#if he begs you for a 15 minute side quest so he can get his Good Deeds fix | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratkook · 3 years

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right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day.

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!”

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily.

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really.

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me.

He knows the response he��ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs.

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again.

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place.

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping.

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub.

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you.

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food.

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are.

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container.

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops.

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too.

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings.

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work.

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers.

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral.

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time.

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her.

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener.

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup.

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions.

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully.

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide.

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help.

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.”

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are.

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault.

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile.

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her.

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners.

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling.

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal.

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound. “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination.

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped.

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain.

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him.

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels.

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night.

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie.

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom.

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out.

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up.

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.”

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice.

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night.

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below.

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation.

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier.

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long.

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close.

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time.

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way.

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be.

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it.

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior.

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically.

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened.

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it.

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up.

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom.

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life.

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best.

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow.

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile.

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator.

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected.

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying.

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely.

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you.

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response.

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages.

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them.

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away.

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal.

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you.

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand.

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way.

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up.

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times.

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse.

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start.

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking.

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?”

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono.

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory.

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream.

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will.

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion.

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence.

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you.

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush.

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult.

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face.

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours.

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out.

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it.

“Mm, no you don’t.”

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss.

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck.

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him.

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you.

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this.

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours.

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more.

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps.

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation.

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch.

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you.

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart.

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way.

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be.

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name.

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away.

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out.

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips.

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him.

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it.

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm.

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips.

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own.

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way.

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless.

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up.

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you.

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now.

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips.

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized.

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his.

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached.

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace.

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks.

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him.

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans.

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager.

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it. “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too.

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you.

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

#jungkook smut #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

In your arms

Rowaelin moth - Day 15 - Bad day

This is set in the Island Dreams AU.

This fic is basically three years after the wedding scene and somewhere before the epilogue which is 5 years later.

Aelin had a bad day at the hospital and Rowan looks after her.

Aelin loved her job. A lot. When she got offered the job of senior emergency surgeon she had been ecstatic, especially after the London drama. She had many years of experience in a big trauma centre in London and a hospital on the islands would never be any close to the madness of the capital. There were days though, when a smaller sized hospital showed just how difficult it could get.

That was one of those days. She and Malcolm had been running around the A&E non stop directing the show and supervising the treatments. They had victims of a car crash happened just outside Stornoway, two different patients airlifted from two different locations with sever injuries, and on top of that the usual influx of people. Her day had got even worse when a 3 years old girl was brought in after an extreme allergic reaction to something she ate. According to the mother’s tale she had started having trouble breathing very quickly after the ingestion of the food. By the time the girl was brought in she had already been without oxygen for too long. Her heart had stopped beating soon after. Aelin had stood near the mother and tried to comfort the woman who had gone in shock herself at the sudden loss of her daughter.

Once free again she had rushed to the toilet and emptied the contents of her stomach. Then sat on the bathroom floor and cried. It did not help that she was pregnant and hormonal. The girl’s death had hit her badly.

Her two girls, Freyja and Morrigan were the same age as the girl she had lost. The idea of losing them was so painful that would just send her into a full panic attack.

And now she and Rowan had decided to give it a go and add another member to their family. After months of trying they were finally successful and they now had a boy on his way.

Slowly she made her way back into her office and plopped heavily in her chair, her head in her hands while tears still run down her cheeks.

She picked up her mobile and phoned the one person who could help her.

Rowan picked up immediately.

“Missing your husband this much?” His voice cheery, but her chest tightened and more sobs broke through.

“Aelin, are you okay?” He asked her when he heard her sobbing over the phone.

“I just…” her voice broken “I just lost a three year old girl.”

Rowan was silent for a moment probably looking at the twins who she knew were at the bookshop with him.

“How?”

Aelin sobbed once more “anaphylactic shock.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice.”

A moment later she heard a girl’s voice and realised that Freyja had rushed to Rowan and now wanted to talk to her mum.

Aelin spoke to her daughter for a bit until she stated that she had to go back slaying the dragon.

“How have they been?”

Rowan chuckled “Morrigan has been playing quietly on the mat and coloured a couple of pages of her book.” He sighed “Freyja in the meantime has slain three dragons, saved a prince in distress, went on a quest to find the perfect marker and now is helping me tidy the books in the history section. If she sits down for five minutes I call it a success.”

A small chuckle left Aelin. Their daughters were identical physically, but they were complete opposite when it came to behaviour. Morrigan was like Rowan, calm and quiet. Freyja was a hurricane. Constantly moving and full of energy.

“You could have left them with my mum.”

“Ach, mo chridhe, you know I love having them in the shop. I had a busy day and Freyja just loves to charm the customer with her babbling.”

After a moment of silence Rowan spoke again “how are you two?”

Aelin’s hand went to her stomach “baby and I are fine. The nausea today is not too bad.”

“You need to take it easy.”

Aelin huffed “I worked when I was pregnant with the twins, surely I can manage with just one tenant.”

“I know, but remember what Yrene said.”

“Tha.” She replied. She had been taking Gaelic lessons for a while now, especially because they had decided to raise their daughters to be bilingual, so Aelin had been putting effort in it. But her progress had been slower than she expected and she was still very shy in showing off her language skills.

In that moment her pager went off and she groaned. It was definitely one of those days “Ro, I need to go. Give a kiss to the girls.”

“Will do.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, fireheart.”

She hung up and ran outside, ready for more drama and a shift that didn’t seem to end. Malcolm met her halfway “Accident in a farm. Crush injuries and chemical burns.”

“This day just gets better and better,” she grabbed the protective gown he passed and while walking to the the A&E she donned the gear.

***

It was later than expected when she did manage to leave the hospital. It really had been the day from hell and all she wanted to do was curl on the sofa in Rowan’s arms while watching the twins play.

She stepped in the house and was quite taken aback by the silence. Their house was never quiet.

“Rowan?” She called, while dumping her messenger bag at the entrance and shedding shoes and jacket “Ro?”

He appeared a moment later with a towel around his waist and Aelin blamed the hormones because in that moment all she wanted to do was to jump him, but with the girls around that was a treat that would have to wait.

“Taking showers without me?” Seeing him in front of her, washed away the tension and the stress of a horrible day.

Rowan opened his arms for her and Aelin crashed in his embrace, his lips kissing the crown of her head.

“Where are the girls?”

“With your mum.” He explained “I thought that after the bad day you had, you could do with some peace and quiet and some care from your husband.” He took her hand and walked upstairs to their bathroom. He opened the door and Aelin gasped. The lights were off but there were candles all around the tub, which in turn was filled with bubbles and foam and Aelin could smell her favourite bath salts.

“I just thought you and I could relax…”

Aelin threw her arms around his neck and kissed him “you really are the man of my dreams.”

He kissed her back and then his hands started to rover along her body “but first… we need to get you out of these clothes…” he whispered and turned her so that her back was against his chest. Slowly he removed her shirt and then the trousers, his hand caressing her bump that had started to show. He then unclasped her bra and soon after her knickers were gone too. Aelin turned in his arms and begged for a kiss he did not deny her.

“You are stunning.” He said softly while his lips teased her neck.

Aelin in response snorted “I will be a stranded whale again, some of the weight I gained from the twins never left me and I have horrible stretch marks. Seriously, you need glasses.”

Rowan’s kiss deepened and her legs went weak. After three years of marriage he still had that power over her.

“You are gorgeous. And those marks are proof of the amazing job you did to bring our girls into the world. They don’t bother me.”

She seemed to believe him and hugged against his chest “sorry,” a small sob broke from her lips “It was such a horrible shift today.”

“Shhh…” Rowan took her hand “nothing a bath with your husband won’t solve.”

Rowan slowly climbed in the big tub and then took her hand for her to follow him.

She sat against his chest, water lapping against her skin. She dunked her head under the water and then leaned it against his shoulder. Rowan grabbed some shampoo and slowly started massaging her scalp.

“This is perfect,” she moaned and Rowan kissed her neck, while his hand trailed down her arms in gentle caresses “just relax in my arms, I am here for you. Let me take care of you.”

Aelin closed her eyes and let the feel of him wash away the dreadful day she had. The pain, the anguish and the fears.

“Thank you for always being at my side. For being my rock.”

Rowan gently kissed her head “when I married you I promised I would be at your side in difficult times…” his hands covered her bump “You are my everything and making sure that you are fine after a dreadful shift goes under my job of husband.”

Her head turned slightly and kissed the length of his neck.

“At our wedding I also promised chocolate cake and, after we finish our bath, I have it ready for you.”

“Good,” she whispered while turning and straddling him. When they fixed up the house they got a bathtub large enough that would allow them to have some fun in it.

“Aelin…” his warning tone. She knew he was not keen on them having sex while she was pregnant, no matter how many times Yrene had told them it was okay.

“I thought you said you’d do anything to make me happy…” her hands slipped under the water and gripped him “your wife is asking you to help her forget.”

At those words he caved because knowing she was okay and happy was all he cared about.

And slowly, in her husband’s arms Aelin forgot about death and pain and only felt his love… healing.

In his arms, love pushed away all the pain.

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelinkids #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin galathynius #domestic fluff #rowan x aelin

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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Uh, is there still an angst break? Ignore this ask until your ready if so 👉😎👉

What was the au where Jekylls pushed down the stairs and experiences a skull crackening again? Oh well but I've been thinking of a branch of that where Jekyll doesn't know hes dead like all day. I also cant remember if that was already discussed or not

The lodgers patch him up, he complains of a headache, and goes on his merry way! He's confused why all the lodgers are so nervous and being nice to him all of the sudden, why creature is looking at him with a stange mix of empathy and pity. He was told he fell down the stairs, fell unconscious, and obtained a bit of an injury. He cant fathom why Frankenstein is "The only doctor who can treat him" why he has to constantly go to her for checkups. Why Maijabi is suddenly following him practically everywhere.

Hyde squeezes back control for a moment and tries the potion but it doesn't work. Maybe a bit of pain but certainly no transformation. Jekyll assumes his injury or whatever medication they're giving him to treat it somehow negated the effects

Jekyll complains about "suddenly blacking out" the lodgers know its because his soul is slippery. They tell him it must just be a side effect of the injury and not to worry

How long can they keep it secret from him? When does he find out? Does he? Does it get to be years only for him to realize that he hasn't aged? That he still needs checkups from Frankenstein? Does he learn sooner? Does a lodger crack and say it? Does he rot? Does he notice how so very cold he is. How animals act around him? It's all very interesting,,

I actually did think a bit of Jekyll's kidnappers for the amnesia kidnapping au! When drawing that lil sketch of Henry and O'Leary meeting Robert I had considered making it so O'Leary was suspicious of Lanyon like "Oh theres no news anywhere of someone matching Thomas' description who's missing. But some random people walk up claiming to know him? Begging to take him back with them?" And he'd think they were the kidnappers. But ultimately I decided against it as I felt Lanyon and Rachel were pretty clearly, genuinely concerned for "Thomas" :p

I tried playing assassins creed once, the first(?) one. But the controls were confusing and everything was sorta thrown all at me at once, and I got bored of it quickly

But! I went to the store the other day and just so happened to notice Syndicate was being sold for 15 dollars 👀 So I bought it because funky Victorian assassins and your influence! It's a bit less confusing then the first ac game I tried but why is going down or dropping so hard bdksnks. I'm having quite a bit of fun! If you dont count my rage and annoyance-, the B button refuses to cooperate with me unless I'm looting corpses >:(

The b button being the bane of my existence aside, I AM having fun! I like the funky outfits and I want to play as the girl twin (evie?) forever because her clothes are good and shes better at attacking than jacob(?) For some reason. Probably the stun her weapon has? Oh well! I have not unlocked any new outfits yet, nonetheless I wish there were more.

Also! I was thimking, and my current quests are taking place at 1868? Did I get that right? And Jekyll is like 35 in 1885. So in game he'd be 18! An au like I believe you mentioned sounds very interesting 👀 but I must play more to know what's going on and daydream about it

That would be the resurrection au <3

But god, I really like that branch! Especially combined with the hc that he can't feel pain bc the HJ7 and the transformations made him immune. Frankenstein patched him up and made fleshweaver to heal the crack in his skull but it still has to be bandaged, he surely broke a few bones, yet all he has to do is to be careful because it doesn't even hurt. He doesn't even realize how severe the injuries are because it doesn't hurt, it very well might just have been that he accidentally slipped at the bottom of the staircase and accidentally hit his head on the railing during his fall, rather than getting physically pushed and flying down the stairs, shattering his skull upon impact with the marble floor. Y'know what would be extra fun? If he only starts getting a bit suspicious about how severe the injury was once he realizes his lungs stop breathing for minutes at a time when he gets distracted, or his heartbeat stops dead in his chest. I know that that's not how biology or even creature works but lets say the HJ7 is funky, Zombie Jekyll my beloved. Perhaps he would only fully grasp what had happened once he blacked out too much and 'passed out', but his soul slipped out enough to leave his body unconscious on the floor while his soul/ghost was just... Watching. And it's not until Maijabi (who, as you said, follows him everywhere) immediately calls for more Lodgers saying that Henry's soul is getting unstable and Frankenstein's lousy job is starting to shine through that he fully understands that it was not a mere hit to the head. Or maybe it is when days, weeks, maybe months has passed and the headache never goes away, he only feels how his body starts feeling so much more... Fragile and delicate, that the guilt has eaten Helsby up alive and he corners him and spills everything, knowing he is going directly against what the group agreed to but not being able to keep it a secret much longer-- or maybe Creature would tell him immediately, once Henry is, for once, alone perhaps days after the initial accident. He cannot see Henry struggle to understand what is going on when he already knows what's happening to Henry, his mind, and his body. He doesn't listen to the plan that Frankenstein and the Lodgers has set up and immediately tells Henry the first moment they are alone. That would certainly be horrifying, I can only imagine how the Lodgers would find Henry after that, once he actually knows and manages to process everything. He would be so mad, not only to have been killed in the first place, but also because he was robbed of an afterlife because the Lodgers were selfish and could not accept the consequences of their actions. He would be mad, he would be so pissed and I have no doubt he might actually be mad at Maijabi too for even agreeing to help Frankenstein and the rest of the Lodgers. That anger would not stay long, though. That anger would soon turn into misery and sadness and paranoia so even as Henry has tried to push Maijabi away, Henry still ends up on his doorstep begging him to help him make sure he is not rotting, because no matter what anyone says, he is sure he can see rotten spots and patches on his skin and he is just so scared and jdhfjsdfdsfsfs... <3

Ooooooohhh, I was actually daydreaming about this just this morning! Granted, I woke up at 5 and began to daydream to fall asleep quicker but I still like the thought of O'Leary being suspicious of Robert/Rachel/Jasper/the Lodgers bc he is protective of 'Thomas' and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him and especially with the idea that Henry still has hallucinations and they both think he was abandoned by his family, left to rot at a mental asylum. O'Leary might very well think that it might be Henry's friends and family that dumped him that Henry had 'escaped' the hospital and that's why they knew he was missing since the Asylum itself obviously wouldn't have posted the news... I really liked Jeks idea, okay? Like a lot, I absolutely love it <3

Oh, the oldest AC game I played was Unity bc it was free after the Notre Dame fire, and I can confirm, I played 15 min and could not get through it even if i would have wanted to, it absolutely sucks so i have no doubt the older games are just as frustrating <3

