wasn’t really his bag. But something that IS interesting about the guy is how he died! BULLET CATCH TRICK!! Yup! He tried the bullet catch trick, and he died when the bullet actually fired at him! Yeah, awkward.

And you know what else is awkward, and really different from this story? Chung Ling Soo was...not Chinese. Even a little bit. His real name was William Ellsworth Robinson, he married his assistant, cheated on her with another assistant, never divorced and still married his new assistant illegally, etc. He was an interesting guy. Ignoring, y’know, the whole disgustingly shitty yellow-face thing. Different times, unfortunately.

Borden’s frustration with an act he considers boring and obsolete erupts during one of Milton’s shows, where we see him KILL A BIRD, FUCK ME MAN. Yeah, I get it, Borden, this is terrible! This coincides with meeting a young woman and her nephew, who is also upset to see a bird die in front of him. The woman is Sarah (Rebecca Hall), and the two start a romance. Meanwhile, the romance between Angier and Julia is a straight-up marriage, making that thigh kiss fare more understandable. And, the two are about to have a baby, to both of their delight! Nothing bad will happen now!

We flash forward to the future, where Cutter is showing the judge what’s what with the device. He claims that a wizard built it, and that the machine can actually do what magicians have only pretended to do for years. They also look at a tank, and Cutter reveals that the tank has a terrible history, especially for the two magicians.

Flashback again, to a night of yet another show. That night, Milton and the group go through with their trick, as per usual. However, Borden decides to make it a little tougher and more exciting by tying a different knot this time. And unfortunately...Julia can’t untie it. They try to get her out in time, but alas...it’s too late.

Julia dies, and Angier blames Borden, who isn’t even entirely sure if he tied the knot that killed Julia...allegedly. Not a big fan of Borden right now. The act is over, and Borden decides to split off and do his own act, calling himself “the Professor”. Now having a child of his own with Sarah, he decides to do a bullet trick, with the help of new stage engineer, Fallon. But this is a tricky trick to perform. And the understandable mental breakdown of Angier causes its own problems.

See, during one of Borden’s shows (which is going TERRIBLY), a disguised Angiers shows up and loads a REAL bullet into the gun for the trick, and BLOWS OFF TWO OF HIS FINGERS FUCK ME!!! Borden’s not exactly happy about this, but he recovers quickly. Shortly after, Cutter finds Angier at a bar, and offers him the opportunity to make a new show of his own. Reluctantly, he accepts, and takes up the moniker “the Great Danton”, a name that his late wife suggested.

With a new bird/cage trick, one that lets the bird LIVE (THANK YOU), they’re almost set. But they also add a new assistant, in the form of...Black Widow. I mean, sorry, Olivia Wenscombe (Scarlett Johansson). Yeah, um...Wolver, Alfred Pennyworth, and Black Widow are working together in competition against Batman. Also, Gollum is in the movie, too. God, what’s next, David Bowie?

Anyway, the show is on once again, and Angier asks for some volunteers in the audience. But, uh oh! One of them is Borden in disguise, and he sabotages the trick in front of EVERYBODY, breaking an audience member’s fingers, and killing the bird, completely fucking up Angier’s career, in revenge for his fingers. Oh, also, MOTHERFUCKER YOU KILLED HIS WIFE (maybe)!!! Doesn’t justify Angier shooting off your fingers, but you could’ve just let bygones be! No wonder you’re rivals in the future! Batman’s a dick (which, given Christian Bale, isn’t that surprising).

Well, since his trick, Angier’s fucked. They’re kicked out of the theater, and in need of a new act. Cutter suggests that Angier goes to the upcoming science exposition for ideas. And yes...that’s where the science fiction angle starts in. See, like Clarke said, any science that’s sophisticated enough LOOKS like magic to audiences who don’t understand it. And Borden has the same idea, as he also heads to the expo.

It’s there that a presentation of a massive electrical generator is being held, with the machine having been invented by...Nicola Tesla! YO!

I don’t think I need to tell anybody about Tesla at this point, but he was a brilliant physicist and inventor from the early 1900s. His legendary Current War with Thomas Alva Edison for the current to be used by the United States (Tesla’s DC vs. Edison’s AC) is the stuff of science legend...and is a conflict that the far less charismatic Tesla lost. Still, his mastery of electricity (such as the above Tesla coil) is remembered today. If you want to go sightseeing, check out New York! In Niagara Falls, he’s got a massive statue overlooking the falls; and in Bryant Park in NYC, you can sit on the bench where he fed his beloved pigeons. Yeah, he loved pigeons, which I respect.

Anyway, the expo’s shut down due to presumed danger of the exhibit, possibly spurred on by Thomas Edison and his PR team. Which is pretty accurate, not gonna lie. Still, the experiment interests both Angier and Borden. Still, Angier doesn’t do much with this information. Right now, anyway.

Flash forward to Angier in Colorado Springs, and a group of men from Edison’s employ are there for some reason. But undeterred, Angier heads back to Tesla’s lab, where Alley shows him a gorgeous sight: lightbulbs dotting a field, making a gorgeous grid of light. He reveals that the source of the electricity is 15 miles away, as a testament to Tesla’s scientific genius. Stellar.

A great place to pause. See you in Part Two of this Recap!

20 notes · View notes

skorpiamynx · 3 years

Text

I feel like in all the shows I've watched, especially aimed to teen/young adult audiences, Zuko in A:LTA is the only abuse victim who got what he deserved - which sounds kinda mean? 'got what they deserved' is literally always said in a negative connotation - but he had THE SINGLE MOST SATISFYING STORY EVER. He got the fariest redemption, awell deserved redemption while still having to make amends and address the wrong things he's done.

In every other show, the abuse victim is written off tragically. They die or they become an asshole and are seen as 'irredemable'.

Well, here's the fucking truth of it: most characters in shows with a younger target audience are teenagers or at most early 20s. At those ages, it is nearly impossible to be completely irredemable. They have their whole lives ahead of them to make it right and change their ways. Even if the people they've hurt don't forgive them - and no one is guarenteed forgiveness, they can move on just like their victims and focus on making better choices later. People can fucking change, especially when still so young.

It is highly likely that abuse victims will at some point, in some way, repeat the cycle. In instances where they have little to no one in their corner, all they know is abuse, all they have to go on is what they're exposed to. At their core, they probably do know right and wrong but they don't know how to be good until someone shows them how to. If you think this sounds shitty, then you've been luck enough to escape the cycle and never meet an abuse victim. Even if you are one, you most likely had at least one good influence in your life showing you that there is a better way. Not everyone has that.

Zuko ONLY managed to redeem himself because of Iroh. If he didn't have Iroh, he would have been just as screwed as Azula, who did not get a redemtion because it never would have made sense. From childhood, every good influence she could have had turned their back on her - mom, Iroh, even Zuko - all she had was Ozai and those creepy old ladies. Mai had Zuko, Ty Lee got away from her family and Azula and had Mai.

In Voltron, Lotor's abuse was barely even touched on. In one of his last moments of clarity, he is compared to his abuser in the worst way possible by the one person in the universe he thought could love him. Even with only having negative influences, he still tried to be good and ultimately wanted to achieve good.

I've said all I can say about Billy Hargrove in previous posts.

Titans has geared up to presumably kill off Jason Todd next season and bring in the Red Hood. They have built him up as a clear victim of abuse and neglect but has yet to actually acknowledge the alsting effects this has had on him in any way other than making him the asshole.

It is disgustingly common for abuuse victims in TV shows to remain victims the whole time and eventually end in a dispicable way.

#tw abuse #avatar the last airbender #zuko #azula #voltron legendary defender #prince lotor #stranger things #billy hargrove #titans #jason todd

41 notes · View notes

flightsoffandom · 4 years

Text

Co-Conspirators Part 4

Pairs: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 7558

Summary: Strauss forces you and Hotch to talk to an UnSub that you would be much happier to forget existed. Even with Hotch’s protests Strauss orders you both to go. Once there things don't go exactly how either of you expected.

Warnings: Canon Criminal Minds level violence, Stalker-ish and creepy UnSub, vague mention of non-depression related self harm, and cussing.

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral. Was a good chunk of this chapter inspired by Season 3 Episode 14, ‘Damaged’, the scene where Hotch is ready to fist fight an UnSub to protect himself and Reid? Yes, yes it was. Took me a minute to write this because I wanted to do certain feelings in this chapter justice, hopefully it all came through and makes sense. Feel free to tell me if it didn't turn out as good as I intended it to be.

Continuation of Co-Conspirators – Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4*–Part 5–Part 6

After Aaron and Jack spent the night, your relationship progressed further. Not much changed, considering how busy you both were. But any extra time you both had was spent with each other. You knew that your feelings for him had grown, approaching the realm of love. You weren’t going to express those emotions, though. At least not first since you weren’t sure exactly what Aaron’s feelings were. While you knew Aaron was serious about this relationship, you wanted to wait for him to take the emotional confession lead. After all he had been through Aaron deserved to take things at whatever pace he needed too. It was a good thing you and Aaron had going. Even with having to keep the relationship a secret, it just worked between you two. You started staying at Aaron’s apartment more and more. Jack really seemed to enjoy having you around more often. You relished spending more time with Jack as well. Seeing him and Aaron interacting together and being able to spend time with them both was enough to make you forget about whatever horrible thing you had seen while on a case. Between hotel stays, while traveling for work and staying with Aaron, you barely made it back to your apartment anymore. You didn’t find yourself missing your place all that much. You did manage to get Aaron and Jack to stay the night at your place again once or twice, but it felt more like a vacation home of sorts than your own. Staying at Aaron's had become your happy little normal over a handful of months that helped relieve the burdens of work.

You were currently sitting in Hotch’s office with the door closed. Usually, this could have a chance at being a fun time, but considering Strauss was closed in here with the both of you. It was far from a good time. Hotch was irritated and couldn't completely hide it from his voice, “We won't be going.” You bounced your leg nervously, just listening instead of interrupting the conversation. Both Strauss and Hotch were staring each other down as he continued speaking, “The team has another case. We are needed there.” Strauss still hasn't sat down yet, a power move on her part, “You both have been specifically requested. He refuses to talk to anyone else.” Hotch tenses up and is about to argue. Strauss cuts him off. She starts walking out, “That’s an order.” Strauss opens the door and stops, looking back at both of you, “For BOTH of you.” The door slams closed behind her, leaving both you and Hotch sitting together in silence. Your leg had not stopped bouncing even after Strauss left. Which Hotch easily noticed even as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Hotch sighs, “You don't have to-” You stop him, “Yes, I do. WE both do.” You weren't happy about this. You were extremely anxious. With anger right behind it, trying to fight to be your dominant emotion. Hotch looks up at you. His face had softened since Strauss left. However, his brow was still furrowed, and he looked beyond annoyed. Hotch watched you, “We don't have to give him the satisfaction…” You stand up, “I don't plan on letting him scare me into not being able to do my job. Let’s go pay Ben Monte a visit and see what the asshole has to tell us.”