BUT!!!! I'M SO GLAD MY CORRUPTION IS SPREADING AND YOU BOUGHT AND PLAYED IT AND ARE ENJOYING IT SO FAR!!! Trust me, Syndicate truly is an absolutely amazing game and is definitely one of my top 3 games of all time. I sometimes play it w my friend watching me play and trust me, I know that rage of trying to do smt but the character does smt else... or you try to do smt but the game doesn't react and you miss your chance... Oh well, still a wonderful game <3

My friend loves to play as Evie as well but I'm definitely playing Jacob every chance I get and I honestly get a lil pissy when I have to play as Evie bc I always prefer to play male characters, plus, I just like Jacob better bc he is a sweetheart. He is also canonically bisexual as hell!!! Have you met Abberline yet? The police officer? Him and Jacob together is one of my fave ships for the game. I also bought the ultimate/golden/whatever name it was edition so I had a bunch of extra outfits, I love the sherlock holmes outfit for Jacob but my friend keeps bullying me for it </3

Honestly? The time difference is the bane of my entire idea for the au bc if it's during their time Henry hasn't even graduated yet, and definitely not well-known enough for them to actively meet for whatever reason, and if you use the timeline for the jack the ripper dlc (in 1888) a lot of... Less than pleasant things happen so it wouldn't really make a lot of sense for a crossover to happen at that point but maybe it's just bc im a pussy and refuse to play the dlc. Rn, while imagining the au, I just imagine the 1868 timeline to be the same as the TGS timeline. I like to imagine the Frye Twins hearing about Henry and the Society and promptly breaking into his office to ask him to make poison and stuff for them. I also have a feeling that Jacob would flirt wildly with Henry and that Henry would be less-than-amused. It would also be a very fun thing with the fact that there would be two Henrys, with TGS Henry Jekyll and AC Syndicate Henry Green, soo... XD

#Man I really want to hear your journey through syndicate!!!#Oh man I cant wait until you meet Maxwell #and Crawford for that matter #he was the guy I based the crawford in the fic off of bc i had no idea what else to do <3 #OHH there would also be a lot of mixup with Lucy Thorne and TGS Queen Lucy #oh i can imagine them being rivals #that would be fun <3 #ask #darling-dolly-darlene #banshees au #resurrection au #amnesia kidnapping au

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nebula-starlight · 3 years

Text

Sepsis (Pt. 15: Their Weapon)

He was weary and seeing the stormy gray clouds overhead as he flew only confirmed the melancholy nestled in him. How long had he been out on his mission now? It had been months since he last saw Versila, always kept busy with being the Shield he was desired of by Magnus. To be without an active task made him feel sluggish and worn down but while on the hunt his mind and senses were razor sharp. They had to be in his line of work now. Hunting down those Corrupt that plagued their beautiful lands and ending them before they could spread their vile disease to innocent others.

But even now, with only the cool damp breeze and the sounds of his own wingbeats to keep him company, he had little else to do other than reflect. Reflect on how his life had spiraled into the position he now was in. Far more than ever before he wished to have Igna in his life again. He had tried to find the tunnels he had fled from that fateful night, tried to find her broken body so he could at least give her a proper burial, but it had all been for naught. Searching the thickly overgrown woods had only left him with disappointment and a seething inner loathing that he couldn’t give the only friendly spirit he’d known for moons one simple act of kindness in return. She was like a mother to him deep in his soul. A comfort to him in the darkest nights when the dreams and past terrors threatened to consume him with their long claws of fear.

There was no doubt he was happier now than he had been in his youth. He had Versila, had a job, and even held some measure of respect amongst the citizens of the Capital to his utter surprise. The repeated meetings with Magnus in private only served to further the feeling that he was on the right path for his life. Sure he seldom saw his beloved mate much between the lengthy searching for those Corrupt but she seemed to support his decision. After all, she had cried on the night he first told her of the position Magnus had offered to him. He’d thought at the time it was tears of happiness and delight but now… He scowled, gliding to another wind current that would hopefully lift him higher.

Versila… Had he caught her sneaking medication when he wasn’t looking? It had just been a brief glimpse when he saw the bottle she hastily shoved deep into a drawer before kissing him as she left to go to her job. Why would she not bring up that she was ill to him? Did she not trust him? Surely whatever it was they could face it together as they always had since becoming joined in union. Perhaps if time allowed he would ask her about such things when he arrived home. He doubted Magnus would send him out again without a day or two of rest.

Overall it was the end of a long task he was looking forward to as he finally caught sight over the vast rolling plains of their gleaming, towering Capital. He was so close to being back home he could almost taste it and the sight seemed to breathe fresh strength into his weary wings. Soon he would see her again and put to ease the doubts that had begin to nag at the back of his mind.

Glancing at the few brave soldiers under his command who had survived and were accompanying him back, he gave his instructions with a silent nod. They had their lives to return to and, if needed, he would call for them each separately to provide details for the statement that was to be delivered to The Council. They flew in close formation, each a varying shade of gray or black depending on their level of exposure to Corruption save for him who had been made to be a weapon against the dark. Taking the lead, Nethreis guided them over the Capital, calling out with a bellow to those who guarded the outer walls of the high city.

“The Shadowcrest return! No shoot!”

Once he was assured they would not be attacked by those who did not recognize the armor or what it stood for, he circled around the grand city with his following troops before taking to the well cared grounds in front of The Council’s observatory skyrise. Nethreis landed first, wincing as he folded his weary wings against his side and turned to thank each member who had returned with him. There would be time to mourn those lost once the fight was well and truly won and he knew those under his command knew it likewise.

“Each go and rest. I see to statement personally.”

The older of his soldiers nodded in relief and took flight with warm wishes that it would be quick and uneventful while some of the newer, younger troops seemed unsure. His eyes scanned over theirs, seeing a mix of eager anticipation of rest and apprehension that he would still be in need of their services.

“Be with yours. This is mine task.” He kept his voice gentle, trying to persuade them to trust his words and see to their own restful recovery following the long journey that had taken them months to complete.

Even after the last of those under his command left he still stayed, watching long into the distance at the dim auburn hue of the sun’s fading light upon the thick clouds along the horizon. Perhaps his report could wait until morning to deliver? They had made excellent time in returning and his last correspondence with Magnus had ensured the Councilmember that they would be “arriving within a fortnight should Soleil bless them with strong winds.” That deadline was in fact in the morning and he was, quite frankly, exhausted from the return flight. Besides, Versila had to be missing him terribly and he longed for her so much…

Making up his mind, he turned and started down the worn cobblestone towards the housing district of the city. A goodnight’s rest was very much owed him and he would gladly take it before relaying the news of their vast quest over the wild lands beyond the Capital. With any luck he’d surprise Versila as well and she would be overjoyed to welcome him safely home.

—————

He looked around the messy interior of the house he had bought for them with the money he received from his promotion to being the leader of the Shadowcrest at Magnus’s proposal. She had never been one to let things go into such disarray before and it frightened him deep inside to think for just a moment that perhaps the home had been ransacked by street scum looking to make easy money. Growling, he shook his head, reminding himself that at one point his Versila was among those who roamed the Capital streets begging for food or shelter from the cold.

Glancing again at the broken mirror overhead of the empty, burnt out fireplace, he twitched at the creak of wood from behind him. Turning, his eyes glowed as fire rose in his throat and the instinct of being ambushed by those tainted nearly overtook him before the source of the noise spoke up softly.

“Oh, you came home. She’s not here. Hasn’t been for days now. But- But nothing is stolen or missing, Monsieur Shield.” Their neighbor, an elderly air spirit, stuttered from the open doorway into the house.

Nethreis forced himself to relax, fire cooling even as his shoulders stiffened in alarm. Where was his beloved? Why would she just up and leave without telling anyone? Had she even told anyone? His crimson eyes blinked as he tried to reign his swirling thoughts in so he could hear if the old spirit chose to say more. When several minutes passed in awkward silence he realized that he was the one who needed to respond.

“Thank… Does anyone know where went?”

“No sir. Charlia even went to check with the Healers but she never reported to work either. I’m just lucky my wife happened to see you walking home.”

So Versila hadn’t gone to work then… Work was her source of peace, he supposed. She’d said once that her working there was a way for her to atone for her sins but at the time he hadn’t understood what she meant. Even now he was uncertain but he quickly decided it might be wise if he went to the Healers personally to inquire. As much as he trusted Charlia and Atros, they were still common members of spirit society.

“Appreciate tell.” He nodded, shifting uneasily as a plan started to form in his head of how best to go about getting information. Rest would have to wait for now until he knew more.

“Don’t stress over it. If you want you can sleep at our place for the night. No offense but you look about ready to drop where you stand.”

Nethreis ignored the remark, eyes flickering back to the shattered mirror again. Why break a mirror? Was there something in her reflection that Versila didn’t wish to see? She had never expressed a reservation about the mirror before that he could recall. Yet for some reason he kept glancing at the broken shards as though they held an important piece of the puzzle.

“Monsieur Shield…?”

Cold crimson eyes darted back to the old spirit with bitter disdain as for but a second the illusions faltered to show the orange scars along Nethreis’s dark scales. “Leave.”

He didn’t bother to see if Atros obeyed the request or not, putting a forepaw to his chest in a moment of silent self reflection. If he could just find her or find where she might have gone… Maybe his distance had left her feeling hurt or abandoned? Naturally he never wanted her to feel that way but he had to follow the orders of The Council and Magnus. It was just like when he was out hunting down the Corrupt. He just had to find a strand to be able to track them down. Now he had to use that same technique to find his beloved and get answers.

Sleep was no longer an option to him for the foreseeable future it seemed. He had far more pressing matters than allowing himself to relax now. And he wouldn’t stop until he knew the truth.

—————

Going to see the Healers had not given him what he had expected to find. While it was true Versila had not checked in to work in several days, one younger member of the group had seen her the day before she stopped coming in and she had “seemed off.” He tried to ask for more clarification but was shooed away and told trying to question her would only complicate the current murder investigation underway. That was troubling news as killings simply were never openly talked about within cities. They still happened of course but almost immediately got swept under the rug by whoever the spirit ruling over that particular area was.

But Nethreis was determined to know and so he decided to find out by questionable means. By which he took a seat outside and seemed to sink into the evening shadows, becoming as invisible as the approaching night so he could listen in without being in danger of being discovered. Truthfully it was a power he seldom used because extended, prolonged duration tired him out but with how dire things were he figured the risk of pushing himself further into exhaustion was well worth it.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to discover why it was so secretive. It wasn’t every day one of the Lead Healers went ballistic and murdered another in the same practice. He knew the levels of panic that would instill in the common citizens and quickly retreated from his shadowy hole that he’d been listening in. When he resurfaced it took him a moment to steady his breathing, the last bit of news he’d heard as he left hitting him in the chest just as sharp as a whip. His beloved was last seen fleeing in the night out of the city and out towards the mountains that rose to the north.

He blinked, feeling hot, inky tears roll down his cheeks. It… It had to be wrong. Versila wasn’t like that. Surely something had to have happened for it to be… for her to… to… She wasn’t a killer! But what if it wasn’t her anymore? What if somehow she’d become infected? They’d said her color was starting to gray in spots and ke knew that as a sign of one exposed to Corruption. Finding her, even in the dead of night, had to be his single focus now. No matter how much his wings ached as he flared them and rose to his feet. She was a part of him and there was no mistaking the hollowness that felt like a weight tugging at his soul. Wherever she was, she needed him.

Glowing irises surveyed the skies for a moment before he threw himself upwards into the air and immediately all thoughts ceased in his head. All except the realization it was a hunt and he very much enjoyed indulging in those with anewed sharpened senses. Magnus would be pleased if he got rid of another poisoned by the vile darkness. Relation didn’t matter in a hunt. It just got in the way of enjoying the satisfaction of killing. At least maybe this time he could bring back a trophy to remember later.

As far as Nethreis Ignis comprehended things, he had his next task all without even having to be issued one by those greater in position than he. Surely Magnus would be delighted that he went to confront and subdue another potentially Corrupt entirely on his own. He had the Councilmember’s favor after all and that was vital to his reputation within the Capital. For now his flight would take him to the Northern Mountains no doubt where snow fell year round upon the lofty jagged peaks. Should her coloration still be mostly pristine ivory, tracking her would be somewhat challenging in the arctic terrain. A hunter never turned away from a hunt they believed themselves capable of winning.

He forced his wings down, catching an uprising draft and began to ascend, screeching a challenge as far as his voice would carry. Their home would be free from the vileness of Corruption and he would make it so as his most sacred vow. None tainted should have a home within the gilded gates and now, with his hunt newly begun, he bellowed again a warning into the biting winds. If by chance she sought to return, whether innocent or not, she would need to pass by him first. The Capital’s Shield was his title and he wore it with the utmost pride a spirit of his caliber could. Relaxing his still weary muscles, he set his crimson sights on the white blanketed cliffs towering in the distance and flew onward in complete silence.

#sepsis #part 1 of the finale #nether #versi

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kibleedibleedoo · 4 years

Text

Hero of your own fate

Chapter 3

Thorin x Reader

summary: the company set off from Bagend and decide to stay in a tavern along the way.

Warnings: none, mentions of difficulty sleeping and sexism

~Reader's POV~

It was an early start the day we set off from Bagend. The sun was only just starting to rise as Balin gently shook the company awake. Most were not too happy with this occurrence as the drinking and partying had only ceased an hour or two earlier. You could see how torn over waking Mr. Baggins Balin was. Eventually with a nod of arrival from Thorin and Gandalf it was decided that there was no point waking the hobbit if he was not going to join you all on the quest. Items were packed away in preparation and the dwarves vacated Bagend leaving it as though they were never there, leaving only his unsigned contract. You chuckled at the thought that Bilbo may wake up to believe the night before was all a dream. Hell, this might all be a dream to you, but it seemed so real and Gandalf kept assuring you that this was your new reality for the time being.

At the edge of Hobbiton was the stable that housed the 16 ponies and Gandalf’s horse that would be carrying you on your journey. You felt slightly bad looking at them carrying all the baggage, but the others assured you that they would be fine and that they were bred for the purpose. Balin showed you to your pony, a sandy coloured horse named Mustard, who was already saddled up with the little items you owned here and needed for the quest. You rearranged your bag, moving your personal valuables to your pockets and attaching your bag to the pony.

“You looking for a wager lass?” Nori piped up upon seeing you take a coin purse out of the bag. “say two gold coins that Mister Baggins won’t be joining us.” It sounded like a sure bet for him.

The other dwarves seemed to be muttering to themselves seemingly betting on the same situation. You looked across to Gandalf for reassurance since you weren’t entirely sure how much you would be losing after all. He gave you a sly wink.

“you have a bet” you rebutted holding your hand out to confirm the bet. Smirking, Nori took your hand and confirmed the bet.

“on your own head be it lass” Balin chuckled as others continued making bets before mounting their ponies. Thorin watched over seemingly unamused with the whole bartering fiasco waiting for us all to mount our ponies before mounting his and leading us all away from the shire. The journey had begun.

It was maybe 15 minutes into the journey when you faintly heard a voice cry out for us to halt. Mister Baggins had decided to join us after all. He ran up to Balin and handed him the contract.

“everything seems to be in order” Balin mused

“get him a pony” Thorin commanded. It was only then that he drew your attention from the new addition to the company. It seemed that he had stopped in the perfect place, the sun shone through the trees making it look like he was being anointed by God. Before letting Bilbo complain Thorin was already leading the train onwards. Bilbo was hoisted onto a nearby pony by Fili and Kili despite his protests.

“Oi Nori” you shouted catching the attention of the other dwarves “pay up” the dwarf groaned in annoyance and threw you a small bag of coins. At that the rest of the company began tossing coins to each other with some cheers and groans mixed in. Bilbo seemed more confused by the company’s antics than he was the night before.

The company had slept rough the first few nights of the quest, hoping to save the few precious coins they possessed, but as the sky grew black it was decided it would be best to stop for the night in a tavern in Bree. The Prancing Pony to be exact. Even though we were in the territory of men one room would be far too small to fit all 16 members of the company even with folk sleeping on the floor. The tavern staff were not exactly too keen on a woman sleeping with a group of men, especially since they already employed ladies to sleep with their patrons. Little did they know your relationship with the members of the company was merely platonic. It was agreed upon that the company would split up for the night groups would be up to the dwarves willing to pay for the rooms.

Oin and Gloin decided they could afford a room away from the snoring of the others, however not all could afford that luxury. As tinkers and traders, a group of six formed, consisting of Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, and Ori. Which thankfully ruled out the heavy snorers who had been keeping you awake recently. Still not happy with a woman being left alone with half the company, the tavern owners demanded once more that the remaining group split up once more. It was not like there were other options of inns to choose from, Bree was not accustomed to seeing frequent travelers cross its border, save for the occasional ranger.

“If this is so much of a hassle please just let me pay for my own room” you finally cried out, far too tired to tolerate the constant bickering that seemed to be part of the package when it came to travelling with dwarves. This pricked Thorin’s attention.

“I do not trust realm of men to leave a woman unprotected” Thorin growled partly directed at you and partly directed towards the tavern owner, “I WILL TAKE A ROOM WITH THE GIRL, THE REST OF THEM WILL TAKE THE OTHER ROOM” Thorin demanded causing the owner to take a step back. Balin placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder and they exchanged a nod. Thorin stepped forward to place a coin on the bar but you reached out to stop him.

“No. Please” you begged looking him in the eyes for the first time intentionally “I’m the reason for this mess, the least I could do is pay my way” you pleaded already placing the required coinage on the bar. He huffed not entirely agreeing with the situation, but he didn’t want to argue any further. We were all far too tired.

In the room Thorin immediately claimed the side of the bed the closest to the door. It felt like he was guiding you and your actions without uttering a single word. His presence was intense making the whole room tense and claustrophobic and yet his only action was to sit on the bed looking towards the door.

“I can look after myself you know, before this I lived an independent life” you muttered trying to cut through some of the tension.

“You are not accustomed to the ways of the wild, it is not safe especially for a woman” Thorin protested “dwarrow-dams are hardier and some are trained in the art of battle, yet our women are too precious to be allowed to participate in a quest as dangerous as this. Compared to them you are defenseless” He barked in rebuttal.

“I’m sorry, I just meant that no one needs to be looking out for me, especially if it hinders the quest” you sigh “I just don’t want to be a burden” Thorin softened at that remark still not turning to face you.

“Go to sleep, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow come rain or shine” This sounded more like advice than his usual commands. You took a moment to quickly change into your pyjamas and climb into the bed.

“Goodnight Thorin sweet dreams”

-Thorin’s POV”

The logical side of Thorin told him not to offer, but his culture and his heart demanded he must protect this girl. As soon as he saw the double bed however, he realised he had made a mistake. By being a gentleman and refusing to listen to his logical side he had allowed her in. You had snuck past all those walls he had built up over the years to protect himself and taken root in his heart. Mahal had both cursed and blessed him. You wished him goodnight as you slipped under the covers.

“sweet dreams”

That phrase lit something inside of him. Little did you know Thorin had been suffering from nightmares for decades. He struggled to get enough sleep to make it through a day without anyone catching on, but he knew the feeling of going past the point of tired far too well. Thorin watched your chest rise and fall as you slowly drifted off to sleep. He wanted to join you in the land of slumbering bliss. He pulled off his shirt and left only his underclothes in place and crawled under the covers as well. Just as he settled in you shuffled to face in his direction. He worried he had woken you, but from the little snores it seemed you were only fidgeting. Thorin found himself relaxing, relaxing far more than he had in decades. This was not the place to be relaxed but with you in the bed next to him he couldn’t help drifting off to sleep as tiredness and images of you as his queen (exiled or not) overcame him. This was to be the first in a long list of nights that would see Thorin sleep peacefully until dawn broke.

A/N I do not own any of the GIFs used or the characters in the story. This seems long but it was probably going to be at least double if I had stuck with my original chapter plan alas here you go 😘

#thorin x reader #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield #king thorin #Kilby writes

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heavenly-sadness · 3 years

Text

Letting go hurts. Admitting defeat hurts. Forcing yourself to realize truths you don’t want to hear hurts. Being the one more invested, in love, committed, that hurts. But realizing it, that is what hurts the most.

I feel like emotionally I’ve set up some kind of boundary. I really wanted to have him to kind of lean on. For him to have the quest to give me the attention and love that I couldn’t give myself. I wanted him to be the one telling me that I was worth something, that someone I loved valued me - because if that person did, then maybe so could I? I think the feelings of sorrow and loneliness was actually me realizing that it just wasn’t enough. Him, on the other side of the planet, wasn’t enough for me to fall in love with myself. I have been so sad and I have shed so many, many tears. I have had my stomach aching first thing in the morning. I have had my mind racing - seeing the world crash before me were he to one day decide he no longer would want me. I think all of that sadness kind of did something to me. I feel like I suddenly realized things I tried to tell myself before. All the amazing feelings, memories and experiences with this person - was with one person on the planet. Imagine all the other amazing feelings and experiences waiting in that endless sea of other beautiful people. No matter how hard I’ve tried to tell myself that before I just haven’t been susceptible to it. The heartbreak of losing the person I felt I had was too great to even consider what was still left to experience. The world is huge and can offer so much. I found him, right? I thought I'd never fall in love again, or to have the honor of someone loving me. But I did, and he did too. He is just one person, out of plenty more. We’ve experienced such crazy and amazing things. I wrote him a letter with the words ”you gave me the love story I have read about in romance novels” once. To this day I really have to stand by those words. He really did. He gave me a love story more fiery and passionate than I thought could be found in the real world.

He held my hand every second he could. No matter if it was sweaty. He protected me in the subway, holding his arms around me were someone to knock into me. He told me I was beautiful, every single time we met. He carried my bag, even when I used to slap his arm and tell him he was dorky for doing it. He took me any place I wanted to go. One week into knowing me he surprised me with my two favorite dishes and a cake to celebrate my birthday since he couldn’t be with me on the day itself. He gave me late night deep talks in cozy bars. He gave me steamy cab-rides home. He took a detour half way across town to be able to see me for 15 minutes before he had to take the last train. He bought me food, even when I asked him not to, because he wanted to. He introduced me to his neighbors, to the man owning his favorite restaurant, to his friends. He always asked me how I had slept the night before. He used to send me texts to check up on me during the day. He gave me my dream trip to the most beautiful city by the sea. He gave me the sunday morning slowly waking up for hours with the sun slowly creeping in through the curtains of the room on the 70th floor of the hotel. He gave me soft kisses on my nose when I was lying on his chest while he was working. He stroked my leg even when he didn’t think about it. He made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe. He would laugh at me, that kind of laugh you can’t control, making me feel like I was funny. He sometimes looked at me in that special way after a deep conversation, to finally say ”you impress me every day”. One time we had gone a week without seeing each other and we were lying in his bed, we both started laughing at something to the point of it being hard to talk until we both finally took a deep breath and in that same breath we both said ”I have really missed you”. That was, and still is, so special to me. He did all the things I would cringe at others doing. He took my straw out of the paper and put it in my soda and even folded it so I could drink it easier. He sung me serenades. He did such dorky, cringe-worthy, lovey-dovey things. He followed me to the airport. He was by my side until a gate separated us. He held my eyes until our gazes didn’t meet anymore. And all of this, was without asking him to be that way. All of this being things I have wanted since I first read of love. All of this being things I thought only happened in movies. He gave me the validation that a love like that exists. He gave me so many happy memories.

We had so many sides that were like made for each other, that were so good. We shared most of the same humor. We both impressed each other. We both loved food and sex. We both loved singing. We both loved adventure. We both loved life.

That being said, we had equally as many sides that just crashed completely. Some of them being the same toxic traits we shared. We were both so incredibly stubborn. So incredibly proud. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one to apologize. And when two people go around both thinking they deserve an apology it get’s pretty difficult to solve almost anything.

He was immature. He could almost never argue in a ”sensible” way and he hated when he thought I was being ”smart” or ”logical” during an argument. To be honest I never knew what he meant. How else would you solve a conflict? He would sometime answer my text messages with ”ok” just to piss me off. And he would succeed every time. He liked playing these power games, where he would just take away a bit of his love if he was mad. He would get pretty mean and tell me hurtful things when he was mad at me. He graded his love for me and more than once he would imply that I loved him more than he loved me. I think I was too stuck in the good fairy-tale memories to be able to see the toxicity for what it was rather than become a needy heroin-addict craving more shots, which is what I became. For some reason I fully believed that my world as I knew it would come crashing down if he were to decide to take away this precious love he gave me. But how precious was it? He got mad at me a lot. He got jealous, even though he still kept a girl he used to sleep with as one of his best friends. He never wanted to listen to me explain misunderstandings. It was almost like he didn’t want to solve fights. He would get annoyed when we didn’t share the same opinion instead of trying to see my side of the story. He would criticize what I posted on my social media leaving messages like ”geez, someone needs fucking attention”. I posted my belly while tanning and he said he didn’t know me anymore. He actually even said he wanted to break up with me because of it. He ripped my selfconfidence apart to the point not even tears wanted my company. Turns out that it’s much harder to cry without tears than with them. He slowly became darker. Like a darkness from within spreading inside him, a little more noticeable each fight. That time, with the picture, it became more visible than before. I could almost see the dark thing behind him, now fully present, whisper things in his ear. He became emotionabusive. Had he been next to me, and not on the other side of the earth, I am pretty sure that he would’ve hit me. The tone became threatening, saying he should let me go because I apparently was so much of an attention whore that he couldn’t give me what I wanted. No matter how I tried to explain that it was all a mistake and that I wasn’t seeking anyone else’s attention but his, he was stuck in his threat of ”letting me go”. I almost wanted him to. Because at that time, even in the moment, I felt that it was incredibly unhealthy. I asked him what he wanted me to do - and to not post anything on social media was the response. I told him I was sorry and that I loved him and his reply was ”I don’t care if you love me less as long as you learn to fucking listen to what I am telling you”. Controlling, jealous and demanding. The traits that didn’t fit into my little fairytale.

That night I realized I felt happier on the days when we didn’t speak. I realized my confidence was higher the days we didn’t speak. I realized he was in fact not adding to my self worth at all, he was stripping me of what little worth I thought I had. Again, he was using my pure heart against me. He used my love, and his lack of it, meticulously. Like a hockey team during power play. Holding me over the fire until I squirmed the way he wanted me to, then he would retract me from it just to later put me back over again. Saying ”I want to let you go” having me answer with ”I don’t want this. I love you. But if this is truly what you want, that would break my heart, but then that’s it.” to just reply with ”Oh, so you are not even gonna fight for it. Fine then that’s it”. He was playing rat and mouse. Breaking me down til I was mentally, emotionally and physically on my knees just begging him to not stop talking to me. Even then he had to add ”I wish I could tell you that I love you right now”. But noticing I was so broken, to mend the bruises he added ”I will love you”, to somehow give me hope I guess. As if love was an on/off switch.

I have never before in my life found myself in an abusive relationship. He had showed me tendencies during the fairytale-play but never to this extent. I guess this is how it works for everyone. They wait until you are so emotionally hooked that you would stay through whatever. And I did.

#toxic relationship #toxic ex #iwritewhenimsad #breakup #controlling #love hurts

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skepticalcatfrog · 4 years

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Shattered Crown Chapter 15

First Chapter Previous Chapter Masterpost

Summary: After disaster strikes in Prince Roman's kingdom, he must go on a quest in order to take back the crown that is rightfully his. He will travel with three companions on an epic adventure, gaining many friends and enemies along the way. Those three companions are an intelligent inventor with a mysterious past, a cheerful wizard with a dark secret, and... the assassin who was sent to kill him two years prior.

Pairings: Logicality and Prinxiety

Word count: 4,629

Author's Notes: Well, this is it! The last chapter. I can't believe how far this series has come since the first chapter. I never thought I'd have a single reader, much less write a last chapter! I'm very thankful for everyone who's read and enjoyed this series.

Important Author's Notes: This is a new section of the Author's Notes, but since it's the last chapter, I felt like I needed it! As some of you may or may not know, I'm already working on my next fic, which will probably be released sometime soon. If you'd like to be tagged in it, or just added to my general writing taglist, you can send an ask or say so in a reply to this chapter.

Roman knew something was wrong immediately. He was still in the throne room, which meant that everyone else had been moved around the castle. He was especially terrified since he knew that he was the main target in this attack. He took out his sword, just in case.

He looked around the room nervously, backing himself into a wall so no one could sneak up on him. That wasn't a very smart action, since he had made it so that if anyone were to attack him, he would have nowhere to run. He began running through a plan in his head. He was going to stay where he was for a little while, then if none of his friends came back, he would go looking for them. He really hoped they were okay.

After a little while of waiting, and occasionally pacing around the room, he decided that he had to find them himself. He went to a hidden door at the back of the room to get out, in case the other ones had traps on them or something. But, just as he was about to grab the doorknob, a sheet of yellow light rapidly slid down in front of it. Roman pulled his hand away as it did, because something told him that it wouldn't end well if he touched the light. He turned and looked around the room, only to find that they all had that magical shield over them. Of course, he knew who was behind it right away.

"Ethan! I know you're around here somewhere!" He called out, walking to the middle of the room. His hands were shaking, but he maintained a tight grip on his sword. "What did you do with Virgil, Patton, and Logan?"

"Why don't I answer your question with another question." Ethan stepped out from behind the king's throne. He had Roman's father's crown on, seemingly just to taunt him. "Did you ever consider what would happen if my mind alone was more powerful than all four of yours combined?"

Roman found himself instinctively backing up as Ethan walked towards him. His brain was yelling at him, telling him he was making a mistake, but he didn't listen. And soon he was backed into the corner. He felt like a mouse, cowering in a corner as he stared into the face of a snake who wouldn't hesitate to cause him harm. Roman was the one with the sword, but he suddenly didn't trust himself to use it anymore. Not around someone who was able to mind control him in the blink of an eye.

"What. Did. You. Do." Roman asked again, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to look more brave than he felt.

"You'll find out soon, I'm sure." Ethan turned and walked away. Roman chased after him.

Ethan was wearing a cape, Roman was sure that if he tried he could grab it and get him to stop walking. But when he reached for it, Ethan raised his hand in the air and Roman found that he couldn't move anymore. This threw off his momentum and he started falling forward. Ethan lowered his hand, and Roman fell flat on his face, dropping his sword in the process. The snake spun around, doing a classic evil laugh as Roman got up and dusted himself off.

"Oh my, that was even funnier than I'd expected it to be!" Ethan cackled. "You really should learn not to mess with someone who knows how to use magic."

"Well that's what I'm here to do, isn't it?" Roman glared at him. "It's just you and me. There's no one else here, and since you seem so confident, why not just fight me right now?"

"Oh, I'll definitely be fighting you right now." Ethan smirked. "But you're wrong about me doing it alone."

Right on cue, Logan and Patton entered the room. Roman gasped upon seeing them.

"No…" He stared at them with wide eyes.