Ben Monte. Ben was a particular sore spot with you. He was an unsub from a year or so ago. Ben had killed eighteen people before the BAU got called in. He was tricky because he didn’t care about race, age, or sex. Ben enjoyed cutting people up while they were still alive and toying with their organs while they could feel it. He chose victims seemingly at random. Only later to find out that Ben liked taking people with strong and stubborn personalities. Unfortunately, that means Ben set his sights on you after you and Hotch pulled him in for an interrogation but didn't have any evidence to hold him on. Luckily for you, though, by the time Ben tried to make his move to get you, the team was ready to arrest him. You willingly agreed to go as bait to lure Ben out, and he fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. But Ben Monte shot you moments before the team could grab him. Ben had never used a gun before, so you hadn’t been wearing a vest. You spent a few days in the hospital but were able to recover without too many issues. There were some nightmares, but you had put the whole thing behind you. That was until Ben Monte claimed he had other unfound victims and refused to speak to anyone but the team who originally interrogated him. Meaning you and Hotch. You weren't thrilled about it, but if Ben was telling the truth and you could get the information out of him. Then you would suck it up and talk to the monster again.

After the first in-prison interview of sorts, that's when you learned just how much Ben Monte ‘liked’ you. Ben was disgustingly infatuated with you. Since he had only gotten a chance to shoot you and watch you bleed, Ben clung to a fantasy of making you suffer more like he did with all his other victims. Which Ben loved describing in vivid detail to you in between answering the questions you asked him. Ben was so descriptive at times that you could picture the plans he had for you, and it made your stomach churn. You had enough self-control to keep yourself composed during that horrible conversation, but it took a toll afterward. Those scenarios Ben described to you had burrowed their way into your head. Hotch had witnessed you live through this before. Hotch had even seen the aftermath of that interview when you became so tired from the nightmares stopping you from sleeping. Seen the agitation that followed that had caused you to start more than a few fights when anyone questioned you. It took some mandatory therapy to get through it. So you could understand why he was so upset for you. While you appreciate him being so protective of you, you weren't going to let something like this stop you from bringing closure to the families of the victims.

Hotch went to tell the team where you both were going. You went right down to the van, getting into the passenger seat. Normally you wouldn't mind driving, but you didn't think it was a good idea at the moment. Trying not to think about it too much, you try forcing yourself to think about anything else. Aaron gets into the car, takes one look at you, and decides not to start the vehicle. He looks at you, “Do you want to talk about it?” You make a curious humming noise, trying to feign ignorance, “Talk about what?” Aaron scowls at you, “The reason you're holding your side and who we are about to go talk to?” You look down, and indeed your hand had gravitated to your side. You were pressing right on the scar Ben gave you. Consciously realizing what you were doing makes the dull pain in your side come to the front of your senses. You let out a long sigh, “I don't want to talk about it right now…” You frown and look out the window as you finish speaking, “After this little… interview… I’ll probably still not want to talk about it, but I will need to.” You feel Aaron’s hand wrap around the one covering your long healed wound. Your breath catches in your throat, and you tighten your hand around his. Your emotional composure wavered a bit. You knew you couldn't bury your feelings inside forever. You wanted to make it through this accursed trip. Knowing it will at least turn into temporary anger, which would work to your benefit while talking to Ben Monte.

Aaron left his hand in yours even as he started driving. It was silent for a while. Since it was going to be kind of a long drive, you didn't want it to stay quiet. That would give you too much of a chance of getting lost in your thoughts. So you turned back to Hotch, “Let’s talk about something.” Aaron quickly glances at you with an eyebrow raised, “What’s strategy should we go in with?” You laughed when Aaron went right into talking about work, “Nope, we aren't going to talk about work. Not right now.” Aaron flatly states, “We are on the clock.” You roll your eyes, “We've never needed a strategy while interrogating together before.” You lean your head back, “Plus, what kind of work are we supposed to do in a car for like three hours?” Hotch glares over at you. You respond with a whine, “Please just indulge me… the person you happen to be dating by the way…” Aaron’s face softens even as he rolls his eyes, “Resorting to emotional blackmail?” You nod and give him a smug smile, “Anything to get my way.”

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head, “What would you like to talk about then?” You let out a pleased hum, “We should go see a movie soon, take Jack with us and completely turn our phones off. Maybe even leave them at home or in the car, so we don't get called in…” You let yourself trail off. Aaron’s hand tightens around yours, showing some concern. You look out the window, watching the scenery as you add, “Maybe we could take a vacation… somewhere fun…” You can feel his eyes watching you, so you turn to look at him, “What?” Aaron tries to study your face while still driving safely. After a moment, he finally speaks up, “Coming from the person who was so intent on going back to work after being shot that the hospital practically begged me to get you out of there? I think you can understand my cause for concern.” You sigh and nod, “Well, I’m a work-a-holic…” You smile, “But… Since being in a relationship with you, I find it a lot easier to push work aside so I can be with you and Jack.” A smile spreads across Aaron’s face. You playfully roll your eyes, “Don’t let it go to your head. I still enjoy catching bad guys, and I don’t see that drastically changing anytime soon.” Aaron brings your hand up to his face to place a kiss on the back of your hand, “I wouldn't have it any other way.” You smile as you and Aaron start talking about mundane potential plans.

Whatever pleasant conversion you were having with Hotch abruptly stopped when you saw the sign on the side of the road, stating that the prison was only a few miles away. Even if you wanted to continue talking, you couldn't have. Considering your mind went completely blank about what you had just been discussing. Your whole body tenses up, feeling the meeting looming over your head. Your leg starts to bounce. Letting your anxiety out now so you can focus when you get inside the prison. When Hotch parks, your hand separates from his. You practically leap out of the car. Taking a deep breath of fresh air in order to calm yourself. Hotch walks over and waits, letting you take your time. You close your eyes. Pushing all your emotions down and bringing your professional demeanor to the surface. Once you feel as prepared as you’ll ever be, you head up to the prison's main door. You can't help but comment, “I don't understand Ben Monte’s obsession with us.” Hotch follows behind and scoffs, “Unfortunately, he just has an obsession with you. He tolerates me because he knows I won't let you talk to him alone.” You sigh, knowing Hotch was right. Once through the door, you are the one who takes the lead on the introductions, “SSA’s [Y/L/N] and Hotchner.” The guards look over the sheet checking for your names. You start pulling the gun off your belt before they even ask, knowing the drill. Hotch does the same, even taking his second gun out and handing it over.

You felt a bit exposed and vulnerable, but you didn't let yourself dwell on it. Hotch already looked more tense than usual, which was saying something. The guards guided you through the signals to get in and out of the room you would be interviewing Ben Monte in. Once that was understood, both you and Hotch were led into the room. As soon as you saw Ben’s face, you internally started panicking, but you knew how to control every expression and your demeanor. So you kept yourself in check. The door closed behind you both, locking the three of you into a room together.

Instantly Ben Monte lurched towards you, his chains getting caught on the table, “My, My. Look at you. My favorite little canvas.” You stare Ben down, showing only indifference at his statement. You pull the chair at the table out and sit down, “I’m not here to play games… You said you had information for us. If you're wasting my time, then I will leave.” Hotch was standing behind you, glaring down at Ben. Ben looked from Hotch to you, “Ohh… I have so much information for you, but I’ve missed you so much. I’ve only had crime articles you were featured in to sustain me. They don’t take enough pictures of you. I’ve only been able to collect maybe a handful. I like to keep you close to me.” Ben reaches towards you, trying to touch you. You firmly respond, “No.” Ben freezes before pulling back, “You’re such a tease. Only showing me a little blood and then throwing me in here.” You continue your blank stare, “Information or I walk.” Ben grumbles, shifting about in his chair, “You are no fun.” When Ben starts giving you usable information, Hotch sits next to you and takes notes.

Ben stays mostly on topic until he starts talking about what he did to the victim. Ben looks you dead in the eyes, “With that little work of art, I worked too fast. Wasn't as fun.” Ben grins at you, showing all his teeth menacingly, “I learned after that. Taking my time. Like I am with you.” Every part of you wants to tense up and hit Ben in the face, but you control yourself. Ben keeps talking, “I have so many plans for you. Peeling your skin away nice and slow. Maybe even giving it time to grow back. Scars can be exciting things…” Ben lets himself trail off, staring right where he shot you. Hotch tenses up, staring daggers at the serial killer in front of you. You sigh, “This is tedious Ben, if you really called us out here to just play with us, then I will make sure you aren't allowed visitors for the rest of your life.” Ben glares at you this time, “I like the mouth on you, but it only goes so far. Do you think you could still bitch this much if I cut your tongue out?” Hotch speaks up for the first time during the interview, “You will watch how you speak to my agent. We are here as a courtesy to the families of your victims. Not to be part of whatever sick fantasies you have.” Hotch’s voice was loud and stern, intimidating enough to get Ben to comply again. Ben begrudgingly gives you more details about a few other murders he committed.

After giving you some more useful information, Ben slowly gets off topic again, “I've never been one for guns. You're the only work of art I’ve ever shot.” You glare at Ben, “I’m not a work of art, and neither were your victims. You don't own or control anyone.” Ben starts laughing, “Are you sure about that? Maybe I don't own my other playthings… but you… I think me and you share a special connection.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “We don’t have a connection. You're not the first person who has shot me, and I am sure you won't be the last.” Ben laughs louder, utterly pleased with himself, “I am sure that's true, but me and you share a mark.” Ben doesn’t elaborate further but instead goes into talking about other things, “After you locked me into this place, I’ve had loads of time to think about what I would do to you when I get out of here.” This actually pulls a laugh out of you, “You’re not getting out of here… ever.” You cross your arms, smirking, “I made sure the court gave you life without parole.” Ben doesn’t look overly pleased about your attitude, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I was thinking about cutting you open and poking around inside you.” You show no expression, trying not to think about what Ben says, “Are you done telling me about your other victims then?” Ben doesn't answer. He just continues his psychopathic rambling, “Think you would feel it if I pulled some of your insides to the outside?” Ben went into further detail, being graphically descriptive as he kept going. You felt your stomach churn even as you stared Ben down like you weren’t affected.

Hotch, however, was finished with the games, “That's enough. We are done here.” Hotch stands up quickly, pushing himself away from the table and going to the door. You make no additional acknowledgment to Ben. You just casually raise from your seat and walk to the door. Hotch presses the button to get out. The tone plays, and you wait. Nothing happens. Ben starts laughing again, clapping as he does, “It’s lunchtime. The guard who is supposed to be out there has a real problem of being a chatty Cathy after he gets his food. So you're both stuck with me a while longer.” Hotch tenses up again but turns around ever so slowly, “Is that supposed to scare us? We have dealt with much worse than you.” Ben shrugs, “It should at least unnerve you both. Since I get to keep talking about what I want to do with our favorite little agent.” You turn around, ready to speak up, but then you notice Hotch’s behavior. Hotch went from tense to calm, which wasn't a great sign.