"It's difficult, needing to fight your friends, isn't it?" Ethan had a hint of a frown on his face. He stepped backwards, and Logan stepped forward. "That's too bad."

"Okay, listen, I don't want to fight you Logan." Roman held his hand out. "If you'd just go back to being you, then we could-"

Logan didn't even let him finish his sentence. Moving with the precision of a trained warrior, he hit Roman in the side of the head with his mechanical fist. While Roman was still shocked from that hit, the inventor kicked him in the ribs, causing him to fall over backwards. The metal in his arm had given Roman a cut, which was now bleeding. He brought his hand to the side of his head, staring at it in shock when it came back red. He had never thought any of his friends could ever hurt him, but maybe these weren't his friends. He got back to his feet, scrambling to get his sword from where he'd dropped it earlier. With his sword in hand again, he turned back to Logan. As opposed to Roman, Logan didn't have a single scratch on him.

Since Logan was standing so still, Roman gave himself the opportunity to try and hit him. He charged towards him, holding his sword at his side. When he got close enough, Logan grabbed him by the wrist and used his momentum to trip him, ripping the sword from his hand. Roman found himself on the floor for the third time in the past ten minutes, with his own sword pointed at him from above.

"Surrender." He heard Ethan say from wherever he was lurking.

"Never." He whispered, out of breath already from the speed of the fight.

"Fine then. Stand down." This time Ethan was addressing Logan.

The inventor used his mechanical hand to bend the sword out of shape, rendering it unusable and throwing it aside. Roman got up as quickly as possible.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Roman asked, not really talking to anyone in particular.

"Because I'm not done with you yet." Ethan answered. "As you may or may not have noticed, there's still someone you haven't fought yet."

"Don't make me fight Patton." Roman begged.

"I'm sorry, I don't take requests." Ethan replied. Patton began moving his hand in a circular motion, creating a sphere of blue magic.

"Patton, please, you have to listen to me." Roman pleaded. "This isn't you, he's mind controlling you!"

Patton didn't listen. He fired the spell at Roman. It hit him in the chest, sending him flying into the wall. He slid down to the floor. His lip was now bleeding, and he had various other cuts and bruises all over. He staggered to his feet and slowly made his way back over to Patton, trying to catch his breath.

"Look at you, trying so hard to be resilient." Ethan hissed. "And to think, you were so wrapped up in trying to win a losing fight that you didn't even notice…"

"Notice what?" Roman asked between breaths.

"Someone's missing from our little gathering." Ethan responded.

Roman looked around. He hadn't even thought to check, he had just seen Logan and Patton and assumed everything was fine. But then he realized…

"Where's Virgil?" He asked, pure fear dropping down on him like a weight.

"There's no need to worry." Ethan snapped his fingers and Virgil appeared near the edge of the room. He was curled up on the floor crying, not even noticing that he'd been moved. "He's right here."

Roman ran towards Virgil. All he wanted to do was tell him that everything was going to be okay, to comfort him at least a little bit. But as he ran, he collided with an invisible wall. He managed to keep his balance, but took a few steps backwards out of shock.

"He won't be able to see you anyway. Or hear you for that matter." Ethan walked over to stand next to him. The defense part of Roman's brain was going off like an alarm, but he ignored it. He took a step closer and dropped to his knees, placing his hand on the wall. He glanced at Ethan.

"I hate you." He muttered. "The only one you're after is me, so why do you have to hurt them too?"

"Virgil and Patton were always liabilities to me. The other one is working with the rest of you." Ethan explained. "It's as simple as that. Now, stand up, we're not done yet. This is to the death."

He moved his hand in an upward motion and Roman stood up.

"I came here to make this kingdom better. Stronger." Ethan told him, turning and walking away. "I thought that, since I was raised by royalty, I could improve the lives of everyone here."

"I was raised by royalty too. My father was the best king this kingdom had ever seen." Roman curled his hands into fists. "Why are you telling me your motive? It's not like that's going to change anything."

"Think about it this way. A kingdom can't exist without a ruler. It would most definitely fall into chaos. So riddle me this: what exactly makes a ruler?" Ethan continued, not caring about whatever Roman had to say, and not giving him a chance to respond. "A crown. A crown makes the ruler, and a ruler makes the kingdom. And given that logic, what would happen if the crown…"

Ethan took the crown off of his head, and Roman knew exactly what was going to happen.

"Were to shatter?" Ethan swiftly turned back to face him, and with a single sharp movement in his arm, he sent the crown flying. It was delicate, because the metal on it was very thin, and the rest of it was mostly jewels. So when it hit the wall, it didn't stand a chance. The crown burst into a million pieces.

Roman slid across the floor, picking up as many pieces as he could. They were sharp, and were cutting his hands, but he didn't care at that point.

"Would you look at that. Just as I'd expected. A single object is destroyed and you lose your mind." Ethan scoffed.

Roman held the shards in his hand. The crown was well beyond repair. He felt so stupid, but he was crushed to have lost it. He let the pieces slip through his fingers and fall back to the ground. He stood back up, walking over to Ethan as calmly as possible. When he was close enough, he swung his fist in an attempt to punch him. But this time, Ethan was prepared, and caught his fist.

"You and Virgil seem to have the same tactics." Ethan deadpanned.

"Fight me without magic. I don't have my weapon, it's only fair." Roman scowled let his fist drop.

"Hm. Let me think…" Ethan pretended to think for a moment. "No."

Ethan held out his hand and a string of yellow light shot from his palm. It wrapped itself tightly around Roman's waist multiple times. Ethan held on to the string and tugged backwards sharply, sending Roman spinning right into the wall. Then he raised his hand into the air and Roman flew upwards. The throne room had a high ceiling, so he was absolutely terrified when he started to fall from it. He hit the floor hard, landing first on his side then rolling over to his back. He had a nosebleed, and was also pretty sure that his left arm was broken from the impact. All of that happened within two minutes.

Roman sat up. His vision was getting blurry, and he felt dizzy. But despite this, he managed to stand up. He spotted a rock that had fallen from the spot on the wall that he'd been thrown into by Patton. He had half of a plan.

Ethan had multiple glowing yellow strings now, three from each hand. Roman ducked under one that was coming towards his head. He used most of the rest of his energy to make a mad dash towards the rubble. He leapt forward into a roll and grabbed a stone the size of his fist, then smoothly standing again. He jumped over a stream of magic trying to trip him, and threw the rock. Then life seemed to turn to slow motion. The rock flew through the air, and since Ethan was so preoccupied with Roman, he didn't notice it. It hit him in the head, not hard enough to knock him out, but just hard enough to weaken his magic for a moment. Which was exactly what Roman had been going for.

Logan and Patton blinked a few times, and raised their hands to their heads in a synchronized motion. They looked to each other, pulling one another into a tight hug. But that only lasted a moment before they realized where they were and what was happening. They both scanned the room before locking eyes with Roman. The prince silently said 'help', and they both seemed to get the message.

Roman had hit the end of his rope and he knew it. His whole body hurt like hell, his face was bleeding in multiple places, his head still hurt from where it had been hit those three times, and his broken arm felt like it was being torn off. But he held on, because he knew he was still needed in the fight. His eyes wanted to close, he just wanted to finally give up and be done, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had to do this for his friends, his kingdom, and most of all Virgil.

Logan and Patton, to Ethan's surprise, had been officially broken out of their mind control. He tried to hit them with the streams of magic, but Patton sent out his own. He tied them all in a big knot, and soon they all dissolved into nothing. Logan took the daggers that Virgil had given him out of his pocket. He threw one of them, which gave Ethan a cut near his shoulder. The sorcerer let out a frustrated cry.

Virgil, who had also been freed from Ethan's magic, had backed up against the wall. He studied the scene. Logan and Patton seemed to be fighting for themselves again. Ethan had been injured, which was a start. Then his eyes settled on Roman. His boyfriend looked like he would collapse at any second. Virgil could barely stand the sight. He knew he had to join in the battle, but he didn't know if he was brave enough to do it. Fighting back all the doubts in his mind, he took out the Shadow Blades and ran towards the battle.

Ethan had regenerated the glowing strings, and was using the same attack on Logan and Patton that he'd used on Roman previously. But before he could complete it, Virgil used the blades to slice through the strings. Roman's face lit up as he saw Virgil.

Ethan sent out more and more attacks trying to stop Virgil from getting closer, but whatever he did, the assassin easily made it disappear with the blades. They weakened magic, this was what they were meant to do. Virgil was so confident in the blades that he even closed his eyes, and they lead him through the room. Soon enough, he'd reached Ethan. He placed the flat side of the blade against his neck.

"Patton?" Virgil called out, hoping that his friend could still hear him. "Bind his hands and feet."

Patton nodded and held out his hand. Blue chains sprouted from his fingertips and wound themselves around Ethan's wrists and ankles.

"They're magic resistant. You can't do anything anymore." Patton told him.

"Roman, would you like to do the honors?" Logan asked. Roman simply nodded, saving his energy for the next thing he had to do. He walked unsteadily to stand in front of Ethan.

"What are you going to do?" Ethan scowled, knowing he'd been defeated. "Kill me?"

"No." Roman shook his head. "Unlike you, I'm not a murderer. I believe you deserve the same treatment you gave someone else a long time ago."

Roman glanced to Patton for help. Patton nodded, standing next to him.

"You are officially banished from this kingdom. You may never step foot within these walls ever again, as long as you may live." Roman recited. He had learned how to banish someone quite a while ago, but he had never used it until then. But, he wasn't done yet. He wanted to add some rules of his own. "You are forbidden to cause harm to the four of us ever again, and you are not allowed within thirty miles of Patton's home in any given direction. Alright, that is all."

Patton held out both his hands, with his palms facing his brother. A blue light appeared, completely surrounding Ethan. When it disappeared, he was gone.

"Where did you send him?" Virgil asked.

"The other side of the world." Patton said, staring at the spot where his brother had been. "He won't be bothering us again any time soon."

They all smiled, relieved that the battle was over. But that nice moment ended quickly as Roman's smile disappeared. He swayed a little bit where he stood.

"What's wrong?" Virgil asked. Roman still looked like he'd been through hell and back, which in a way, he had.

"Nothing, I just feel… a little…" Roman's eyes slid shut and he collapsed. His condition had finally caught up to him. Virgil ran into the hallway at the speed of light.

"Medic! We need a medic!" He called out.

A group of soldiers who were passing by trying to figure out what happened were immediately at attention, following Virgil into the throne room. He, Logan, and Patton watched as they carried Roman away, bringing him to the hospital wing.

"I really hope he's going to be okay…" Patton sighed. "He seemed to take some really tough hits."

"He's resilient." Logan nodded. "He's going to be okay."

"He has to be okay." Virgil stared wistfully at the door where the soldiers had left. Logan and Patton each put a supportive hand on his shoulders. They all knew that their adventure shouldn't have to end like this.

~~~

It was about the middle of the next day when Roman woke up. He awoke to sunlight shining through the windows. His arm was in a cast. He had bandages around his head and covering most of his torso. The room was perfectly clean. The walls and ceiling were white, and there were gray tiles on the floor. About a dozen identical beds lined the wall on each side. They had silver metal frames and white sheets. Roman identified this room as the hospital wing.

"Oh, you're up." One of the medics walked over to stand next to the bed Roman was in. "Would you like to know what we found in terms of injuries?"

"Yeah, sure." Roman nodded. He pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did.

"Well first off, as you may or may not have noticed at this point, you have two broken ribs and a broken arm. Some minor cuts, which were easily patched up. And finally, a minor concussion." The medic read from a clipboard that he was holding. "Nothing particularly deadly, but you will have to stay here for a few weeks. Is there anything you need?"

"I want to talk to my friends, please." Roman requested.

"Alright, what are their names?" The medic asked.

"Virgil, Patton, and Logan." Roman told him. The medic nodded and went to talk to his assistant, who then left to look for them.

It took about twenty minutes, and just as Roman was wondering if they were even still in the castle, the assistant came back, followed by Virgil, Patton, and Logan. They took a moment to hear about Roman's condition, and when they were done, they walked over to stand around his bed.

"Hey guys." Roman smiled. He used his right arm, the not-broken one, to reach out to Virgil and hold his hand. "How have you guys been since last night?"

"Better than you've been, probably." Logan said.

"Yeah, I think I speak for both of us when I say we're really sorry." Patton agreed.

"It's not a big deal." Roman shrugged. "You guys were mind controlled, you had no say in what you were doing."

"Thank you for accepting our apology." Logan said. "How long do you have to be here?"

"The medic said at least a few weeks." Roman told them.

"Well we'll make sure to visit you as much as possible. I'm just glad you're okay." Virgil said, squeezing Roman's hand lightly. "And also that all this craziness is finally over."

It wasn't intentional, but they all let out a sigh of relief at these words. Upon realizing, they all started to laugh. For the first time in a while, they were all able to genuinely laugh without having to worry about the future. It really was over. They'd finally won.

~6 Years Later~

Patton wandered around his greenhouse, tending to his plants. Lavender was walking around him in circles and following him whenever he would move. His life hadn't been all that interesting lately, and he was happy about that. He hadn't heard from his brother or parents in years. Logan had moved in with him a couple of months after the battle, and they had gotten married two years later.

Speaking of Logan, he had been out getting ingredients for Patton's potion making all day. Patton was running low on growth potions for his plants, but he didn't have enough ingredients to make more. Logan had offered to gather some for him.

A couple hours later, while Patton was reading a book with Lavender in the living room, Logan got home.

"Hi Lo, how was your day?" Patton smiled at him before going back to reading.

"Eventful." Logan put his bag down on the table. "I found many of the ingredients you said you needed, as well as something else."

"Yeah? And what else did you get?" Patton put down the book and started to let Lavender.

"Do you remember when you were talking about getting a second cat?" Logan asked, kneeling on the floor to look through his bag.

"Yeah, I do." Patton smiled, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

"So, while I'm not usually ones to take risks like bringing wild animals into my home…" Logan turned around, holding a small kitten. "This cat was very affectionate towards me, so I didn't think it could be a threat."

"Oh my goodness!" Patton said in a high pitched voice, reaching out to take the cat from his husband. Lavender didn't seem to have a problem with this new kitten, as she was a very friendly cat anyway. Patton let his hand hover over the kitten, and tiny snowflakes of blue magic rained over it. That was just the spell to make sure it wouldn't set off Patton's allergies. "I love her, thank you Logan!"

"You're very welcome." Logan smiled. He liked seeing Patton happy. "What should we name her?"

"Hm… I don't know." Patton studied the cat. It had dark brown fur with black stripes on its back, and green-ish eyes. "What do you think?"

"Maybe… Emerald?" Logan suggested. "Lavender is named after her eye color, so I think we should continue the pattern."

"Yeah, that's good." Patton smiled. "Did you get everything from the list?"

"I did, yes." Logan nodded.

"Well then I'm probably going to make some more potions." Patton gently put Emerald on the floor, then lifted Lavender off of his lap and put her there as well.

"Alright. I'll be here if you need me." Logan handed Patton his bag and waved to him as he went back to the greenhouse, the cats following him.

Logan smiled and sat in one of the chairs as the door closed. He was the happiest he'd been in forever. He had never expected to have a life this comfortable, but he did. He was married, had two cats, and was living in a beautiful house. He was basically living the dream, and he wouldn't change a thing.