Hotch confidently takes his suit jacket off, before pulling off his necktie in one solid motion. He stands on the outskirts of the room, watching protectively. Hotch stares down Ben the whole time. You couldn't lie to yourself, Hotch’s overly aggressive behavior did make you feel better. Aaron would have never let anything happen to you before when you were just co-workers and friends, but now that you were more than that, there was no way in hell Aaron was going to sit by and watch someone treat you like this. Ben was still smirking and didn't even bother looking at Hotch. Ben just kept looking right at you, “Do you remember when I shot you?” You look at Ben and shrug at him, “It wasn't really that memorable. I’ve been shot before, so you shooting me isn't anything special.” Ben menacingly chuckles, “I remember every second of it. You bleed so well.” Hotch steps closer to him, ready to restrain Ben if need be. He tilts his head, gazing right through your shirt to the spot of the scar he gave you, “I only wish I could have watched for longer…” Ben looks back up at you, “It was hard to manage in prison, but I was able to give myself a little souvenir…” Ben stands up. Hotch, in one quick motion, pins Ben to the wall. Hotch had Ben held to the wall with his forearm on Ben’s throat. Hotch practically growls as he speaks, “I’ve had enough of you threatening my agent.” Ben seemed to enjoy Hotch’s reaction causing him to laugh.

Ben’s laugh was a spine chilling sound. It didn't help that it echoed in the concrete interrogation room. Hotch kept Ben in place, but that didn't stop Ben’s hands from moving. You quickly stood up, ready to help restrain the monster if he tried anything. Ben, however, had another plan in mind. A huge toothy grin spreads over Ben’s face as he lifts the fabric for his prisoner uniform shirt. Revealing practically a mirror image of your own scar on Ben’s body. Your blood turned to ice, and you couldn’t control the fact that your eyes widened. Ben reminisced and traced his fingers over his scar, “It took a lot of effort to get a gun from one of the guards and shoot myself. It was worth it, though…” Ben looks up with his eyes meeting yours, “Now we are connected…” Your so far maintained composure started to shatter. Hotch pushed his arm harder against Ben’s throat. You dug your fingernails into the palms of your hand, hoping it will help keep you grounded as you spoke, “We are not connected. Clearly, you put a lot of thought into wasting your time.”

The best you could do was temporarily dissociate with what was happening, so you didn't give Ben the satisfaction of your emotional response. You stare blankly at the prisoner pinned to the wall, “Prison hasn't been good for your memory… That’s not even where you shot me.” It was a bold-faced lie, but it had the desired effect. Ben’s grin falls off his face, and he glares at you, “Prove it.” You stick your hands into your pockets, scoffing, “I don’t have to prove anything to the likes of you… I already proved you were guilty in a court of law. That's good enough for me.” You are able to force a smile onto your face. This causes Ben to get belligerent, starting to fight against Hotch’s hold. Hotch doesn't flinch and keeps Ben in place. Ben keeps struggling, “Show me then! Prove it!” You didn't know how much longer you could keep the act up, so you decided to give the exit door another shot. You press the buzzer and hear the sound, waiting a moment.

By some miracle, the guard had come back. The guard looked more than confused, “What the hell happened?” You moved out the door without saying another word. You hear Hotch drop Ben to the ground. Immediately Ben starts screaming, and the guard has to restrain Ben. Hearing Ben’s chains yank against the table, “SHOW ME! PROVE IT!” Ben Monte kept repeating this. Even after the room door closed, you could still hear his voice through the walls. Hotch stays behind for a moment, and you overhear him yelling at someone, “Get your damn employees in line. When two agents… fuck when anyone is in a room with a prisoner, you NEVER leave that room unsupervised!” You stopped at a gated checkpoint to wait for Hotch while listening to what was going on. There was a short pause which could only be for the person making an excuse. Because Hotch went right back to yelling, “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” There was another pause before Hotch spat out, “Good.” Then you heard him walking down the hall. While you were waiting, that’s when you first noticed it, the dull pain in your side. You press the heel of your hand into your scar in hopes of stopping the pain somehow. You look back when you hear Hotch walking up to you. Hotch still looked stiff, with his suit jacket and tie thrown over one of his arms. The crumpling pad of paper in his hand showed that Hotch was beyond pissed, but when he saw you were looking at him, he automatically softened up.

While waiting for the guard on the other side of the gate to let you through, Aaron looked down at you, “Are you okay?” You stared at him for a moment, “I don’t know how to answer that right now.” It came out in a much flatter and distant tone then you had planned. You felt a bit numb like you hadn’t fully processed what you just experienced. So you didn’t know how you felt. The only thing you knew for sure was that no matter how much pressure you put on your scar, the pain was getting worse. Aaron further furrowed his brows, and he tried to gauge your overall well being. The automatic door swung open and you walked through it before Aaron had too much of a chance to study you.

The rest of the walkout was silent until you reached the last checkpoint where you could collect your guns before leaving. While the guard was giving you back your items, Aaron stopped before collecting his, “I need to go talk to the warden.” Even feeling as weird as you did, you knew Aaron shouldn’t need to talk to the warden. It didn’t take long for you to figure out Aaron was trying to protect you from further dealings with Ben Monte. Aaron was about to order the warden to ignore any future requests from Ben Monte to speak with you. So you look over and question him, “Why?” Instead of answering, Aaron tries to hand you the car keys. You don’t take them. You narrow your eyes at Aaron, but he doesn’t say anything. So you begrudgingly take the keys. When Aaron walks down the hallway, you wait for a minute before following him. You stay outside the warden’s office door. It could be considered eavesdropping, but it pertains to you and your job, so you didn’t see it as a bad thing.

You could hear the conversation through the walls. Hotch spoke first, “Starting today, you will be restricting Ben Monte’s media access. No more crime articles. Certainly, no information about the BAU. He said he has pictures of Agent [Y/L/N]. Find them. Make sure he is never able to get ahold of anything like that ever again.” You were glad about that part. Knowing Ben had pictures of you made your skin crawl. The warden responds, taken aback, “I… I’ll get that taken care of right away. Were you able to get any useful information out of him?” The pain in your side ramps up, causing you to wince. Hotch responds, “Maybe. We will have to look into it.” There is a short pause, “I will no longer let the BAU answer any requests to speak with Ben Monte. His obsession with my agent has been out of hand for long enough. Ben sees it as a reward of some kind. Strauss will be informed of the situation. Don’t even think about trying to go over my head again.” The warden stumbles over an apology of some kind before they can say anything else Hotch leaves. Hotch sees you and sighs, “You were supposed to go to the car.” You scoff and roll your eyes, “It involved my career, so I was going to listen in. Also, you know I’m a stubborn ass and have issues doing what I’m told.” This was able to pull the slightest smile out of Aaron. It doesn’t last long as he quickly spotted both your hand holding your side and the slight wince still on your face. The worried look falls back onto Aarons’s face.

Despite your surroundings, Aaron gently grabs the back of your neck. He leans down and pulls you closer to him, planting a kiss on your forehead. Surprisingly he holds you there for a second. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax a little bit. Some of the previous emotional numbness starts to leave you. Your body lets you become more emotionally vulnerable since you felt safe with Aaron. Feeling yourself go into the early stages of crying, you gently pull away. Aaron lets you go. Blinking rapidly, you were able to stop yourself from crying for the moment. The grimace that covered Aaron’s face was a giveaway that he saw the emotions on your face, not that you were doing particularly well at hiding them. Aaron gives you a gentle nudge so you can both finally leave this horrible place. You head out to the car while Aaron gets his firearms back from the guards.

Your subconscious mind seemed to know that prisons were a work area, so you had to control your emotions, but outside was a whole other story. As soon as you step outside the threshold, a new wave of emotions hit you. Your subconscious completely shuts down the emotional barrier that was letting you stay professional. The first feeling that hit you was nausea. You quickly get away from the prison before moving around the corner of a building so you could have a sliver of privacy. You were able to keep the nausea at bay. That was until you remembered the fact that you now had a brand linking you to Ben Monte. That’s when you lost it. You could handle a lot of the job. You had handled so much, but this made you feel violated. You got sick right then, bracing yourself on the wall. It took a few minutes for your body to stop. When your body ceases shaking, you stand there for a moment to regain your baring and catch your breath. Looking yourself over, you were lucky enough not to have gotten anything on you. You spit a few times to try to get the taste out of your mouth. You wanted out of here. You wanted to shower for more reasons than one. You turned the corner and saw Aaron automatically watching you as he stood by the car. You were catching the tail end of a conversation Aaron was having on the phone.

Aaron’s eyes followed you, “It was worse than I anticipated.” There was a pause, and you walked around to one of the car's back doors, opening it. Crossing your fingers that you had your go-bag in the vehicle. Aaron let out a sigh, “If you guys have the case handled, I don’t think I’ll be bringing them into work today. They need some time off.” You peaked up and glared at Aaron. He was still monitoring you through the car windows. You roll your eyes and finally find your bag, pulling it to you to dig through it. Aaron gives a slight nod as he responds, “Of course, I’ll stay with them to make sure they are alright.” You find what you were searching for, your bag of toiletries. You pull out your travel toothbrush and toothpaste and start brushing the awful acidy taste out of your mouth. Aaron keeps talking on the phone for a moment. You finish up by using your travel-sized bottle of mouthwash to rinse out your mouth. Spitting it out when you’re finished. You get into the passenger seat. Aaron was still on the phone and kept watching you. You glared at him as he did, but Aaron was utterly unfazed by it. When he finished talking, he got right into the car.

You immediately argued with him, “Aaron, I am not going to sit at my house while you and the team go and do work.” You sigh, “I will go stir crazy.” Aaron looked very unamused, “You need to take some time off. At least a day. I would prefer you to take more off.” You glare at him, “I am fine to go back to work. It wasn’t that bad. I don’t need any time off.” You were already more agitated than usual, and you knew it. But sitting at home by yourself with only your thoughts sounded like pure torture. Aaron stares you down, the stern face he normally wears at work showing, “You are taking today off.” You grumble, “Is that an order?” Hotch nods, “Yes.” He answers in a very stern tone, not leaving a whole lot of room for argument. You knew you were being entirely unreasonable, but that didn’t stop you, “As my boss or as my boyfriend?” Hotch closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Both.” Aaron sighs before looking at you with soft eyes, “Please.” You had more fight in you, but seeing Aaron’s face made you readily concede. You nod and huff, “Fine.” Moving in your seat and looking out the window. Silence filled the air as Aaron turned on the car and started driving.

Aaron didn’t let it stay silent for too long. Knowing you well enough that you would retreat into your head if it was quiet for too long. So Aaron was the first to speak up, “You know, I never said I was taking you to your place.” You had zoned out. His voice had pulled you back into reality. Not catching his whole sentence, you look over at Aaron and ask, “What?” Aaron looks at you, the ghost of a smile on his face, “I didn’t plan on taking you back at your apartment.” You make a confused face, which turns to annoyance. You immediately get belligerent again, “Ohh, yes, because sitting alone at your apartment would be so much better than sitting alone at my apartment.” Aaron glared at you, his annoyance starting to show again. You wish you could have said this was the first time you two talked to each other like this. It was admittedly one of the reasons you both got along so well. A pair of hard-headed assholes who could yell at each other without too many hard feelings. You glared right back at Aaron, “I appreciate the thought, I suppose, but I might as well just be at my place if I’m going to be all alone anyway.” Aaron’s glare intensifies, “Like I would leave you to your own devices even if I wanted to right now.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out what he means, “Isn't that what you were just saying?” Aaron’s voice became more stern, even raising his voice, “Would you just listen to me?” You let out a defiant huff but stay quiet. Aaron keeps the stern tone but lowers the volume, “You will be coming to stay at my apartment, AND I’ll be there with you.” Now you were a bit surprised, “You would ditch work just to babysit me?” Aaron’s face softens, “I wouldn’t call it babysitting. Offering emotional support, maybe?” You frown, “You’re not worried about someone on the team connecting the dots?” Aaron shrugs, “Actually Rossi brought up the idea first when I told him about the situation.” You whine and sigh, “How much did you tell Rossi?” Aaron glances over at you, “Enough.” You let out another whine and sink into your seat. Aaron watches you for a moment, “The team is worried about you. They care about you.” Being immature became one of your defaults when you were emotionally drained. So you made a fake disgusted noise, “Gross, feelings.” Aaron lets out a slight chuckle, “I care about you too.” You let a small smile slide onto your face, “That’s less gross.” Aaron adjusts his hands so he can drive with one hand on the steering wheel while his other hand reached over to you.