~~~

Roman was alone in the portrait hall, where they would hang up paintings of rulers. Some of the paintings were of only one royal, but most of them were two. One of them was of his parents. His father and mother sitting on their thrones in the throne room. They weren't smiling, but when he was younger, his father had told him that it was because it took so long to paint a portrait. The other picture had been put on the wall two years ago. It was him and Virgil. They had been standing on a hill near the castle, the warm light of the sunset illuminating their faces. Roman's arms were wrapped around Virgil, whose hands were on Roman's shoulders. Their foreheads were resting against one another. Needless to say, that wasn't a very difficult pose for them to hold. Roman looked back towards the portrait of his parents.

"Well, I did it." Roman sighed, talking to his father even though he knew he wouldn't respond. "I fell in love. We got married two years ago, and I know you would've wanted to be there. It's been stressful, being the king. But at least I don't have to do it alone. I hope you're proud of me. I know you were always confident in my ability to rule, and I really hope that I'm proving you right."

Virgil entered the hall, standing next to Roman. He rested his head on his husband's shoulder.

"I've been looking around for you. Should've known you'd be here." He said.

"Yeah, I was just talking to myself a little bit." Roman told him.

"Well do you think you're ready to talk to someone else for a little while?" Virgil asked. "It's getting pretty dark out, I'm going to sleep soon."

"I know, I'll be there in a bit. I just need a little more time here." Roman said.

"Okay, that's fine. But just remember that you're still a human, and you need sleep." Virgil gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before starting to walk away. "I love you."

"Love you too." Roman waved to him as he left.

Virgil was the best. That was all Roman could think about. The last thing he would've expected when he first met Virgil eight years ago was that he would fall in love with him, but that was exactly what had happened. Roman's father would talk to him about his mother, and how wonderful she was. He would wish that he could have a relationship like theirs. Little did he know that he would have something even better. He looked at the portrait of his parents.

"I've been leading the army, too. We haven't really had to do anything yet, but you'll probably be pleased to know that I haven't been as paranoid as I was when you were alive." He laughed softly. "I've actually changed a lot since I last talked to you. I just wish that you could see me now and tell me that you're proud of me."

But, as he looked at his father's face in the painting, he realized something. He'd come so far, and done so much. And that was all his father had ever wanted for him. So for the first time in his life he knew for sure that, even though he wasn't here to say it himself, he made his father proud. And that was really all he needed to know.

Taglist: @musikasworld @icequeenoriginal @romanknite @idkwhyimhere0o0 @mellow-yellow-nutella @bubblycricket @ilovemygaydad @chelsvans @i-am-not-anon

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts deceit #ts logan #ts virgil #unsympathetic deceit #logicality #prinxiety #fanfic #fantasy #shattered crown au

33 notes · View notes

keeroo92 · 5 years

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Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch27 (V x Reader)

Chapter 27 - Agony and Ecstasy

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June 15th, 11:14 am

V’s emerald eyes are shadowed, downcast in defeat as he watches tiny fragments of his body float away in the wind, signifying his mortality in an impossible to ignore fashion. For a moment, you can’t comprehend what you’re seeing. The cracks in his skin were one thing, but this? You don’t have a medical term to describe what’s happening to the man you love. He sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging as he reverts to his previous cold acceptance of his fate.

“No, no no don’t you do that! Don’t you give up on me!” you cry out, only to see his lips twist into a sad, accepting smile. You pull him into your arms, stroking his back and his hair.

No, no, no this can’t be happening!

An icy chain wraps itself around your heart, squeezing it harshly in your rib cage as you feel it crack under the pressure. The unfairness of life has been a constant theme for you, yet this is the cruelest stroke of all. V trembles weakly in your arms as your tears stream down your cheeks, your hiccupping breath stuttering in your pained chest as you replay the moment endlessly. The image of his beautiful fingertips, tiny flakes of his body carried away in the heartless breeze as if he were so much dust.

Maybe I can fix it? Maybe I can heal him?

You pull his lips to yours for a desperate kiss, tasting the salt of your own tears as you attempt to convey how much you love this man through the motion of your lips alone.

Please, God, in whatever form you actually are, please save him! I’ll do anything, give anything you ask! I’ll pay any toll for his life!

The void doesn’t answer. It never will.

Your lips tremble against his, your jaw vibrating from the strength of your stifled sobs. His arms wrap around you in a delicate embrace, his tattooed hands stroking your spine warmly. His mouth on yours is a chorus of movement both achingly wonderful and maddeningly terrible because you know you may have very few chances to kiss him remaining.

Don’t think like that, Y/N! He’s going to be fine; he has to!

He sighs softly into your lips, his shaking hands coming up to stroke your face tenderly, as if he’s trying to memorize the sensation. You pull back at the thought to stare into his emerald eyes, seeing the pain and fear he’s feeling in the dark shadows within. The utter despair in his expressive eyes breaks you even further, the crack in your heart widening into a chasm. You pull him closer, laying your head in the crux of his shoulder and letting his familiar scent comfort you.

Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me…

“I’ll try,” he whispers hoarsely, and you realize you must have vocalized the thought without meaning to. You lean away to look at his hand again – there aren’t any more specks floating away but it obviously hadn’t recovered, small cracks running through his previously smooth skin amongst the dark lines of ink. You caress the crevasses, feeling for yourself how deep they run, and your heart splits in half.

“It doesn’t hurt,” V tells you in surprise. You hadn’t even considered that, too focused on the ramifications of the decay of his flesh to imagine how it might feel from his perspective.

What would it feel like to know your body is fading away?

I hope I never find out for myself.

“I think… I think I can continue,” V informs you hesitantly. “We should try to catch up to Dante.”

“But… V, you should try to rest first,” you begin.

“You know why I cannot, why I must keep going, no matter the state my body is in,” he replies with a morose shake of his head, his obsidian hair shining in the light.

Yes, I know… that doesn’t mean I agree!

“We are running out of time. The Qlipoth is almost fully grown; the fruit will appear within the next day unless we can stop it before then,” he continues, panting slightly as he struggles to stand, using his cane for what seems like the first time in days. You sigh in surrender, quickly pulling a protein bar from your bag and handing it to him with a teary smile.

“At least eat while we go, my poet. For me?” you beg him quietly. He smirks and unwraps the bar, taking a small bite as he steps forward.

_____________________________________________

June 15th, 11:27 am

Following Dante isn’t difficult. The man leaves a trail of broken scenery behind like a tidal wave, fresh scratches on the ground testifying to his battles. V can still smell ash in the air occasionally, the last remnants of the demons defeated by his brother.

Catching up to him, however, proves a challenge. Since his hand began to crumble, V has felt a massive shift in his energy. He is forced to use his cane with nearly every step, a sign of his growing weakness that makes his jaw clench in frustration as he limps forward doggedly, your sorrowful gaze tracking him worriedly.

I cannot stop now, not when so much is at stake.

His dreary thoughts are a plague he can’t escape, an itch that resists all attempts at scratching. His very bones are weary, so tired of this inexorable trudge toward death that despite your best efforts, he knows you cannot save him from.

I’m sorry, little fox. I’m so sorry for what this will do to you. I can’t help but wish you had walked away that day, never decided to join us on this doomed quest.

A pulse of agony rips through him, searing his every nerve in excruciating pain. He falls to his knees, cane clattering as he drops it to grip his head in his hands, lightning bolts arching through his neurons within his aching skull. Shards of glass rip his throat to shreds, knives sinking into his kidneys and stomach and twisting cruelly. He can feel the flames that burned his mother’s corpse into ash licking his skin, the heat burning him alive as he finally hits the pebble strewn ground. His very blood burns like acid in his veins as he curls inward, instinctively moving to protect his core from the invisible foe that is the source of his tormented screaming.

Make it stop! Make it stop, make it stop makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop….

He can no longer see the devastated cityscape surrounding you on all sides, can no longer smell the burning refuse or the rotting garbage. He can no longer hear the wind rushing by, or your voice desperately screaming his name in panic. His existence narrows to only pain, all of his senses completely overwhelmed in the horrors of its ferocity. He cannot even string together a coherent sentence in his mind, his mental processes shattered and mutilated beyond recognition.

Minutes that feel like centuries pass before he hears your voice from somewhere far too distant. He mentally latches on to it, clinging to the sound as if it were a parachute and he were falling from the sky. His pain fades incrementally, brutally slowly as he focuses on your voice and drags his consciousness back from where it had retreated from the agony.

Shame fills his incoherent mind as he regains awareness, finding himself cradled in your arms protectively. His convulsing body stills as your gentle hands stroke his hair, voice murmuring reassurances and comfort as he presses himself closer to you.

So weak, so powerless. I would not have made it this far alone.

Holy fuck, V! What the hell just happened?!

…did you feel it too?

An echo, not like you did… We all got a taste. You okay?

…I don’t know. I think I’m dying.

Shit.

“V? Can you hear me?” your anxious voice questions him. He licks his lips to speak, only to find the words catch in his aching throat, his vocal cords refusing to function in protest of their abuse. He nods instead.

“Can you speak?” you probe softly, and he shakes his head.

“Okay… I’m going to lie you flat and examine you,” you inform him, and he nods again as you scoot back from him, helping his limbs into a position of neutrality. By now his nerves have stopped their spasming and he can feel your touch, feel your careful hands slide up and down his body searching for injuries. After a moment, you lean back with a satisfied smile.

“Nothing external at least. Can you talk yet?”

“I… think so… hurts,” V gasps out through his overworked throat.

“Do you want to try standing or wait a little?” you ask him, brow furrowed slightly.

“Try,” he rasps out. You hand him his cane and crouch nearby, ready to catch him if he needs it. As much as he appreciates the support, he can’t help but also feel irritated by it and its necessity.

If only I was stronger…

He gets to his hands and knees easily enough, then braces his weight on the cane and pushes, bringing himself into a low crouch. Its uncomfortable, but bearable. He rises further, coming to a full standing position carefully. He takes a few steps cautiously, your arms still awaiting his fall, but he manages to not even stumble. You drop your hands with an apologetic smile, and he forces himself to smile gratefully back, despite his frustrations. At long last, the pair of you are able to resume your trek, albeit much slower for the time being.

Even with your slow speed, you manage to find Dante not too much farther ahead. There’s a blonde woman lying on the ground near him.

Trish?

“Dante!” V calls out, breaking into a full run and desperately trying to get the man’s attention.

There’s so much I must tell him…

But Dante turns away, mounting a motorcycle and barely bothering to send a few more words his way before dashing off. “Take care of Trish for me!”

“Dante, wait!” V exclaims uselessly, and he falls to the ground once more.

Dammit… always so weak.

In an act of desperation, he commands Griffon to accompany the legendary devil hunter, the blue bird flapping mightily and easily catching up to the speeding motorcycle.

V tries to stand on his own but only falls again. It isn’t until you come to help him that he’s able to rise fully. He angrily chooses a chunk of rubble to sit on, easily able to keep an eye on Trish as she sleeps. He pulls out his book of poetry to try and calm his anxious mind, try to stop thinking about his own death, as you sit beside him with a small smile, taking his unoccupied hand and stroking his fingers gently.

_____________________________________________

June 15th 11:40am

You sit beside V, his hand in yours as he reads quietly. Your mind is racing, wondering if you missed something with your theory. Wondering what more can possibly be done to save V, or if your theory is even right.

What if it’s wrong? What if he still dies?

You clench his hand in yours tightly, mentally swearing to not let that happen. No matter the cost, you will save V. You have to.

“When Trish wakes, I’m going to tell her everything. She may have better luck in telling Dante than I have thus far,” the lean poet comments suddenly. You hum in acknowledgment, glad that he’s becoming more and more willing to tell the truth of his origin. You hear a quiet sigh and look down to see Trish’s eyes have opened at last. She sits up carefully, holding the blanket covering her nude form in place as she looks around.

“Dante’s left,” she states, her voice unexpectedly soothing.

“Yes… and I don’t think he can win,” V comments back, turning the page in his book.

“What was that demon, V? Where did it come from? Urizen is not a demon. I know for a fact, because I'm from the Underworld,” the blonde woman adds. V doesn’t respond, instead turning the page again with a smirk.

“Oh my god... what are you then?” Trish asks V fearfully, and he closes his book at last to face her and address her directly. Her eyes shift to you curiously for an instant before V speaks and her attention is drawn back to the poet.

“It doesn't matter. I'm a shadow of my former self who lost everything. I will tell you... the story of my birth,” he murmurs softly. You squeeze his hand in a silent show of support as he once again tells his story, voice catching here and there as he describes the moments before his creation and the minutes afterward of sheer terror.

Trish takes it all in stride, her expression barely shifting throughout the telling. She’s an especially difficult person to read, a think outer shell of armor protecting her innermost thoughts from casual observation. You can respect that, even as you find it incessantly annoying.

“I've tried to hold together my crumbling flesh with whatever demonic power I have left, but... I'm approaching my limit. In separating and regaining my human soul, I've realized the gravity of the crime I've committed,” V concludes slowly, his emerald gaze glancing at you as he utters the next few words in a near whisper.

“I've realized how important everything was... everything I've thrown away in my pursuit for power.”

Finally, the poet is silent, his tale told and his secrets bared. Trish simply gazes at the pair of you, an unreadable expression still holding court over her features.

“Is that why you went to find Dante?” she asks.

“Yes. Foolish. I thought maybe he could change... maybe fix... maybe right my wrong. Tell me... was this fool before you right?”

Trish stands, the blanket covering her naked body somehow morphing into a black leather ensemble that makes you blush with all it reveals. She turns and starts walking past you and V, heading toward the Qlipoth.

“I'm not your mommy, V. You're a big boy. And you need to see this through. Dante's war,” she tells him in a scolding tone, sounding very much like a mother reprimanding her child. V grimaces in pain as he rises to his feet and steps forward to follow her.

Fuck that.

“V, either you sit back down on your own or I’ll force you. You’re going to rest for a few more minutes whether you like it or not,” you command the poet. He turns to face you, protests already forming on his lips, but you glare at him as threateningly as you can while you cross your arms until he swallows the words. He sighs but obediently sits back down beside you with a smirk.

“I suppose I’m not strong enough to stop you at the moment anyway,” he comments dryly. You take the chance to give him a bottle of water and another protein bar, watching him chew slowly beside you lost in thought. His lighter tattoos look strange to you, Griffon’s absence an empty void hanging in the air.

“Can you talk to Griffon right now?” you ask him curiously, wondering how strong the bond between them has become. He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment before clenching his jaw and shaking his head in frustration.

“I can tell he’s with Dante, see flashes of a house… but I can’t seem to communicate,” he murmurs between bites. Your mind continues its pondering, examining all you know about Urizen and V in an anxious search for answers.

I don’t know what else to do…

You lean against the poet beside you, careful not to force him to support too much weight in his weakened state. You feel his hand rise to wrap around your shoulders and pull you closer and you succumb to his desires and lay your head in his lap. He strokes your hair, your cheek, your lips. Memorizing your face.

Damnit, stop doing that!

You glare up at him, anger tinting your words. “V, we can’t give up yet. Please, keep fighting it, keep fighting for who you’ve become. Fight for our future together,” you urge him. He can barely meet your pleading eyes as he sighs heavily, his hand pausing its exploration at your jawline.

“It doesn’t seem to be working, little fox,” he reminds you softly, his eyes mournful as he meets yours.

You brush his hand away and sit up, reaching out to turn his face to yours once more as you sit beside him. Determination and stubbornness color your voice as you respond, your intense glare forcing him to accept what you say as truth.

“You don’t know that. There could be all sorts of reasons you’re still weakening. We’re closer to Urizen than we’ve been in weeks, you’re older now than you were last time you faced him, maybe Dante waking up did something… The point is, we can’t know if it’s failing. We won’t know until Urizen is dead. But as long as there’s even a shred of hope left, we have to keep trying. You have to keep trying. Because goddamnit V, I’ll go after Vergil myself if you merge. I’ll drag you back out kicking and screaming if I have to. I refuse to let you go,” you inform him passionately.

V smirks, looking down for a moment as he absorbs your monologue. After a beat, he carefully turns his body to face yours and pulls you against him, crushing your form against his. You can feel his racing heartbeat, feel the heat radiating off his skin as he embraces you.

“Thank you, little fox,” he whispers into your hair.

_____________________________________________

June 15th, 11:52 am

V limps quietly alongside you, your hand grasping his carefully. The Qlipoth ahead is taller than ever, reaching high above the clouds in its daunting height. The grey patchwork structure is impossible to ignore, a now constant backdrop to both his innermost thoughts and the landscape surrounding him. He reflects on your words as you slowly move forward, trying not to focus on how his failing body is preventing you from reaching the tree at a reasonable rate.

Your stubbornness and love, your passion and conviction… it had startled him. Even as the fear of death, of losing this chance at a future threatens to consume him entirely, your presence has helped keep him from tumbling over the abyss into hopelessness. Kept him from surrendering to his fate entirely.

There’s still doubt plaguing his mind, still anxiety tugging at his thoughts. Yet he now refuses to ignore the thin tendril of hope that’s grown miraculously within the garden of his terror. Grown only from your attention.

Perhaps a little from my friends as well, but mainly Y/N. I wouldn’t even consider them friends if not for her.

She has utterly changed the course of my life.

Sudden terror grips him as Griffon panics over something Dante is doing. He stops in his tracks, trying to focus on the hazy image he can barely see in his mind, too diluted by distance to have much meaning. You look at him quizzically, your steps halting to stand beside him.

“Griffon… Something’s happened with Dante,” he rumbles. Your eyes color with nervousness as he focuses as hard as he can on the image. Blurred shapes flash into a defined form for an instant before the haze obstructs them again, but he can see Dante standing before a portrait of the entire family, a blade embedded in his chest.

Not again…

He waits for a moment, then focuses his energy again on the image. He watches in awe as Dante transforms, his body absorbing the blade within and using its power to fuel his new appearance. A stronger version of his devil form, power radiating off his crimson flesh in waves of heat.

The image dissolves as Griffon’s panic vanishes, and V can’t help the wry grin from crossing his face.

Only Dante…

“What happened, V?” your shaky voice asks. He smirks at you as he answers.

“Dante has absorbed the Sparda. The reckless fool stabbed himself. He has grown stronger, perhaps strong enough to win,” he ruefully states. He chuckles, bitterly amused at his brother’s ability to gather strength and how it mirrors his own decline. Always opposites, the two of them.

“Really? So… you might not even need to fight Urizen?” you probe hopefully. He shakes his head, refusing to miss the final fight.

“I must be there, must witness Urizen’s destruction myself no matter who strikes the blow,” he answers determinedly.

“Would it be dangerous to do it? To kill Urizen?” you thoughtfully ask him. He pauses, not having fully considered it.

I suppose it could be dangerous. I have no idea what will happen to his body.

“It may be. I cannot even begin to guess what will become of his remains. He may have even set a trap for anyone who dares to strike him,” V pronounces with a slight frown. He watches your face carefully, suspicion growing in his mind as your features shift from curiosity to resolve.

“Then I should be the one to do it,” you state boldly, and his heart skips a beat.

No, no no little fox! You can’t be serious!

As if you had read his racing thoughts, you smile at him tenderly and elaborate.

“If it is dangerous, how much more hope and fear would fill you if I was the one taking the risk? If I was the one who could get hurt?”

He grimaces, already knowing the truth of your words yet refusing to accept the risks. You had to be safe, you had to survive. Even if he was doomed, he absolutely would not under any circumstances drag you down with him. Unthinkable.

“Irrelevant. It will not be you, I won’t allow it,” he forcefully pronounces. You only smile wider, reaching out to stroke his cheek tenderly.

“V… the whole idea about keeping you alive functions on you experiencing as much emotion as possible. As arrogant as it feels to say it, I’m the one you care about the most. Seeing me strike down Urizen… watching me walk up to him… you can’t deny how it would make you feel. It might be the final key, the last shred of humanity that saves you,” you explain carefully.

I know she’s right, but I cannot allow this!

“The risk is too great. Let Nero do it, or Dante,” he miserably begs you.

You shake your head, your hair catching the light beautifully.

“You care about Nero, true, but he’s only a friend. And you hate Dante, you’d be happy to see him fall. It has to be me,” you declare. “V, at this point, how could you even stop me? This is my decision to make, so you can either help me save you or fight me and lose anyway.”

Damn. She’s right, I couldn’t stop her even if I tried. I’m too weak, always too weak.

He presses his forehead to yours, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. It goes against every fiber of his being, every single one of his protective instincts screaming in his mind to not even consider letting you do this.

But he has no choice.

He cannot fight you.

“I don’t like it, not one bit. But you have a point. Just… promise me you’ll be careful?” he begs you, surrendering to your will at last. You nod, your lovely eyes lighting up happily at his agreement.

“I promise. Thank you, my poet,” you murmur gratefully, and then you close the gap to kiss him lovingly. His tongue darts out to taste you, craving your unique flavor. A surge of lust overtakes him as you open to his attentions, his arms pulling you against him forcefully as his blood thunders in his ears. He wants you, all of you. He wants to consume you and never let you go. You are his, now and always, and he desperately craves the chance to claim you once again.

V doesn’t care that you’re in the middle of a street. Doesn’t care that there’s chunks of stonework and broken buildings surrounding you. Doesn’t care that the only remotely clean or flat surface is a small portion of sidewalk. He tugs you toward it, easily stripping off his vest as he goes. Your mouth pops open in surprise but you don’t fight him as he carefully lowers you onto the pavement, using his vest as a pillow so your head doesn’t lie on the cold ground.

“Really, V? Here?” you whisper. He grins ferally, his hands already working at your top as he growls his response.

“Yes.”

You blush deeply, eyes darting around the area to check for other witnesses to your carnal pleasures. You find not a single soul, as he knew you would, and seem to settle as he pulls your shirt over your head.

“You are mine, little fox,” he murmurs lustily, and his mouth descends to decorate your bare chest with kisses and bites. You wrap your arms around him, but he tuts. He pulls back and looks you in the eyes.

“If you want me to stop, say ‘juniper’, yes?” he instructs you and another powerful bolt of heat rips through him as he sees your swollen lips stretch into a hungry smile, your glazed eyes narrowing as you nod forcefully. He descends upon your form once more, his arms moving to pin yours at your sides so you’re helpless to his actions. He needs to feel powerful, feel in control even though he would never force you.

He grins darkly as your hands, pinned to your sides, drift to your waist to open your belt. You release him as well, clumsily baring you both to the chilly air. A wicked smile twists his lips as he has a sudden idea, and he rises, pulling his pants up enough so they don’t trip him as he pulls you up. He plants his lips on yours again instantly, his tongue ravaging your mouth passionately as he backs you against a small sedan nearby. You gasp as the back of your legs hit the metal, another exhalation escaping you as he grips your hips and flips you face down.

He drops his pants again, working himself out of his briefs as you extend your arms out on the hood of the brown car, the dust already showing where your body has touched it. The sight pleases him immensely.

“Good girl, always so obedient for me,” he rumbles, his long fingers parting your legs easily as you whimper in desire. He tears your panties away forcefully, a small ripping sound accompanying the motion as he flings them away dismissively.

“Yes, I’m a good girl for you V. Show me how good I’ve been,” you whine as he drags a single digit through your slick folds.

“Hmm. You’ve also been very naughty, my little fox. I ought to punish your misbehaving,” he growls in response, using the tone he knows you can’t resist. You moan, the sound starting a fire in his belly and making him bare his teeth in a wolfish smile.

He raises a hand and smacks your bare ass, leaving a delightful red mark behind in his wake as you squeal. He listens carefully for a moment, in case you need him to stop, but only hears your ragged breathing. He smacks your ass again, another red mark joining the first as you groan.

“Please, V... please… I need you,” you beg, and a heady rush of power fills him.

“Not yet, love. I’m not done punishing you yet,” he groans back with a smirk. He takes a moment to enjoy the view, your arms outstretched and trying to find purchase against the smooth metal of the brown vehicle beneath you, your legs parted and shaking slightly in your excitement. Two red marks on your round ass where he’s marked you as his. He adds one more mark with a final smack, making you gasp amidst your staccato breaths.

“Now, for your reward,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear. He delights in the way you shift your hips, angling yourself for his ease.

Not yet…

He strokes himself a few times, satiating his own needs just enough to focus his mind as he slides a finger inside you. A delicious moan reaches his ears from your parted lips and he curls his digit just the way he knows you like it. The way you breathe his name jolts him, the low fire in his belly becoming a raging inferno as he feels your wetness. He withdraws his finger and steps forward at long last, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising grip.

“Such a good little fox…” he rumbles and slowly presses his hips forward. His eyes flutter closed as his head breaches you, the tight tunnel welcoming him home like a lost pet. His own moan joins in with yours as you clench around him, the slick fluids allowing him to inch his way further inside at a pace that would make a snail impatient.

His hips finally become flush with your ass as he sheathes himself fully. One of his hands moves from your quaking hip to fist in your hair, pulling your head up so he can see the blissful expression on your face. He holds your head there as he pulls away, your brows furrowing as you bite your lower lip. He bucks forward again, reveling in the sharp gasp that escapes your lips as you are suddenly filled again.

He releases your head, laying his hand on your spine and holding you against the cold metal as he thrusts voraciously, his panting breath echoing your own. You do your best to angle your hips to meet his, clearly desperate for friction on your tiny bundle of nerves.

“You’re being so good, you deserve a reward,” he gasps out and the hand still on your hip descends, finding its way between your thighs and stroking your clit the way he knows you like. Your cries elevate his feeling of dominance even further, still not uttering the word he’d told you before he began. He feels you approaching your peak, your body sending him all the signals he needs. He stills his fingers and his hips, leaving you panting and wriggling in frustration beneath him.

“Did I say you could come yet, love?” he rumbles, leaning closer to your ear to ensure you can hear him.

Your face says it all – he has total control over you as you willingly surrender to his will and still your hips.

“Good girl,” he growls, standing tall once more and resuming his ferocious pounding. The dust under your form mixes with your sweat, a watery mess coating your front as he molds you to his desires. He can’t help the long moan that sounds from him as you find your rhythm together, the wet slapping of flesh marking your union audibly.

He’s close now, he can feel it.

I want to feel her come with me.

He resumes his little touches, bringing you just to the edge to join him. With a final shout, he rubs the spot that he knows will send you over, your clenching walls and signature orgasmic moan rewarding his intimate knowledge of your body as his stuttering hips clench, his own pleasure pulsing between his legs within you. His skin prickles, his vision flashing with color as the high of release fills his consciousness.

His blood pounds in his veins as he comes to a stop, spent. The two of you both pant heavily as you catch your breath, the exertion such a wonderful strain on your lungs. His hands leave your body as he stands and pulls away with a slight squelch, your mixed fluids spilling out of you as he joins you on the hood, laying down and meeting your half-lidded gaze.

A long moment passes of the two of you simply staring at each other, reveling in ecstasy.

“I love you,” V finally murmurs, and you smile that smile he so adores, lips twisting to perfectly display your teeth in an expression of utter joy.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, and his own joyful smile matches yours.

#dmc5 v #dmc5 #dmc #fanfic #v x reader #v x you #reader insert #op #SBHS #lemon #spicy #vitale

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silver-the-cat · 6 years

Text

Jack in Wonderland - Part 9 of Still going strong!

((Yay! Another part! I’m pretty sure I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I do have a friend (not on Tumblr) with whom I do show the parts to before I post it. Well, I showed this part to her and her feedback has been great so far. So shoutout to her even tho she isn’t on this website! I just wanted to mention this because I got the right kind of feedback I was looking for from here.

Anywho! Enough with my rambles. Hope you all enjoy!))

“I noticed you dropped this and….well, I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

Words had an incredible effect. It was so strange that after hearing a certain string of words together, you could believe something for so long. And that you could be surprised when someone says something that suddenly contradicts what you’ve been led to believe.

“I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

Jackson had been pacing ever since he had gotten back to the castle, pondering that one sentence the whole trip back. It was a genuine feeling. That man only wanted to help, and Jackson could certainly understand that in his words.

Truth was, he wasn’t exactly sure how he should’ve felt.

The King of Red Hearts wasn’t exactly the nicest and Bing was...well, extremely distant to put it bluntly. The people in the kingdom didn’t even talk much, instead going about their business as if in a daze. Sure there was the Mad Trickster, but Jackson always got the impression he never liked him much. So you could only imagine how it felt to suddenly have some complete stranger be so kind after nearly everyone he knew was rather cold.

“White Rabbit.” Jackson nearly jumped a few feet into the air, spinning around to see a guard behind him.

“G-Golly, you scared me for a s-second there, lad!” Jackson sighed, making a quick recovery. “E...Er….did you n-need something?”

“His majesty has requested your presence. He wants you in the throne and to be prepared to write down a message.” The guard said flatly. “And he wants you there in….about 15 minutes time.” It was times like this Jackson really wished the Mad Trickster didn’t destroy his watch.

“Of course, I’ll be down there post-haste!” He replied, trying his hardest at a chipper smile. The guard merely nodded and walked away, leaving the messenger alone once again. He took a quick minute to compose himself, before he began rushing off towards the throne room (of course, after briefly considering whether or not if it would be faster to transform into a rabbit first).

Everything would be fine, he told himself, it was just a message, how bad could it possibly even be?

“Send a m̨e̕s̡s̶a͝gé to to ̧a̸ll ̛of th̕e ͡kingdom̴. Every village and every ho͘m̸e̵.”

“Y-Yes. O-Of course sire.”

“Tell them th̸at a c͜r̵i̡m̵͝įǹ̵͡a͢ļ has been caught. And his e͞x͢e͢͠c̨͝ut̨̕i̛o͘n will be in few̢ ͞hour̶s͏ in͏ t̕he̸ capital’s main square.”

“‘execution…..main square….’....u-understood, sire. D-Do you want me to m-mention the criminal b-by name or by c-crime?”

“Hm̸m...go with bo̢t͏h̵.”

“O-Of course. Er….w-what is the criminal’s name and crime?”

“You’ll know hi̴m ẁe̶l̸l͢ ͏en͝o҉ug͘h. Put the name down as J̡͜a͜c̢͜k͞ and his crime as--”

“J-Jumping Jehoshaphat! I-Is he the same Jack from before?”

“W̢͢͞͝H̴́O̡̨͜ ́͜D̢A̸̛͏̕R̕ĘD̷͟͡ ̷̢̀͞͠G̀҉̀͟I͠҉V̷́͜͠E͘̕͟͟͢ ̸̶͞Y͏̵O̴U҉͏̸̧҉ ̷̵̧P̴͞͞Ę͏̶͜͞R͏̡M҉͟I͟͟͜S̵̛̕͢S̸̢̀͟͞Į̶̢̨͟Ǫ͏Ņ̵҉͟ ̧̛͢͡T̴̡͡͏͞O͡͠ ̛͘͝I̛͘҉̕͜N̨̛͟͢T͝͠҉́Ę̵̕͏̶Ŕ̢͝U̴̢͘P̷̢͜T̶̸͏ ҉̵̨́́M͏̴̛̀E̴͡͠?̨́͡!̶̵͟͞” Jackson yelped, nearly dropping his notepad as the King slammed his hands on his throne and stood. Everyone in the kingdom knew that angering Anti usually meant a death sentence, most often on the spot beheadment.