You took Aaron’s hand in yours. He gave it a comforting squeeze before getting serious again, “I’m going to have to write a report about what happened.” You groan, “Break the rules just this once? Pretend it never happened?” You knew Aaron would never, but you wanted to playfully give it a shot at least. Aaron shakes his head, “Unfortunately not. Especially since I am going to have to convince Strauss never to send us to see Ben Monte again.” At the mention of his name, you tense up. It wasn’t hard for Aaron to notice, your hand had tightened around his. Aaron gives you a worried look, “We should talk about what happened.” You groan, not wanting to but also knowing you need to. You give in, wanting to get this over with, “Will I be telling this to my boyfriend or my boss?” Aaron looks down at you for a moment, “Your boyfriend.” Aaron gives your hand another squeeze, “I’ll keep anything you tell me out of the report.” Aaron lets out a sigh before adding, “Unless it's something that could compromise your safety or others while you’re on the job.” You nod. Understanding that Aaron couldn’t bend the rules that much just for you and you were completely fine with that. You look out the window, “I know I shouldn’t be this affected by him, he only shot me. I feel like I have dealt with a lot worse. I feel stupid for letting him affect me this much.” Aaron starts running his thumb over the back of your hand, “You’re not stupid. He is overly obsessed with you. That can be very alarming.” Aaron lets out a long sigh, causing you to look over at him. Aaron had a sad look on his face, “Even before Foyet broke into my apartment and…” Aaron let it trail off, letting out another sigh. He skipped over whatever he was about to say to continue with the rest of it, “I was anticipating him making a move at any time. Knowing that someone like that is so fixated on you is not easy to handle mentally.” Aaron glances down at you, your eyes meeting for a moment, “I didn’t admit it to anyone even myself at the time, but it sure as hell affected me. I was only able to keep so much of it under control.” This time you give Aaron’s hand a squeeze returning the gesture he gave you earlier. Emotions were neither you nor Aaron’s strong suits, but you did find it much easier to be open around him. You’d like to think he felt the same way about talking to you as well.

Talking about Ben Monte made your old wound hurt. You just brushed it off as a subconscious correlation. Aaron seemed more worried about it, “You should get it checked out by a doctor.” You make a face, “It’s fine. I know it's just a mental reaction.” Aaron shook his head, “I think it's much more than a subconscious reaction, it had been hurting you since before we got to the prison.” You wave your hand at Aaron, ignoring him. You change the subject, “What I need is a shower and a change of clothes.” Aaron lets out a slightly annoyed sigh but lets you avoid the matter, “We will be home shortly.” You give Aarons hand another squeeze, “Good.” You let it stay quiet for a minute, “When you pick Jack up from school, let's do something fun.” Aaron glances over at you, “What are you thinking?” You shrug, “Anything to forget about today…” You think for a minute, “What about dessert for dinner and a lazy movie night?” Aaron narrows his eyes at you, “Dessert as the main meal?” You could tell he was going to shoot it down, so you decided to take the low road. You pout, “Please? It's been a really tough day. And imagine how cute Jack’s face will be when we tell him.” Aaron glares at you, “Really?” You stick your bottom lip out to pout more. Aaron shakes his head, a smirk on his face, “Fine. But…” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. Aaron adds, “Only if make an appointment with your doctor.” You grumble but accept it, “That seems about fair.” You smile at Aaron before falling into ideal chit-chat for the rest of the drive.

The car had to be dropped back off at the Bureau, but Aaron was kind enough to drop you off at his apartment first so you could shower. The time you spent alone was only twenty minutes, but it was enough time for the dark thoughts you had been suppressing to come back to the surface. It didn’t help that your scar practically taunted you the whole time you were showering. The healed skin was a mirror of what Ben had done to himself, creating a twisted connection with you. Sure, you had lied to Ben and taken away his satisfaction of being connected to you, but you knew the truth. You took a long shower, trying to wash away the sickening feeling that lingered over you. It only helped a little but not enough to lift the weight you felt in your chest. You got out of the shower and lazily dried off. You were more than ready to get dressed. Then you caught a glimpse of your scar in the mirror. It completely stopped you. You got stuck staring at your old injury, running your fingers over it as you tried to figure out what to do. You didn’t want it to look the same. You wanted to change it.

You got more absorbed into that train of thought then you would care to admit because you didn’t hear Aaron get back home or even hear him open the bathroom door. Aaron’s voice pulled you out of your own head, “Please don’t.” You startle for a moment before glaring over at him, “Don’t what?” You wrap your towel around yourself again and push past him. Aaron gives you a bit of space even as he keeps an eye on you, “I know what you’re thinking.” You were still on edge, so you just scoffed and started getting dressed. Aaron continues, “I can’t stop you. At least don’t do it yourself.” You huff and tug on your pajama pants, “Don’t do what myself? I wasn’t thinking about anything.” Aaron sighs and crosses his arms, “You were thinking about ‘correcting’ the look of the scar yourself.” He was dead on which shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still stopped you for a second. You shook your head before starting to pull your shirt over your head. In an attempt to ignore the fact he was right, you stayed quiet and turned away. It doesn’t take long for Aaron to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you. He pulls you into him, “I don’t want you to cause any more damage to yourself.” You sigh and lean back into him. Closing your eyes tight to hold in your emotions as you nod. Aaron kisses the top of your head, “Let’s go relax and forget about this for the moment.” You offer another nod. Aaron gently lets go of you, and you wipe away wherever tears were forming in your eyes. Aaron starts changing, and you take this opportunity to pour both of you a drink. By the time you got back out to the living room, Aaron was already sitting on the couch, watching something on tv. You set his drink down for him. Then you proceed to drape yourself over him pathetically. Straddling his lap as you sat down, leaning into his chest. Aaron just wrapped his arms around you and let you stay there as you lazily sipped at your drink. You stayed like that for a few hours until it was time for Jack to get off school. You kissed him before peeling yourself off of Aaron. Flopping back onto the couch so Aaron could grab his son. You lazily watched tv finally feeling more relaxed after spending some time with Aaron. When you heard the front door unlocking, you immediately perked up.

As soon as Jack ran into the house and saw you, all the events of the day seemed like a distant memory. Jack tackled you with a hug, excited that you were here. You found yourself smiling again as you and Aaron talked with the little boy about how his day was and what he learned. You broke the surprise to Jack about dessert for dinner. Jack was practically bouncing with excitement at the news. After dishing out healthy bowls of ice cream for all three of you, it was time to sit on the couch. It was such a lovely time as the three of you enjoyed each other’s company. Typically Jack always curled up with his father when he got tired, but as the night wound down this time, Jack came over to you. Jack climbed onto you and cuddled up with you. You looked down at him and held him close, rubbing his back as he started to drift off. For the first time today, you felt yourself getting emotional for a good reason. You slowly moved, so you were resting against Aaron. Aaron wrapped an arm protectively over the two of you, and you felt an overwhelming feeling of comfort and safety. The three of you sat like this for a few more hours until it was officially late enough to go to bed. You gently woke up Jack and helped him get ready for bed. Once Aaron had tucked Jack into bed, both you and Aaron went to lay down yourselves. You laid down, and Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close to him again. Feeling safe and secure, you were able to fall asleep with much more ease then you thought.

Continuation of Co-Conspirators – Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4*–Part 5–Part 6

@dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @winterparkers

@thosesteelblueeyesaremysafeplace

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #hotch x reader #reader insert #series #aaron hotchner #fanfiction #fanfic #co-conspirators

113 notes · View notes

aces-to-apples · 4 years

Text

Written for Day 4: Time-Travel of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek

Here on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: no betas we die like man, time-travel, Dehumanization, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Awful Treatment of Clones, Discussions of Murder, Ambiguous/Open Ending

“philter of the phantom”

CC-2224 knew that this would be its last mission for the Empire.

It was still in prime physical condition, a well-crafted piece of hardware meant to last through decades of wear and tear before beginning to break down, but its user-interface was considered suboptimal. A relic from a bygone era.

Creepy, was the word most often used to describe CC-2224. Look at him. His eyes follow you and the lights are on but nobody's home. It's doshing creepy.

Decommissioning was unavoidable, inevitable, imminent.

Its only hope was that it would be allowed to serve the Empire until its end.

When it had been informed that it was to retrieve an object of great importance for the Emperor, at any cost, CC-2224 knew its time of decommissioning had come. The mission would be more dangerous than the briefing implied and CC-2224 would fall in service of the Galactic Empire, just as it desired. Everything would be done.

As predicted in the back of its programming, the mission was a cockup from the beginning. They—CC-2224, its team of useless whiteshells, and the Inquisitor leading the mission—were led into an ambush after retrieving the Emperor’s property.

The whiteshells went down quickly, to no surprise and a great deal of disgust from CC-2224. Its brothers (good soldiers follow orders) would have been a better choice for the mission, for the army, but had been passed over.

Clones were no longer respected as the greatest fighting force in the galaxy. Their numbers had been dwindling ever since Kamino was shut down.

They were a dying breed.

But, dying or not, CC-2224 wasn’t dead yet.

It secured the objective and left the Inquisitor to deal with the—Separatists? No, there were no more Separatists—enemy forces by themself. A Jedi would have had no trouble, but the Jedi were traitors to the Repub—to the Empire—and the Inquisitor had been trained by the Emperor himself.

They would live or die as the Force willed, and CC-2224 had its orders: secure the objective, at any cost.

With the shuttle in sight and the Inquisitor inadvertently keeping the heat off of CC-2224, it broke from its defensive position and retreated in full. The screams of the dead and dying blotted out all other sounds, only cutting out as CC-2224 tripped over the threshold of the shuttle and sealed the door.

It sucked in a breath and stumbled to the cockpit, setting a course for the nearest Imperial forces before collapsing back into the pilot’s seat. CC-2224 sat there for a moment, confused as to why it was not moving, not completing one of the many tasks aboard even such a small vessel, before the realization struck.

Cold.

Its body quaked ever so slightly, sight greying out more and more every second, and it felt unbearably cold. It looked down at itself.

In the crook of one elbow lay the Emperor’s prize—a crystalline, geometric object that pulsed with a low-grade sense of malevolence—but something was wrong. Where before it had worn pristine white plastoid, it was now a bright and shocking hue of scarlet. Blood—a lot of it.