“T-Terribly sorry--I-I didn’t mean to I just--T-The name sounded so familiar and--I never meant to, I swear, your Highness!” Jackson stuttered, just a hair away from dropping onto his knees and begging for mercy. Anti merely looked down upon him, almost savoring his absolute terror before he sat back down.

“Tch. I’ll allow you to l͝i͟v̶̷͢e͝ ͘f̵͢o͘r̴ ̴́ǹ͞o̷w. You’re my fastest p̨͝up̶͡p͢͟e̶t̡͟͝ á̛͡n̶ỳ̨w҉͡a̷y̸͢s̸͡, ҉s͟o ͢ìt͝͡'̴̢̧d̵ be a shame if you….” He grinned, trailing off although Jackson very much understood the implications behind it. “But to answer your ŕ͢͜u̢͘͝d̷e̛̛͡ ̨q͜u̕ęs̶t҉҉i̴̶o̡̢n̨. Yes. It is the same J͜a̵͏̢c̛͘k I had you lure here. Excellent observation. Í ̴͟s̡̢̀u҉p̵͠po͢se ̸̧y͡o͝͡u̵ ̨͘͞a͞r͞e͠n't̨̕ ̵à͞ ̵w̷̨͜or͠t̕͢h͟͡l͟e̕s͟ś ͞҉me̸͏ş̷s̨͝e̵̡̛n͟͞g͘͞e̢̢͢r̨ ͞af̸͘t͏̧e̕r͢҉ ̧̡al̛ļ̶́.”

“Er….thank you, sire….” Jackson said, rubbing the back of his head. “B-But….if I may ask….w-why is he being executed? E-Especially after all that effort of bringing him here?”

“I don’t c̀͏a̢̡r͏e̸̛ if he’s alive or d̀҉̀e͞a̛ḑ̨ at this rate. A̴̡͞ p͜҉u҉̀p̧͞p̨͜è̕t̴͡ c̴ļ͟o͘͟s͡e͜ ̶̢̡t̴̛ơ͠҉ that prick king would’ve been ņ͡i̸̢ç̴e͝, but my plan can still w̢҉o̷͏ŕ̛ḱ ̛i̡f̶́́ ̵̵h͘͝é͜'̵̀s̢ ́͜͝ḑ͏e̵͝ad͜.” Anti said, rather casually as well. He even began toying with the strange hand of cards he always seemed to have, running a finger along the top of each of them. “W͜h̨et̴͢he̡͘͟r̵̡ ͢o̵̵͜r̛ ͏͠n̸o̢t͏͏̵ ҉͟h̸́͠ę'̧̛s̵̨͟ ͏̢d́̕͞ę͝a̧͝d,̨̕ ҉͘I҉̡ s̷t͏̧í͜l̴̢l͏ ͝w̵̴iǹ̡.̀͘ Doesn’t matter t̵̀o̴͡ m̧͞e ̢̨͘a̵̢t̨͏ ͜͝a̡͡l͏͜l.”

“I…..see…” Was all Jackson had to say in response. There was quite a bit if silence between them, before Anti gave a huff, glaring up at his messenger.

“Well? I̛͢ ́̀g̶͞͞a҉͟ve͜͡ y҉o͏u̴ t͏̸͢h͠͏e͞ ͘͏d͢a͟m̨̕m͏̡ ̧m͘e͠s̢̀s̴̷a̕͟g̀͢e̢͠,̷̴ ͜w͟h̶͢y haven’t you left yet?!” He growled, nearly making Jackson drop his notepad. “G͘̕e̵̡͜͠͏t̴ ̵̨͝͠͡o̵̢ừ̸҉t̢̕҉ ̷̡́͢o̷̧͝͡͏f̧̛̀͢͏ ̶̢̀͟m͝ý҉̶̛͝ ̷̕s̵̕͏i̢͟͞ģ̷h̢̡͡͠t̴͝!̷” In a small, sudden puff of smoke, the messenger transformed himself into a rabbit and, after catching his notepad in his mouth, quickly raced out the doors.

Once he was absolutely sure he was out of sight, however, he ducked behind one of the castle’s corners and transformed back into a human. Whilst hidden, he took just a few moments to lean against the wall and think. Think about everything he had just been told.

An execution today. That wasn’t unusual for Anti, but he never made a big show out of it ever. Normally, he even executed people on the spot. Then what made this one so special? Was it the fact that he would be executing Jack? That again made him wonder why bother sending Jackson out to lure Jack to the castle if all that was going to happen was Anti was simply going to kill him.

“I wanted to make sure you got this back.”

Jackson felt his hands curl up into fists. Despite the fact that since the very beginning, Jackson had been working to lead Jack straight to his doom, especially when (or at least, Jackson thought) it seemed obvious that he was just leading him off of the path. Despite all of that, Jack had never once given up on that one quest to give back the pin. It felt like it had been the first in a very long time that someone had been that genuinely kind to him (he very much knew there had been other times, but the memory of it had long since vanished). And now, he could very well just blame himself for what had happened. Because of him, Jack could very well lose his life in a few hours.

Jackson took a deep breath, before he checked the area around him. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to even consider this, let alone even try it. But at this rate, Jackson seriously doubted he’d be able to live with himself.

“Gee….I am so going to regret this later on, aren’t I?” He muttered, before transforming into a rabbit once more. He only had a few hours before the execution. If he played every single one of his cards right, he might just be able to pull this crazy thing off. Of course, given he didn’t get caught during it.

He absolutely had to repay the favor, no matter the cost

Jack felt like punching the wall. He’d been angrily pacing ever since the guards threw him in the cell and his back finally stopped aching. He was mostly angry with himself, given the fact that it had taken him far too long to realize it was the glitchy demon himself. How on earth could he have not remembered Anti? Given what role Anti had played in his own life so far (which was all Jack could remember at the current moment), it should’ve been downright impossible.

And then there was just the current situation he found himself in as well. Awaiting his own death in a dark, wet dungeon. How the hell was he even supposed to get home now? Was he just supposed to die now?

“God, how and why did I somehow get into this situation?” He asked himself, stopping in front of one of the walls and somehow resisting the urge to slam his forehead on it. “Maybe if I just bash my head against this wall for long enough, this whole damn thing will just turn out to be a dream and I’ll be able to escape from this hellhole….”

“Jeepers, doesn’t sound like the best way out of here that I’ve heard.” A voice, coming from the other side of the room, suddenly said, nearly scaring Jack out of his skin. There was a tiny, 3 or 4 inch high window at the top of the wall, near the ceiling. There were bars covering it, but they weren’t exactly too far apart. The best part as well was that it led directly outside, somewhere near a huge part of the rose gardens.

And Jackson was peering right through the bars, head tilted ever so slightly.

“L-Listen! Before you go saying anything or asking any kind of questions, just be quiet for a few moments!” He quickly said, as Jack opened his mouth as if to say something. “I know that I….I technically brought you here. I didn’t ask you to follow me or nothing, after all. B-But! I want to make things right again! So….I’m...I’m breaking you out!”

“You’re….breaking me out?” Jack asked, rather confused. “Hang on, you said you were some kind of royal messenger back at the gate, right? Why on earth would you even think about helping me out of here?”

“Because….Golly, I really should’ve known better.” Jackson said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was truly just following orders, honest. Only just now got the news that his highness threw you into prison and I felt even worse about this whole deal. So, I decided I should try and help! I wanna repay the kind act you did for me, I suppose!” The White Rabbit suddenly glanced around him, as if he had heard something. “A-Alright….here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll transform into a rabbit and climb into your cell. Then I’ll wiggle my way through those bars there and find the keys. I unlock the door, we get out of the castle, and preferably both our stories end on a jolly note!”

“Since it’s either this or certain death, I’ll gladly take this.” Jack huffed, before nodding and giving what he hoped was an encouraging grin. “Alright, guess I’m trusting you with this, Jackson. Good luck and try not to get hurt out there, okay?” Jackson’s whole face immediately lit up as he disappeared in a puff of smoke, replaced by the same snow-white rabbit Jack had seen earlier.

It was relatively easy for Jackson to slip right through the window’s bars, although it did take a few moments for him to wiggle through the cell’s bars. However, as soon as he made it through, he hopped off as quickly as he could, turning a nearby corner and disappearing from view. Another few minutes passed by, where Jack even stood at the bars peering out just to see if he could get a glimpse of the rabbit. There was a very faint clatter and poof sort of sound before Jackson ran around the corner once more, in his human form this time.

From there it was as simple as Jackson unlocking the door and the two quietly running to the exit to the dungeons. Jackson instantly took the lead from there, using his own memory of the castle to figure out where exactly they needed to go. His enhanced hearing (which was almost definitely thanks to his rabbit ears) also helped out a lot as well, giving them ample time to duck into some hiding spot before a guard rounded the corner.

“Er….Jackson? Would ya mind me asking something?” Jack eventually asked as a guard finally left, leaving the two to slowly emerge out from behind a suit of armor.

“Go ahead lad!” The messenger said. “And just call me Jameson, no need to be formal!”

“Right….right….” Jack said as they began moving out once more. “Er…..Would you know what exactly Anti wants with me? And, other than killing someone, why he basically turned me into a criminal?” Jameson was quiet for a few minutes, as if he was pondering the question. It was only after another close call with a guard did he finally answer.

“Well, he’s after power truly.” He replied. “He wants to bring the Red Hearts and White Hearts together, and I suppose the only way he could do that would be to kill King Schneeplestein. Not too sure where you would fit into this, but I do remember him getting in a pickle due to you being found by Schneeplestein. Saying something about how he dragged you here all for nothing.” Part of Jack shouldn’t have been surprised, it truly was Anti they were dealing with here. What he couldn't wrap his head around was why him specifically? Why couldn’t Anti simply send someone like Jameson out to do it, given that Jameson would’ve done it out of loyalty. It didn’t exactly make sense to choose Jack of all people.

“Look alive, son! We’re nearly there!” Jameson suddenly said, even giving Jack a small nudge to stir him out of thought. “We’ve just got the throne left. Then it’s just a hop, skip, and a jump through the gardens! We’ll be out of here in no time at this rate!”

“Shouldn’t we be at least careful? There should be tons of guards swarming around the throne room, right?” Jack asked, only to no avail as Jameson ran ahead and peered around a corner. As soon as Jack even caught up, he had already given the go ahead signal and raced off. Jack eventually found him right by a giant red door, his ears twitched and he was even bouncing rather nervously from one foot to the other.

Once Jameson finally gave him to go ahead yet again, he pushed the huge door open as quietly as he could.

Thankfully, there was no one in the giant hall, much to their own relief. However, the observation made Jack feel just a bit uneasy. Shouldn’t Anti have been in the room? There really shouldn’t be anywhere else for him to go.

Jameson, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice. He instead grabbed Jack’s arm and began rushing towards the exit, nearly dragging Jack off his feet (which would’ve made his grand total to two times in one day, a new personal record if it had happened). However, halfway down, Jack wrenched his arm free and stopped dead, glancing behind them.

“Lad? Something wrong?” Jameson asked, skidding to a halt as well and looking back to him with a rather confused expression. “C’mon, we’re not far, can’t dawdle too long either or we’ll get caught. Time is very, very precious right now.”

“I know. I know. It’s just….” Jack said, eyes scanning every single part of the room. “I seriously can’t be the only one who feels like something around here seems really….off, right?” Jameson raised an eyebrow, before he too took a glance around. Almost instantly, he seemed to freeze up in what could loosely be described as pure and utter terror.

“J-J-J-Jack….w-w-we need t-to run….” He stammered, slowly backing away. Jack turned to ask what was wrong, when he felt it as well. A cold, creeping feeling of horror crawling up the back of his neck, which quickly spread all throughout his body.

“Very much agreed, let’s go now!” Jack nodded, backing away before he broke into a sprint. Jameson did the same, reaching the door far faster than Jack. However, when he pulled on the handle, it wouldn’t budge an inch. They were completely locked in.

“Ţ̸̨h͘o҉u̸͜͝g̵̨͟h̷t̷́ ̀͡yo͡u͢͜ ͢c̛͢ǫ́͜u̕l̶҉́d̵͢ ͝g̷̀et͠ ̕҉́a̧̛wą̵͝y ̶n̷͡ò͘ẁ̷, ͏͞d͡i͟ḑ̷ yǫ͞u̶͘?͏̢̡” A cold voice said behind them. Anti stood where Jack was not too long ago, arms crossed with the silver blade of what looked like a dagger or a knife clutched in one hand. And he looked far from pleased. “Y̵o҉u̷͜ ͜a͢l̸wa͘y̷͡ş ͡wé̀͝r̡͏e̵͟ ̨̧̕s̸u̡͞ch̨ a͢ǹ̡͡ ̛éa̛s̢͠͡y̸ ơn̸͝͠e̶͢ ̧to͘͘͢ ͞͝r̷̢ȩ҉͏a̵͞d̢҉,̀ r͏ąb͢b̢͏̧i͜͢t̵. ̕͟͢Aǹd ͞yò̡u̢͡͞'̸͏v̵e p̷ŗ͠o̕̕v́͟e͞n̨͡ ҉͜f̴͡͞ar̶͡ ̵̴͝m̕ơ͡r͏͘é̵ ̛͡u҉̨͝se̡f͘u͏͢l͠͞͞ ̵̢t̢͜han̢ ҉̶I ̧͡ẁou̕l̨̛͝d̴'̷̛͢v͜e̶̸ ͟͡͡e̡͝x̸͡p̴̵͡e̛͠c̵̴͝ţ̸e̢͟d.͢”

“B-But how?! I-I-I made sure nobody was--A-And I j-just--” Jameson was very clearly panicking, his back pressed so far up against the door it was incredible he didn’t just press himself flat. “S-Sire I-I was--I-I swear I wasn’t--!”