CC-2224 examined itself with a detached sort of curiosity, feeling faraway and uninterested. A quick pat-down of its torso quickly revealed the culprit and brought with it a flood of pain. One of the Sepa—Reb—one of the enemies must have been carrying a slugthrower. Unusual, unaccounted for, unexpected, and all the more deadly.

It would bleed out before it reached Imperial forces, CC-2224 noted dully. The idea didn’t bother it overly much. It’d known it would die on this mission, had accepted that upon assignment, and faced with its imminent decommissioning, it felt very little at all. Not fear, not anger, not regret...

Well, and that wasn’t true.

CC-2224 had regrets.

(Good soldiers follow orders.)

Alone in its mind, on the brink of death, it could acknowledge their existence.

It wished, suddenly, that things were different. Not for itself, no, death had no power over CC-2224. There was no death, after all, only the Force. And there was its regret. That it had sent its—his—that it had executed a traitor, without hesitation or remorse, and that the traitor had rejoined the Force believing he had CC-2224’s loyalty.

Loyalty and love.

CC-2224 had loved the traitor and his execution was a blight on its existence.

The traitor’s fall down, down, down into the waters of Utapau haunted its dreams.

Dead, the traitor was dead, he had to be. If the traitor had survived the fall that no being could survive, then CC-2224 had failed in its orders. It would be forced to complete the mission before submitting itself for decommissioning.

So the traitor Jedi must be dead, or else CC-2224 would never be allowed to die.

… And you want to die…

Perhaps not, it conceded to itself, because death tended to solve very little in the grand scheme of the galaxy. But it certainly no longer wanted to exist here, now, in this galaxy that the glorious Emperor had built upon the blood and bones of—of the—

It didn’t matter.

CC-2224 had nothing, had no one, would die very soon, without any of its brothers to hold its hand and watch him march far away. It’d always thought it would have at least that little bit of comfort, at the end.

… But you don’t want the end… You want the beginning… As do I…

Still nestled in the crook of its arm, the objective shivered, barely perceptible, and it looked down to see… something… a ripple that shouldn’t exist… before its vision finally went dark…

The disappointment might kill it before the blood loss, it decides as sound and pain begin to filter back into its consciousness. All it wants is an end to its godsawful existence, is that too much to ask? An end to pain and fear and remorse, the easiest thing in the galaxy to accomplish, except if you’re CC-karking-2224.

“Wake up, please, please, wake up…”

It gripes and growls and groans at the order, the request, the plea, but complies, conditioned as it’s been to respond to that voice and tone.

Prying its eyes open isn’t something it even feels capable of doing, but it grits its teeth as it's done so many times before. “Oh,” Kote breathes, staring at the blood-and-dirt-streaked face hovering over his own. “Hello there.”

The ghost smiles, adding tears into the mixture of grime, and lets out a chuckle that sounds like a sob.

“You scared me, Commander” it says, accusatory, as if that’s the worst crime he’s committed against its person. “Oh, Cody, I thought we’d lost you. No, don’t move, I’m going to comm the medics that we finally found you.”

Kote stops trying to prop himself up and just observes the spectre of his long-dead general report their position and his condition. He could look around, take stock of whatever years-over battle this surprisingly kind fever-dream has dropped him into, but instead he drinks in the sight.

“Well, Cody, I’m afraid the medics are not going to be kind to you after this.”

Smiling more softly than he has in over a decade, Kote watches the spectre fret over his blood-sticky armor, trying to assess the damage. “I forgot he used to call me that,” Kote murmurs, disbelieving at his luck.

Of all the ways his mind could comfort him as he dies, he never thought his general’s ghost would lead him into the Force. Perhaps this dying shavit isn’t so bad.

The spectre quirks its head to the side like a little bird, brow furrowed, mouth curled to one side. “What do you mean?”

Kote feels the hot, hard coil of tension that he’s carried in his chest for so, so long begin to unravel just a little bit. He shakes his head ruefully just thinking about it, his expression no doubt disgustingly sweet. “Never had the heart to tell him he got it wrong that first time,” he admits, watching the spectre go still. “Not like it was a hardship, going from Kote to Cody. I liked it, even. Like when the tubies start losing teeth and can’t get their words right anymore.”

He chuckles at the memories, a little bubble of blood forming at his mouth. The spectre doesn’t look nearly as amused; instead, its expression had turned glacial as he’d reminisced, and now looks only gut-punched.

“Do you—” His general’s ghost looks like he’s already marching. “Cody—Kote—do you recognize me?” he asks urgently, throwing a panicked look over his shoulder. “You know me, don’t you?”

And that, ha, that’s the funniest thing he’s heard in years.

More blood works its way out of his mouth as his breath wheezes out in a painful laugh. “‘Course I do, cyar’ika,” Kote reassures the spectre. “You’re my damnfool Jedi, always rushing into danger like you’re trying to prove something to… someone… Some dead man, most like.”

He can feel himself losing steam the longer he speaks, becoming colder and more tired with every word.

The spectre darts another look over his shoulder, face spasming like he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing, until Kote fumbles around and grabs one of his hands. He looks back down, then, face going soft and tears coming thick and fast. “I don’t understand,” he whispers, breathing beginning to hitch.

His poor general looks overwhelmed and unsure, like he was back nearer the beginning of the war. “I’m sorry,” he says thickly, “I’m so sorry, ner cyare. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to, I’m sorry, ni ceta…”

Obi-Wan’s ghost flinches like he’s been struck, but he holds tight to Kote’s hand and pushes an errant curl away from his forehead, though Kote doesn’t remember pulling off his bucket. “Whatever it is, I forgive you,” he replies, voice sweet and lovely like he’s talking to a panicked shiny. Maybe that’s what he is, right now. “You just need to hold on a bit longer, my dear, the medics are nearly here. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I forgive you…”

He can feel himself slipping away, into the yawning darkness.

With his luck, he’ll just wake up back on the shuttle, his general’s forgiveness a hazy memory to torture himself with. He can hear shouting, dulled by the rushing of his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat, Obi-Wan whispering benedictions and pleas to hang on, just a little more…

The hand in his grasp is pulled away and Kote whines, wanting to hold his general’s hand when he dies, but other figures crowd around him, pushing the spectre away.

And that’s—that’s not karking fair, and Kote isn’t afraid to fripping say so, to push the painfully-familiar hands and buckets away because, damn it all, he’s dying here, can’t he get a little peace, for once?

“Settle down, brother,” dear, dead, Coric says with the authority of a medic to back up the order. “If you keep this up you’ll cause more damage than we can fix.”

Kote opens his mouth to tell Coric’s ghost exactly what he can shove up his shebs but is stymied by an unceremonious hypo to the neck, cutting him off.

The last thing he thinks he sees before the dark returns is his general, covered in filth and gore, looking more conflicted than Kote has ever seen him before. And at his side, a mirror image of himself, looking solid and implacable and like he’s meticulously planning a murder.

Well, if that’s how it is, Kote doesn’t mind marching off.

He’s got his general’s back.

#star wars #the clone wars #sw fic #by apples #codywanweek 2020 #codywanweek #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #time-travel #codywan

99 notes · View notes

varusai · 3 years

Note

who do you think is the most dateable dark matter thief?? i know you have an opinion and i need to hear it

sorry for the late response anon i honestly had to think abt this one for a few days lmao, but yeah i have opinions. below the cut bc fr i have opinions, all of them have major pros and cons (based on my characterization at least) and really i just have to break it down for u

Boros, everyones obvious first choice, but certainly not mine.

Pros: rich, tall, pretty, fun af, passionate, will kill for you np, give you anything you want, literally anything.

cons: has a god complex, doesnt respect you, not his number one priority at all, will forget about you once its not interesting for him anymore, probably argumentative/combative af, is very very smart and has no problem manipulating you in all the worst ways, is very entitled so he will never feel bad about anything, cant win arguments either bc he’ll want to settle it with combat, will get offended over little things just to argue bc he thinks thats fun

this is a relationship you’d get into if you literally have nothing to lose and dont care about your mental health. like hes hot but this shit would be toxic af and he will ruin your life and leave you to go fuck around and fight someone on the other side of the universe. this will be the best of times and the worst of times for you and you will never be the same afterward mentally or emotionally. the only way i would even consider it is if i lost my damn mind. The only way a relationship with him would ever work long term is if you were physically stronger than him and were capable of putting him in his place OR you were smart enough, suicidal enough, and interesting enough to him to engage in some psychological warfare and reject him if he asked you. Make him chase you for years, say yes, then decide that /he’s/ boring /you/ and leave him for another member of the squad to just destroy their established hierarchy and humble him to the point that he’s obsessed with you.

i dont have the energy for all that, so i’ll just smash and pass.

0/10 completely undateable

Geryuganshoop, also a probable second choice for many:

pros: cute, nice, tentacle alien (obviously), will respect you np, will also give you anything you want, not antagonistic at all, telepathic communication so no risk of miscommunication, emotionally intelligent and available, loyal to a fault,

cons: horrible boss/best friend that you will have to listen to him vent about for at least 3 hours a day, complete yes man as well so he will not tell boros no or cut him off and you will be stuck dealing with this no matter what, severely mentally ill and wont go to therapy bc he thinks hes handling it well, workaholic, needs a lot, and i mean A LOT of attention

this relationship would be great if not for boros lol. boros sabotages his social and romantic life but geryu has been friends with him too long to either cut him off or establish boundaries. he has no backbone (figuratively and literally) and wouldnt even consider it. he’ll ignore you in favor of his job too, to a massive degree. also i think that while the telepathic communication would be a major plus in most cases, here i feel like i’d have no less than 16 different, never before seen on earth, mental illnesses projected right into my brain just from being within a certain radius of him.

im already fucked up enough in that sense so pass unfortunately.

it would be a yes without boros in the picture tho lmao

so prob like 4/10 iffy datablillity, 1 level increase with each decade of therapy he gets tho so a lot of potential :D

Groribas, my fav girl:

pros: straightforward, realistic, very clear expectations, will not fuck around with you whatsoever like there is no mind games or anything here, will kill for you, rich and non materialistic so she’ll basically just let you do whatever with her money since she doesn t care about it, cares about her job but like...a normal amount. she absolutely has a good work/life balance, highly organized so she will not forget important dates, loyal af and will defend your honor under any circumstances, mean but in a funny way, a ton of fun to hang out with if you’re into that, no eyes so i dont have to worry abt eye contact ever

cons: extremely high expectations, like exhaustingly high, and not even a bit of flexibility there, if you dont meet the cut its a no, she’ll let you know and leave same day, she will also bully you, you need a thick skin and great sense of humor to survive, bad at feelings if you need emotional support???? go elsewhere, shes mega emotionally unavailable, will probably want to share bodies as a form of intimacy

overall its a solid 6.5/10 dateability for me i love the directness and no bs approach, we would def get along well. however, while im not sensitive, shes def gonna hit on some insecurities at some point and it will cause an argument lol. but i mean whatever. it happens. the body sharing would be an issue though, same reason i wouldnt be chill with having a symbiote despite being a major venom fucker. i need my space i cant deal with that. so thats a possible deal breaker if she couldnt get over that lol. and she wont, so we wouldnt work out. i wish it fuckin would tho😭😭😭 i would take whatever crumbs of attention she would be willing to give me

Melzalgald, my fav they/them bastard:

pros: amorphous and shapeshifting aka extremely attractive according to my taste in monsters, tall af but could chose to be a more reasonable survivable size lol, self contained and self-entertaining so they dont need a ton of attention to be happy, funny af, rich, will give you whatever you want and probably a bunch of shit you didnt know you wanted, very fun, built in friend group if you didnt already have friends, extremely emotionally intelligent and great people skills due to living in a collective, stupid af by choice, like some of em are very smart, but they dont claim that, will say fuck work and tell boros to eat shit to spend time with you, will kill for you as well, but only if you ask them to bc their first inclination is to just bother someone to death, very loyal, once they like you they like you really forever, it would take some pretty extreme circumstances to make them dislike you

cons: annoying af and its unavoidable, will talk over you, all of them at once will talk over you and do so loudly, no respect for personal space, they dont even know what that is, will probably accidentally manhandle you, they act stupid but arent so they can be manipulative, even if it isnt bad and they dont really mean to be, impulsive, forgetful of the needs of organic creatures so they will bother you at all hours of the day and night if you arent firm with boundaries, disgustingly extroverted and will bring randoms to your place without asking, or just...make new cluster members and you have to roll with it, will eat or absorb literally anything you have, will antagonize and bother you for fun, major jump scare risk since sometimes the forms are....fleshy

this ones hard for me like theyre hot af and i feel like they’d be super fun and good partners, but god....the noise. idk how long i could deal with that lol i dont like people in my house. it would drive me up the wall, but then again...i can simply kick them out when ive had enough. they arent projecting mental illness directly into my brain or requiring me to share a body sintelligento major plus. creepy thing/symbiote style hot monster without any of the invasiveness so tbh 8/10 dateability

some people date loud annoying extroverts who dont understand personal space that /arent/ rich, loyal, or emotionally intellegent so i’d be winning on a few different fronts lmao

#lord boros #geryuganshoop #groribas #melzalgald #dark matter thieves #opm #i put way too much thought into this after not thinking abt them in a long while #it was fun tho #Anonymous

11 notes · View notes

chemicalmagecraft · 3 years

Text

Taiyuu OCT Round 4

Character Nicknames: Nii-chan: Takeda Ryuji Mulan-sensei: Jailong Chen Mushu-chan: Firecracker Boron: Nerva Rekka Buck-sensei: Kazumi Shunsuke Akai-chan: Naishin-Sunomu Seisho Akai-obaachan: Seisho's grandmother (I do not know her full name and you probably don't either)

@taiyuu-oct

x x x

Yukino hummed to herself, grabbing a quick snack from the pantry. She'd participated in the UA entrance exam a few days ago and to be honest she was still a little drained from it. Still, she felt like she did pretty well. No way she wasn't getting into the hero course.

"Yuki-chan!" her brother shouted, running into the room with an envelope in his hands. "It's the letter from UA! It looks like you got in!"

"Oh?" she said, opening up a granola bar. "You didn't open it, did you?"

"Oh no," Nii-chan said, "it just looks like the one I got when I was accepted." He tossed the envelope to Yukino. "Now, just remember that, when you get into UA, you should be on your best behavior."

Yukino rolled her eyes and groaned. "Do you really think I won't behave?"

He shrugged. "I'm just making sure. I know some of the teachers at your old school had a tendency to... look away when people with 'heroic' Quirks acted up."

Yukino snarled, clenching her fists. "What, and you think I'm like those bullies?"

Ryuji winced. "N-no, I just meant that UA has higher standards than that, and you should-"

Yukino threw the now-frosted acceptance letter on the floor. "Know what?" she said coldly. "I changed my mind. Gonna see what other hero schools there are before I restrict myself to UA."

"Yuki-cha-" Ryuji started to say, but shut up when Yukino glared at him.

"Goodbye, Ryuji," she growled, then stormed off.

x x x

Mulan-sensei had spent the last half-hour berating the entire class about safety. Odd, Yukino didn't think any of the teachers actually cared about that by now. Finally, she was getting to the point of this exercise. "So today you'll be doing a mock rescue exercise." She pointed behind her, at the same dirt cityscape they'd used the last time Mulan-sensei dragged them out to do an exercise. Except this time it was ruined, like there was a massive supervillain attack or natural disaster or something. Wow, did they really have the budget to destroy one of their dirt training course mockups?

"You'll lose points for any injuries that occur, both to yourself and the mock victims. And you get points for every victim you rescue. We're not telling you how many points you have, lose, gain, or need to pass, so you don't simply stop when you have enough to make it. Heroes don't stop saving people until they're sure that there's nobody left to save, so neither will you. Of course, the ruined state of the cityscape means that parts of it might not be safe."

Yukino scoffed. Here Mulan-sensei was telling them to be safe while admitting she was sending them into somewhere dangerous. At least make sure nothing would collapse and kill someone!

"Because of that, my Quirk effects will be flying around the area." She pointed to Mushu-chan, who was floating around her head, when she said 'Quirk effects.' "If anyone gets injured they are to whistle so they can be rescued."

Yukino bit her lip. 'Quirk effects...' She'd tried to ignore it before, but... Mulan-sensei calling her dragons that was starting to really bother her.

"Mommy! What's that big lizard thing doing here?" "Ugh, did the demon woman have to come?" "Sorry, we don't want any weird monsters in our club!"

Maybe Yukino was making connections where there were none, but... The way Mulan-sensei called Mushu-chan and the others Quirk effects and stuff like that, only begrudgingly referring to them by their actual names... It felt disgustingly familiar to the sorts of dehumanizing remarks she and her family occasionally received due to her grandfather's Quirk and the mutations he passed down. Now, normally Yukino would at least try to talk to her about how the language she was using concerned her, but... Yukino glared at Fuwa-chan... the last time Yukino brought her concerns up to a teacher she didn't feel like it was properly addressed. So she just added it to the list of reasons she would be leaving this half-baked, understaffed, ill-funded travesty of a hero school and never look back. Mulan-sensei was still talking, but Yukino couldn't bring herself to listen at the moment. Hopefully it wasn't anything too important.

She did manage to tune back in when Mulan-sensei was starting to wind down, though. "And remember," her final point was. "You'll all be doing this at the same time! You'll lose a lot of points for fighting with each other, but there's no penalty for collaborating. It's encouraged, even. Now, go!" Mulan-sensei blew her whistle, causing most of the class to run to the ruined city. Yukino was among that crowd, though she was towards the back of the group because she couldn't really get that far into the crowd without getting trampled. The group quickly thinned out, thankfully, as people split off, either to go down side streets, climb up the buildings, or take to the skies. She looked around, trying to spot any of the fake civilians.

There! A vaguely-humanoid figure roughly hewn from what appeared to be stone, trapped under what appeared to be a streetlight made from dirt. They... probably didn't say anything about property damage, right? Typically in a situation where things were already this destroyed nobody really cared if heroes had to break a few more things to save someone's life. Yukino quickly tapped the 'streetlight' on both sides of the fake civilian, using Cryokinesis to freeze two segments and then cleave them apart to free it up. She lifted the cut segment off of the civilian, then concentrated on her Quirk. She'd had an idea for a special move, or at least a new usage of Cryomancy if it didn't exactly count as a special move... She chilled the air around her a by few degrees, extending the effect out in a pulse. Yukino could, if only for a moment, feel anything that she was chilling even if she didn't freeze it below zero. It was a little murky, but she could tell differences between things by temperature and texture. It'd have been a bit easier to detect the civilians if they were warm bodies and not made of cold stone, but at least it was something.

The reason why she'd found a civilian first, though, was because she wanted to have an example of what she knew the civilian might feel like to compare the surroundings to. And using the special move produced... mixed results, honestly. For one, it took a small bite out of her body heat, but she was expecting that. She felt like her sense might've gotten a bit too spread out towards the end, which was hopefully something she could work on, but she did notice two more civilians in a nearby building. The door was blocked by a bit of dirt building, but that really wasn't much of a hindrance to a telekinetic as potent as she. Yukino patted the ground next to her civilian, using her Quirk. "Hang in there a bit," she said despite the fact that it was an honestly creepy-looking rock and not even anything resembling a person. Then she walked up to the door, brushing off the rubble with her Quirk.

Yukino quickly froze the ground under the two civilians inside the building, thankfully not obstructed aside from the rubble over the door. She carefully lifted all three civilians on the impromptu telekinetic stretchers she made from the ground under them, then walked out the building. She walked out of the dirtban area, the three civilians in tow. Yukino noticed Boron down the street carefully carrying two civilian stones in the same direction she was going. "Hey, Boron," she said, waving.

"Hey," he said, though he was still concentrating more on trying not to drop the heavy stones.

Yukino, because she wasn't really burdened as much by her charges thanks to her telekinesis, reached the area where everyone seemed to be dropping off their civilians. She gently set them down, still on their platforms, and nodded to Mulan-sensei. She jogged back to the cityscape, slowing down a bit when she passed by Boron. "Trade ya when you get back," she said, then sped back up again. She walked around the city, not using her sensory skill again but just checking under rubble when she saw a spot where a civilian might be hidden. She'd managed to find one civilian that way by the time Boron found her.

"You said you wanted to trade?" he asked.

Yukino nodded. "I chill you off, you warm me up. Also, I have something I wanna try, if you'll warm me up again when I'm done."

He smiled and summoned some fire. "Sure, let's do it!"

After Yukino cooled him down and ate his fire in return, Yukino tried her idea. She sent a pulse of cold off in one directing, hoping that narrowing it down would let her sense a bit more. It was a success, so she, with Boron's help, sent pulses off in three other directions, turning roughly ninety degrees each time. She had a pretty good idea of where all the civilians nearby were, at least for the moment, so...

"There are some civilians that way," Yukino said, pointing. It was true, of course, but there were a few more in another direction that Yukino planned on taking. "Of course, I can't guarantee our classmates won't scoop them up." With that said, she went after the civilians that she'd felt.

x x x

After... maybe an hour or two of the exercise, Yukino saw two people in suits talking to Mulan-sensei and some other teachers as she brought some more civilians out.

"What are you two doing here?" Mulan-sensei asked, looking somewhat miffed.

"We're here about the outstanding debt of Chikyu Tane," one of the suited men said.

When she heard that, something inside Yukino just... snapped. She faintly heard the civilians she was carrying thud to the ground, but she didn't care at that point.

It made... a disturbing amount of sense. But still, learning that Chikyu-’sensei’ apparently got into debt making a shitty-ass seventh-tier dirt school that couldn't properly care for its students? It was all Yukino could do to keep from exploding then and there, instead gritting her teeth and seething at the situation until one of the teachers, she didn't notice who, gently ushered her back to the dorms.

When she was back at the dorms she immediately walked to her room, slamming the door open, and stormed over to her belongings. She immediately grabbed her scratching block, which she usually kept somewhere easily accessible in case of a situation like this where something (or someone) caused her emotions to spike severely. She sat down and growled to herself as she started furiously ripping into it. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down, but it ended up shallow and not helping at all.

"Are you okay?" a quiet, nervous voice asked. Yukino jumped to see Yuu-chan standing at the doorway.

She was about to shout at him, but sighed. He didn't deserve it. "I'm... really angry," Yukino spat out. She snarled. "It's... by itself it's petty, but this is just the latest in a string of issues I've had with this damn school. And to be honest? I'm fucking out. Bye." Yukino got up, still scratching at her block. She walked to the door, letting Yuu-chan get out of her way first. "And... for what it's worth," Yukino stopped to say before she left, "you and the other friends I made here... are pretty much the only good thing I got out of this school. I'd like to keep in touch, if that's cool with you."

"Yeah," he said, though he still sounded a little somber. "I'd like that..."

"Thanks." Yukino left, searching for a teacher. She quickly found Goudalone-sensei, trying to calm down some students.

"I-I'm sure Laccadaisy will get back soon!" they said.

That statement hit Yukino hard. Chikyu wasn't even fucking there? Goudalone-sensei probably was trying to keep the students from getting riled up, but all it did was anger Yukino further. "Who do I have to talk to to leave?" Yukino shouted at them.

"A-ah! Takeda-chan!" they winced. They got really nervous when they saw her, and the students they were talking to backed away a bit. "Um... We'd prefer that you didn't leave the island at this time..."

"Not what I meant," Yukino growled, clenching her fists. "I want out of Taiyuu. I was trying to be patient, but whatever's going on now is the last straw!"

"U-um..." they trembled a bit under Yukino's fury. "Y-you'd have to talk to Buckskin about that, but he's... looking for Laccadaisy with Ryujin at the moment... They're... probably on the mainland."

Yukino's hands shook. A few wisps of white vapor rolled off of her as she tried to keep herself from lashing out. "Okay then," she said coldly. "But I'm leaving. Now. I'll contact... Kazumi-sensei about that later." She stormed off, pulling out her phone and opening her contacts. She tapped one of the first contacts, pressing the 'call' button. She went to an area with no people, trying to get some privacy.

"Yuki-chan! What's up!" Nii-chan picked up almost immediately.

Yukino sighed, trying to compose herself.

Nii-chan picked up on her silence. "This isn't an 'I love my brother so much and wanted to talk to him' call, is it?"

"No," Yukino muttered, unamused.

He sighed. "Okay, you here to vent or do you want my help with something?"

"I'm leaving," Yukino told him. "I don't care if you don't want me to, I don't care if you aren't there when I get off the train, hell, if the train isn't available I don't care if I have to use my Quirk to leave!"

"Okay," Nii-chan said. "Wow. Did... did something illegal happen?"

Yukino snorted, a bit of white vapor puffing from her nose. "Supposedly not, but at this point I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"Yeah, you sounded pretty... serious. Okay, luckily my shift just ended, so I'll try to be there to pick you up. If I'm not there when you get off, please wait until I arrive. And if you can't take the train, call me. I should be able to arrange something a little less... technically illegal."

"Thanks, Nii-chan," Yukino muttered.

"Love you, kiddo. Be there as soon as I can!" *Click.*

Yukino put her phone away and headed for her room.

x x x

Yukino hefted her backpack. She'd put some of her clothes, electronics, toiletries, and valuables in her bag but unfortunately had to leave most of it behind for when she could get it later. Luckily Yuu-chan was still in their room, so Yukino apologized for everything and asked him to make sure nothing happened to her stuff until she came back. With that taken care of, she was heading out. But before she could get to the door, she heard a calm voice.

"You're leaving, Takeda-kun," Akai-chan remarked. It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah," Yukino said. "I just... can't take this shit anymore." She'd already vented to Akai-chan about how she'd been having a lot of doubts about Taiyuu, and how she was considering leaving even before this most recent incident.

The much taller girl nodded. "Would you want me to leave with you?" Yukino noticed that she also had her backpack.

"That... that sounds great, but only if it's what you really want..."

"Of course," she said. "I imagine the incident with the debt collectors is what set you off? It does seem very suspect."

Yukino gave her a small, nervous smile. "Let's go, then."

The coupl- pair left the dorm building together, heading for the trains. Luckily, the train was there and it seemed like it was running. Akai-chan spoke to the operators for Yukino while she texted her brother to let him know that the train was running and she was coming with a friend. The operators agreed to take the two back to the mainland after they were assured that there was an adult back there waiting for them. Apparently the operators were going to pick someone on the mainland up anyways, which certainly helped. Yukino and Akai-chan took their seats on the otherwise-empty train, sitting next to each other near the front with their bags in the seats next to them. Yukino leaned on Akai-chan as the train started. She sniffled and rubbed at her eye. Akai-chan put an arm around her.

x x x

Yukino and Akai-chan got off the train as soon as the doors open. When they did, they saw Jailong-sensei about to enter the train.

"Hey," Yukino said coldly.

"Ah, hello, kids," Jailong-sensei said nervously. "I... can guess why you're here."

"Sure, it could be the fact that our 'beloved' principal up and ditched us to dodge the debt collectors," Yukino shrugged. "That was pretty upsetting, but are you sure it isn't the severely cheap and often times literally made from dirt facilities that reek of the sort of budget you can't run a school on? Or perhaps it's the understaffing issues that made it hard to get a proper education? Or maybe, just maybe it was the fact that the girl with the 'uncontrollable'" (Yukino made sure to use her snarkiest air quotes when she said 'uncontrollable') "memory-erasing Quirk was allowed to just erase everyone's memories for a few months with no question or even making the students aware that there was such a student at all? Ooh, or maybe it was all of the shitty things above!" Okay sure, it might've been a little harsh to dump all that on Jailong-sensei, but Yukino was feeling petty at the moment.

Jailong-sensei sighed, looking a little weighed down by the contents of Yukino's rant. "...I can concede most of what you just said, but not your problems with Kayaki."

Yukino snarled. Whatever guilt she had over venting at Jailong-sensei suddenly evaporated. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"It's... it's classified," Jailong-sensei said.

"Oh?" Yukino asked. "Classified? How can I be sure you're not just covering up for her?"

Jailong clenched her fists. "There wasn't a good solution to her problem that wouldn't have negatively affected Kayaki's education."

Yukino cocked her head at the 'teacher.' "So letting her negatively affect everyone else's education was totally fine, then? And to be honest I can think of a few solutions that would've probably only made her a little uncomfortable, as opposed to your amazingly brilliant solution of 'ignore it even though it's probably gonna make over half the school even more uncomfortable than Zuruko would be if we just did literally anything about it.' Did you even try to think of a solution? No Quirk is omnipotent, there had to have been a better way!"

"Quirks can be unpredictable," Jailong deflected. "We couldn't have been sure anything would work..."

Yukino scoffed and crossed her arms. Did she even realize what she was saying? "There are so many holes in that argument I almost mistook it for a thin slice of Swiss cheese. Oh, no, sorry, excuse would be a better word for it. Doing anything is better than nothing, you know. And most Quirks aren't nearly that unpredictable. You're an outlier, you know that, right? Most Quirks aren't sentient beings, just supernatural biological functions and stuff like that. They're not so unpredictable that they can't be dealt with, or that trying isn't worth it!" Yukino uncrossed her arms and jabbed a clawed finger at Jailong. She could feel herself start to heat up, white wisps curling off of her. "Though to be honest from how you talk about your dragons I wouldn't be surprised if you don't think they're alive! You know what your problem is!? You pretend that your Quirk is a thing when it's LIVING BEINGS! ZURUKO HID BEHIND AN ACTUAL THING AND PRETENDED IT WAS THIS BIIIG SCARY MONSTER SO SHE DIDNT HAVE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE MEMORIES IT ATE! YOU KNOW WHAT'S NOT UNPREDICTABLE, THOUGH!? KEEP THE HURTY FIELD AWAY FROM PEOPLE AND IT'LL STOP HURTING THEM!! FUCKING!! MAGIC!!!" She let all the hurt, anger, and pain she'd been feeling over this pour into her words.

Jailong scoffed. "You think we should've kept Kayaki isolated? I didn't have a lot of records to work with, but I do know that her Quirk only affects memories of herself and blurs her into the background. I fail to see how that's worth that amount of vitriol, and you clearly disliked her to begin with." Seeing Yukino's glare, for whatever reason, not get any better from being told that her feelings weren't valid and that she was overreacting, Jailong sighed, her face softening. "No, I shouldn't accuse you of anything. But you should know that I did what I could, and I wasn't dealing with just her. Taiyuu was barely equipped to handle a class of completely normal people, and you and I both know that hero schools don't attract just normal people. To say I'm embarrassed by how poorly this went all down would be putting it lightly."

Yukino snarled, starting to see red. Not even a fucking apology. Jailong belittled her feelings, made excuses for her own shoddy work, and didn't even fucking apologize. And now she was making out that she was the one that was hurt by this. A lot of thoughts ran through Yukino's head, none of them polite. "You really think that makes it okay?" "Don't condescend me you fucking prick!" "You covered up for a fucking villain, don't act like I'm the asshole here!" "You're a villain, not a hero!" "Shut the hell up!" "Die, die, die, die die die diediediediediedie!"

Yukino felt someone grab her now-cold shoulder. She looked up at Akai-chan, her breath ragged. Akai-chan... didn't really smile or anything, but she gave her a look of sympathy. Yukino got her breathing back under control, then rubbed at her face with her sleeve. She glared at Jailong, but kept her tone cold. "It's... I can't believe you're looking down on me, when you're the one who didn't do anything when I was panicking over the holes that kept popping up in my memory." She shoved her hands in her pockets, partially to keep them from shaking. "But whatever helps your negligent ass sleep at night, hero." She spat out that last word with so much venom that she was honestly surprised that Jailong didn't die on the spot. If there was one thing she could think of Jailong as at the moment, 'hero' definitely wasn't it. She started to walk past Jailong, Akai-chan right by her side, but stopped when they were behind Jailong.

"Oh, and for the record," Yukino said, feeling like throwing one last barb in, petty as it was. "I hate just about everyone who spends months letting their mind-altering quirk permanently erase my memories about equally, regardless of how well they can directly control their Quirk. It's concerning that you, the pro 'hero' here, don't see what the big deal is. Though at least I know where Zuruko must've learned that self-centered attitude about how I'm not allowed to be angry about my memories of her vanishing, now." She smiled sardonically. "But hey, I guess you probably don't care about what a 'quirk effect' like myself might be feeling. Goodbye."

Jailong didn't have anything to say to that. Good. Before Yukino could start walking again, though, she heard a sound like a firecracker popping. "Hey!" A voice... was that Mushu-chan? He sounded angry, in any case. "You don't know anything about what she's like!"

Yukino snorted. "Ain't that the fuckin' truth. Good to know you've got your 'user's' back despite her repeatedly calling you a 'thing,' I guess." She started walking to the exit of the underground boarding area for the train.

"You kno-" Mushu-chan started to shout, but stopped.

Yukino turned back to see Jailong holding her hand up, probably having stopped Mushu-chan's rant with a silent command. "It's not worth it, Firecracker."

"Yeah," Yukino said flatly. "You've got a train to catch and our ride's probably here by now. I'd say this was a nice talk but, well, I don't wanna lie." Yukino was very tempted to say 'unlike you,' but she was probably pushing it already... She started walking to the exit again. Jailong didn't try to dig herself any deeper, she just sighed and got on the train. Yukino walked up the stairs to the exit, seeing her brother's car when she got to ground-level.

Nii-chan got out of the car, a worried expression on his face. It looked like he hadn't even taken time to change because he was still in his hero outfit. "Yuki-chan, are you okay?" He ran up to Yukino, sweeping her up in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Yuki-chan. I don't know what you've been dealing with, but..."

Yukino hugged him back, hard. It was like a dam burst and she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She buried her head in her brother's chest, sobbing.

x x x

The next couple minutes were a bit of a blur to Yukino. She vaguely recalled being gently led somewhere, Nii-chan and Akai-chan talking about something. But she spent most of that time crying into Nii-chan's costume.

Eventually Yukino calmed down a bit... or maybe just ran out of tears. At some point Nii-chan had taken her to a nearby bench and sat her down. Yukino rubbed her now-wet face off on her sleeve. The tears on her sleeve turned to frost almost immediately. For whatever reason, despite the fact that Cryomancy wasn't technically an ice-based Quirk, her tears were cold and would freeze onto anything other than her. Apparently her grandmother, who had an actual ice Quirk, had the same effect. Even though she was only reminded of it when crying, knowing that she had a similarity like that with her grandmother tended to make Yukino feel... pleasant, at least a little.

Speaking of... Yukino looked at the surface she'd been crying into. Flame-retardant fabric with a scale-like design, covered in frost and, at some parts, outright ice. "Ah, s-sorry," Yukino muttered to her brother.

He gave her a smile, squeezing her back a bit before letting her go from his hug. "It's okay. My costume is made to give me a bit of resistance to cold, remember? While I'm thawing my shirt out, though, do you need some fire?"

Yukino nodded. "Yeah, I might need a recharge..."

Nii-chan took a breath, conjuring fire from his hands. He held one of his flame-wreathed palms over his icy shirt, melting and evaporating the ice, and held the other out to Yukino. Yukino held her hands over the fire, sucking the familiar-tasting heat from it. Nii-chan didn't say anything as she ate her fill of his Dragon Fire, and when his shirt was dried off he let the hand on his chest fall wordlessly, still keeping the fire he was feeding to Yukino up.

"Done," Yukino said when she had her fill, pulling her hands away. "Thanks."

Nii-chan let his fire go out, a slight hitch in his breathing. "I'm... sorry, by the way," he said after a while.

"For what?" Yukino asked.

"This whole thing is kind of my fault..."

"It's literally not, but go on," Yukino said flatly.

"Yeah, but..." He sighed. "I mean, yeah, I didn't cause... whatever happened there, but... you turned down UA because I was a jerk to you all that time ago."

Yukino snorted. "I turned down UA because I overreacted to you giving me valid criticism and decided to do something stupid."

Nii-chan put his hand on her shoulder. "It was criticism, but in hindsight I wouldn't call it valid. I was too harsh on you, and I ended up pushing you away..."

Yukino shrugged, though she didn't shake his hand off. "I still probably should've..." She sighed. "Let's just say we both did something stupid."

He chuckled and ruffled her hair. Yukino pulled away a bit, but grinned. "Yeah, I guess if we're both in agreement..." He looked over Yukino's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo!" Yukino turned to see Akai-chan standing around awkwardly a bit away. "I still want you to call a parent or guardian before I take you anywhere, but once you do that we can get lunch, my treat!"

"I'll need to borrow on of your phones," Akai-chan said. "My Quirk interferes with electronics, so my phone is only for emergencies and usually uncharged."

Ryuji's brow furrowed. "There's really nothi-" He stopped, looked at Yukino, then sighed. "No, no, it's your Quirk," he muttered, "you probably know best... Okay, Yuki-chan, can you give her your phone? I wanna call our parents so they know you're alright." He pulled out his phone.

"Yeah," Yukino nodded. "Though... I don't know if I'm ready to talk with Mom and Dad yet... Honestly I only called you because I needed your help..."

Nii-chan nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I get it. I still have to talk to them, but I'll explain that to them. I'll go call them in my car, give you two some privacy." He did as he said, getting inside his car and calling someone on his phone.

Yukino pulled out her phone. "I can go somewhere else, if you want some privacy," she offered.

"It's okay," Akai-chan said. "Could you please dial the number in and hold the phone for me? I would prefer not to destroy your phone."

"Yeah, that's cool. Gimme the number."

Yukino dialed in the number Akai-chan gave her, then put the phone on speaker for her. It sounded like it was her grandmother who picked up. Akai-chan told her that she'd left the school, and how it was probably not going to be a school much longer. Akai-obaachan asked how Akai-chan's stepsibling was (still on the island and apparently better off that way, which concerned Yukino...) and then suggested she start looking for another school. Then she asked where Akai-chan was and said she couldn't pick her up.

"I'm with... a friend and her older brother right now," Akai-chan answered.

"A friend?" Akai-obaachan asked, clearly interested in what Akai-chan would say next by her tone of voice.

"...Yes," Akai-chan answered.

"Is she the short blue girl with ice powers that you like a lot?"

Akai-chan's ears turned a little red. "...Yes," she muttered.

"And her brother is a pro hero, right? He should be trustworthy. You may stay with them for a while, but please go either here or your home by nightfall."

"Okay, Obaachan," she agreed. "See you soon."

"Bye, Sei-tan," Akai-obaachan said. "I'll tell your mother about this for you." She hung up.

Yukino smirked at her. Akai-chan, probably realizing what that smirk meant, blushed slightly harder in anticipation. "So I'm the short blue girl that you like a lot, huh?" She turned off her phone and put it back in her pocket.

Akai-chan gave a small nod. "That's right."

Yukino smiled at her. "I'm flattered."

"You're... you're welcome, I guess."

Nii-chan got out of his car, stopping Yukino from pressing Akai-chan any further. Probably for the best. "You guys done? I can take your orders if you want!"

"We are, thank you," Akai-chan said.

x x x

"Thanks for this, by the way," Yukino said as she sat down on the bench. They'd gone to Dad's family restaurant for the food, as Yukino thought, but Nii-chan had made it a takeout order and taken them to the park nearby instead of going inside to eat. Yukino had stayed in the car, but Nii-chan relayed the well-wishes of Dad and the employees she was closest with.

"No problem, kiddo," Ryuji said with a grin. He handed out the containers to Yukino and Akai-chan, then opened his. "Smells so good..." he said after giving it a sniff.

Yukino and Akai-chan opened their food, too. Nii-chan and Yukino both ordered the Da'long Katsukare, a special dish that they both liked a lot, and Akai-chan ordered it too because she liked spicy food anyway and didn't have as much of the menu memorized as the siblings.

"It tastes delicious," Akai-chan said after taking a few bites. It was, as the name suggested, a katsukare dish with the tonkatsu shaped and decorated to look vaguely like a dragon. It was also very spicy, as Nii-chan had warned Akai-chan before relaying her order to the restaurant. "Though if I may ask, was it named after Takeda-san's hero name?"

Nii-chan smiled at Yukino. "Really, Yuki-chan?" he asked, his voice dripping with exaggerated joy. "Your girlfriend already knows my hero name?"

Akai-chan's cheeks turned a very adorable shade of red at that comment. "Ah, uh..." she stammered out.

Yukino snorted. "Yeah, that's right Akai-chan," she said. "When Nii-chan chose his hero name, Dad decided to name a dish after him in support."

"And he naturally picked katsukare," Nii-chan added, "because it's kinda one of my favorite foods." He ate some of the curry-covered pork, then sighed in delight. A small, deliberately dragon-shaped puff of fire escaped from his lips when he exhaled. "Plus, it's so spicy that it makes you feel like you're breathing fire, like my Quirk."

"That... sounds nice," Akai-chan said.

Yukino grinned. "And when I finally debut, though unfortunately it seems like it's gonna be a while still, Dad's gonna name something after me."

Nii-chan chuckled. "Yeah, can't wait to see that, huh?"

"I'd love to see it," Akai-chan said.

"Thanks, Akai-chan." Yukino smiled and leaned on Akai-chan's side. "So are you gonna try to get into another hero school after this?" Yukino asked. "I'm planning to try to transfer into UA. Nii-chan's been looking into how to do that for me and could probably help you, if you want to as well."

Ryuji faux-pouted. "Don't volunteer my help without asking, Yuki-chan..."

"Love you too, Nii-chan," Yukino smirked at him.

"Thank you for the offer," Akai-chan said, "but I think I'm going to go into medical school after this, not resume the hero course."

"Oh that's cool," Yukino said.

"Med school is certainly a great goal," Nii-chan agreed. "People tend to glorify pro heroes, but doctors save lives too."

"Thank you," Akai-chan said. "For what you just said, and for the lunch as well."

Nii-chan gave her a smile. "You're welcome! It was nice meeting Yuki-chan's... friend."

He didn't say 'girlfriend,' but Akai-chan still blushed again.

"That's enough teasing, Nii-chan," Yukino said. "Let's eat before our food gets cold, huh?"

"Ah, right," Akai-chan muttered. She quickly took a large bite of her katsukare, probably to give herself an excuse to not engage in the conversation. Yukino smiled and had some katsukare as well.

"Aah~" Nii-chan sighed once they were all done with their food. "That was delicious~"

"Yeah~" Yukino agreed with a smile. She was feeling a lot better after some good food.

"It was good," Akai-chan said, putting her container down.

"So what are we doing now?" Yukino asked.

"We can do something else in a bit, but for now..." Nii-chan pulled another container out of the bag that the katsukare was in and handed it to Yukino. "Sorry if this... probably isn't the best time for it, but Dad and I both thought you might like a little pick-me-up."

Yukino quietly opened the container, revealing... "Is that a meringue?" Yukino asked. It looked like a lightly browned meringue, shaped into a scale pattern somehow.

"Take a bite," Nii-chan said, handing her a spoon.

Yukino took a spoonful of the dessert, revealing ice cream and a brownie under it. A warm feeling spread in her chest. "Oh, it's a baked Alaska," she realized. Her father had made her and Nii-chan the hot-and-cold dessert a few times when they were younger (once he even enlisted Mom's help and Quirk to make it right in front of them). Yukino chuckled. "Haven't had this in a while... What's he calling it? Baked Kuraokami?"

Nii-chan shrugged. "He hasn't told me the name yet, but he's been preparing to add it to the menu since you told us your hero name."

Yukino smiled, taking another spoonful. The meringue and brownie were only a little warm and the ice cream was starting to melt from the wait, but it still tasted delicious. A cold, but not sad, tear came from her eye. She quickly wiped it off, making sure it didn't get in her ice cream. "It's good," she said once she swallowed it. "Remind me to thank Dad."

Nii-chan smiled. "I will."

#taiyuu oct #taiyuu ocs #bnha ocs #takeda yukino #naishin-sunomu seishin #takeda ryuji #jailong chen #nerva rekka #kazumi shunsuke

5 notes · View notes