“S͡҉h̸̡͜͠͞ư͠͠t̀͏̛́͏ ̵͞͠͞i̡͝͞t̕҉͟͜.” Jameson gave a final squeak before falling completely silent, eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. “A͡͏̵ ̨͝p͠úp͞pet͞ ̷̢͠n͏͏è͟ę͘͢d̷͟s҉҉͢ ͘͡t͏o͟͏ ́͠͠l͝͏̷ȩà͡r̵͟n͜ ̛͡wh̕͠e̷n̸̛ t́̕ǫ̛ ̵̸b̷̷́e҉ ̢q҉͜u͡i̢̨e͜t̶. ̷̨̛A͟n̡ḑ̧ ̶̢͜ǫ̷͟b̨͠ey̶̡ ҉̸̸o̶̢͡r҉́d̸̕e͘r̵̀s̵.̢͡ ͢B͠͞u͢t̢͟͟ ̀Í͡ ̡͟c͞͡a͟͠n͏͜ ̶́d͠ea̧̛͠l͘ ̷̕w͢ìt̨̡h͟ ̢̀͘t҉͘h͟a̵t̨͏͢ só̷o҉̡͝ǹ̛͜ ̢͞e͘͞n͞o҉u̶͟ǵ͞h̶͠.̡̡͜ ̶O͝n͘͘t́o̸̢ ̢̀͟t̵h͘͏e̢͟ ͏̵c͘uŕ͞r̀e̴̷̕ń̴t́͢͞ m̧àtte͘r̡͟ a͜t ̵ḩ̵̕à͠n̢d̴͘.̸͢͟” The glitch’s gaze turned to Jack, with a rather sickening grin. “I̴͞ w҉̶a̷̧͘s̢ ̸̡r̷̵̀ę͘a̵͞l̵̀l̵҉ý ̢̛h̢̀͜óp̨͠i̷n̶̛͟g͞ ̧͟wé̛͝ ͟͡͝w̷ơ̷u̧̕͜l̷d̕ ̧͜m̨a͟k͡e͏̸ à͟͠ ҉l̴̨įt̕͘t͠l͢͡e sho̢̡w̴͜ ou͜҉͢t of̢ ̷̡͟th̛̛į̸̷ś͞.͟ ̷̛A͢ ̶͠͞c̷e͏ļ̶҉è̵b̵̸r̸ą͞t͢͝҉i̷o̷̢͢n͘͟ ̴͜o͏̧̛f̢͘ ̶͡m̢͝y̢̛ ùp͞ć́o̷͞m̷͜͟ing̷̛͜ ͟͞v̷ic͞t͜҉o͞r̴y͏̡.̢҉̸ Y̶͘ou̕r̶̨ ҉d̡͞͡ea̴͞t͏҉h͟͟ w҉oul̷̛d̡'̡v̀e͟͜ ͜͡͠hel̶p̨͟e͢d͠ ͞ţ̨he ͘͢k͘͜i͠ņ̵̕g̸̢͞d͘o͡҉̡ḿ͜, ̨y͏o҉̶͞u k̨͏̵n͘͜ow̨.͝͡ ̛W͟h̛̀i͢l̛͘ȩ̸ ̢Hȩńri̛k ̸̀a̸͘͡ńd̢͢͞ ͘͜͡t̡͘͏h̴̢̧e̷̡͞ ̨҉̛rę̸́ş͜t̷͟͝ ̷̴̴ó͟͝f̢́͡ ̧̨W͠h͏it̕e̢҉ ҉H̡ę͘a̧rts̶ ͘d̶ev͢a͟śa͏̢t̴èḑ ͜and̶ ͞i̸̧n͠ ̸͏mou̧r̸̶n̸͟in͜g̶̷,͞ ̕͡I̢͘'̶d ́͠b̷͢͞ę̵̷ ͟͝a͝bl͏è̵̡ ͢҉t̨o҉ ̛ta̕͢͡k̶҉̡e͢͠ ͢c̡͏o͝n̕͝t̷ró̶͟l̕!͝ F͝͠in̕͞a̢ĺ͜͡ly!͢”

“I don’t exactly think things would improve much for anyone if you took control.” Jack nearly spat back. “If me dying means that you just get more power and more chances to hurt even more people, then I absolutely refuse to die!” Anti only grinned wider, lower his arms and revealing that he was indeed holding onto a silver kitchen knife.

“Thà̕͠t'͠s҉̛ ̕a̵̢͝d̸̛o͘͢͞rá̧͢b̶̀l̷e̵̴! ̴͡Ỳ̛ou a̛͟͠c̴̕t̸̸͡u͏͘a͢l̡l̕y̡ ͘͜t̴h͢i̢͟n̵̢͘k̀ ͜͜͞y͢ou̡͘̕ ̴͘h̨͝͡a͟v̸̧e҉̶ ̵̕a ͠͝c̷͠hoi̶c̕͜e ̵̵he͠r̷̶̢e̷͡͏?͝” He laughed, taking a single step back. “T̡͢҉̢h́͜i͏̨͝s̵̕ ̶̛i̢͘͢͡͏ş̨ ̢̧̛̀̀Ḿ̴̴͢Ý̕͟͟ ̕͝w͘͝͠o̴͜͡r̛҉͠l̵̢͢͡d̀͘͏͠!̷̡͢͜ ͢҉̷A̸͞͏̀l͟͝͞͞l͝͠ ̧t̢̕ḩ̛͝e̡̛̛s͘͝͞è̵͟͠ ̡̨̀҉̶p̧͘é̡̢͟o̶̢p̶̸̴̛͠l͜͟e̸̛͟.̶.́.̀͜҉.̨͏t͜h̶̢͝e̵̴͝s̸̢͜͝é͏ ̶̴͟͢c̴̨̢̛̀r̵͜ę̴̵̀͘ą̛͝͠ţ͢͜͡u̷̡̢͟r͏̸̷̵e͢s̴.͟͜҉͏̷.̶̛̀͝.̨͞.̵̴̧̀͟á̵͜͞r̴̛e̷͞ ̡͟͡M̧͡Í͜͜N̡E͘͢͠҉!͟҉͡ ̶̕ĄN̡̛̛D҉̀ ̵̨Y̷̧͢͜҉Ơ̴̢U̷̕͝͝҉ ̕͠͝͏C̵͏̛À͜N̶͜'̸̧҉T͏̛͝͡ ҉̡̀͜C̕͜͝͞͝Ḩ̶͠Ą̴͝N̶̕G̵̢͢͜È̡͟ ́͢T̡̨H̕͝ĄT̶̡͜͠!̢͜”

Without warning, Anti lunged forwards at an inhuman speed, just barely giving Jack enough time to duck in order to avoid his slash. Moving as quickly as he possibly could, he darted behind one of the pillars as Anti swung again, hitting the pillar with an almighty thwack. For a few moments, Jack simply ran from pillar to pillar, just barely avoiding Anti’s lightning fast slashes. It didn’t help that he knew this tactic wouldn’t last forever, or that it really shouldn’t have kept him safe for this long. Either Anti really was falling for it, which was highly unlikely.

Or Anti was really just toying with him, gaining amusement from his fear.

That possibility quickly became reality once Anti suddenly blocked his way as Jack tried to duck behind the next pillar, slashing out and catching Jack right across the cheek. Before Jack could even try anything else, Anti slashed out again, cutting cleanly through his jacket and even grazing his shoulder, not exactly cutting too deep.

“As͢ ̸̛fúǹ̵ ̡́͠as ͏t̀hat͢͠ ̵͢w̧͡͡a̷̷̷s̷͞, ̛͡y̶͞o͘͜u̴͜ ̸̀d̢̛o͢͟͡ ̛h̶͟áv̴é ̴ţo̶͜͟ ͢͠u̶͜͜ņ̵̛d͞e͜͝r͢s̷̡͏t̸̕an̵͏d̷̷͢ ̴̛I'̷͠m̸ ̨͠r̷͟͟at̶͟her̵ ̧b̢u̡s̕͝͞y͜͠,͞͝ ̴̷͜J̀a̧c͢k̴̕.̕͞ ̴͠” Anti sneered, even shoving Jack back a few seconds after his second attack. “S̷o̧ ͏I̡͞'̷͜m̡̕͟ ̸afr̶a̸̶̡i̷͟͠d̶̵͢ I̸̕'͜ļ̷́l ͘h͝҉a͜v̨̀e ̀́t͡o̵̢̕ ̸̸͠é̶̢n̛d̕ ̸͘͞t͏͘hìs̛͝ ̴̨͟e̡͞n͜͠t҉͠i҉ŗe̷̡͞ t͡h̀i̢n̕g͝ ͏̛r҉i̧͡g̶h̵͠t͏̸̵ ́͢͡h͘e̵̡ŕ͠ȩ̧̀.̛́ ̵͢͝B͢u̷̵͢t̶̀̕,̢͡͝ ̷d͏̨͢ut͡y̸̧͡ c͠a̛͞l͟l̢͟s̡ ͢á͞f͞t͢é͡͠r̷̛͘ ̵͢a̵ll͡͡!” He rose the knife, so it would be exactly at neck height. A slit throat, his speciality after all. Jack tried for a minute to think of some way out of it. Some means of escape, before he quickly realized Anti would simply follow him wherever with that inhuman speed of his.

Which meant there was absolutely no other way out of this. This was the end.

“S̷͘͢͝͡A͏̢̛͏̸Y̶͘ ̛͡Ģ̸O̢͡͡Ó̕D̛̕͟͟͢B̸̢̀͟͡Y̸̡͟͞É͡!͡͞͝҉”

Jack tried to shield himself, putting his arms up as if to block the knife in a futile last ditch effort. And he waited. Waited for the knife to finally make contact. Whether it be a searing pain in his arms or the suddenness of a slit throat. But after a few minutes, there was absolutely nothing. No slash, no pain, nothing.

Jack lowered his arms slowly, almost afraid of what he would actually see. Someone was standing right in between both him and Anti, arms outstretched and completely rigid. He couldn’t tell who it was from behind, or even at first glance.

“T̸̢͝͝c͡͡h̸́͘͞.̷̨͟ ͢S̡͢͢͝͠h̶̵̢͜ǫ͡͞u̢͡l̷̢͠͡͏d̡͠'̧͡͝v̸̴̧̢͝é̵ ̵̛͠g̢̨͞͝u̢ę̸̨͞s͏̸҉̸̢śe̶̴d̴̨͜͜͞ ̷̶̢͞y̨͢͠o̷̷̡͘͘ú̴̧̕͟'͢͟d̢̨҉́͝ ̶͘͜d̵̡o̢͠ ́͜͠s̷̀͟͜͝ǫ̴̕m̵̶̸̢͝e̷̸͢͝t̛͢͝h̢̛i̕n̡̛̕g̀͘͏ ̧́t́͘͜h̨̢́̕ą͜͢͡t̶̷̴̢̧ ͢s̴͠t̶̨u͜͟͞p̷̡͢͜҉i̶̴͘̕͡d͞.̢͘͝ ̷̢̨̛͟S̡͞ȩ͡ȩ͟͡m҉̶͟͡s͘͏͜͞ ̡̨y̨ò̶͡ú̕҉ ̧̛҉w͟e̷͏r̀̕e͘̕͠ņ̀͠'́͞͏͢t̷̛ ͞͏͟҉a̸̷̵̡͢s̵̀ ̵̢͞ù͢͝s̛͟͢e̴͡f͡u̸̷͠͝͞ļ̸̕͢҉ ̡̕͟á͟͢s̸͘ ͞҉I̕͢͡͞ ̸̵̡͝t̵h̴̡́͏̡o̷̸̴͘͟ù̡̕̕ǵ͘͜͏҉h̕t̷̶̴̨ ͏͏͘̕͘ỳ̴̵͘͝ǫ̧͘ù̕ ̷w̢̕e҉̶̀̕r͞͏e͢҉͢,̢͢͝ ̷̴̶w̧͏̵̨ơ̡͘͞r͏̢̛́̕t̶͞h͜͞l̵҉ȩ̸́s͏̸s͞ ̵̶̀͘p̀͟͝͞u̶̴̡͞ṕ̨͟p̴͝e͢t̴̨͢͞͠.̸͜” Anti hissed, bringing his knife, which was now stained a bright red, back to his body. With no pity or mercy at all, he gave the person a shove, which made Jack jump back a few feet. The person landed on their back, giving Jack a chance to recognize them.

With a huge jolt of horror, he realized the person was Jameson, blood now pooling out from a brand new cut in his throat.

((Tags

@watermelonsinmyattic @ekhoecho

And kudos to @alexisdevil for creating this AU))

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #jack in wonderland #alice in wonderland au #fanfiction

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workingontruth · 5 years

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Part 5 of 7: The Gospel (In Full)...Stage 3; Surrender Me

June 21, 2019

[Forgive Me. Fill Me. SURRENDER ME. Command Us. Fuel Us.]

Can the good news of the Good News get any better than the moment in time when a human soul hears the voice of its Creator, and is enlivened by that Creator to accept his invitation into a rebirth as a citizen of heaven? Indisputably not (Stage 1; Forgive Me).

Still, it is our life in Christ that is intended to bring technicolor substantiation to that eternity-shifting moment when the Holy Spirit took up residence within us (Stage 2; Fill Me). And I’m concerned these days that our default handicap as first-world, self-resourcing people is prevailing over our ability to substantiate our new lives as ones belonging to another primary citizenship.

Going right for the bull’s eye on this third stage of the Gospel (something I’ve not done so well in my two previous entries on topic), and in the words of Dr. Tony Evans which I previously touched upon in Part 2,

“Our problem today is we have Christians who want God to get them to heaven, but who do not want Him to own them on earth.” (Adonai – The Owner of All, a sermon message by Tony Evans aired on The Alternative on or around April 15, 2013)

Last minute insert:

I SO dislike that I feel this concept of surrender has to be met with such directness and seeming negativity. But, acceptingly, to make sure I’m not miscommunicating the point by going soft around the edges, I’ve chosen to do so. Nonetheless, the beauty that comes to us on the other side of surrender is not negative at all, but wholly positive, joyous and freeing! It is because we don’t really know the heart of God that we come to this topic with a spirit of trepediation. Oh, how I wish I could communicate this better.

Here’s another way to look at the surrender of which I am speaking in this entry: I’m asking us to give up our paint-peeling, wood-framed, backyard sandbox and rusty water hose for the seemingly endless, snow-white sandy beaches and aqua warm waters of the Caribbean! C’mon, man! I can honestly say the most cherished words in my vocabulary have become surrender and brokenness. I don’t believe there is any other way to experience a deep and abiding walk with Jesus but through these dual remedies. We don’t have the space or time to go into it beyond that herein, but I had to try to bring a positive notion of this precious stage of the Gospel to the fore.

Okay, where were we…oh yes…

The evidence of this truth is all around us. Look at the way most who call themselves Christians live. In a phrase, we’re long on freedom in Christ, but short on living in compliant obedience as an act of worship to a Holy God (Ps. 103:11, 112:1, Jn. 14:24). We’re long on grace, but short on purity (Phil. 1:27, Col. 1:10). We’re long on self-indulgence and short on self-denial (Luke 9:23, Heb. 12:1, Mark 8:34). We’re long on having the glory of God ride with us down the highway of life, but we’re short on giving up the wheel of control.

This tells me we don’t know God. This tells me we don’t know who we are as Kingdom citizens in our new birth. This tells me we haven’t known the deep joy of an intimate fellowship with the Holy Spirit as we walk alongside Him. And this tells me we certainly don’t know surrender. For if we truly knew surrender, it would be the sweet anthem being sung over more of our lives.

Surrender.

I address the absolute necessity of this “white flag” kind of posture before God throughout Set Free (especially in the Introduction, and in chapters 12-17, 25-29, 34)…though I never mention it as a white flag. Annnnnd...hold on just a moment here .... Haha, I just searched the manuscript; I mention surrender 92 times. I had no idea! Certainly, it’s a repetitive theme throughout…but I believe it holds the key to the Christian life.

The Gospel calls us to the utter surrender of ourselves. How could we not if our theology of salvation is accurate? Is this not the message of Romans 6? Only as we daily reckon upon and cooperate with what God says is true of us as ones put to death and buried in Christ will we ever be able to live into its truth (Romans 6:4-7).

If God has put our old man to death, then that slain one is incapable of reigning from the grave unless we refuse to cooperate with truth and, instead, choose to live in a lie.

This whole matter of surrender was supposed to have been settled when we asked God to make us into a new creation by forgiving our sins, disconnecting us from our sin nature, and by recreating in us his resurrected Life. It is only we who give Satan the power to deceive us with the continual lie that we cannot trust God in ongoing surrender.

Yes, the ongoing Christian life demands our cooperation.

And because I cannot help myself, here’s a freebie; I just posted the very center of chapters 25-29 referenced above, Chapter 27, HERE (scroll down the page to find Chapter 27). In it, I address the core of our inability to surrender control of our lives, and all of the evolving circumstances therein.

I think of the 5 Stages in The Gospel (In Full), this third benchmark is our greatest challenge. But only in its wake can we find the keys to the final two stages.

Okay, because this is the undercurrent theme of an entire book, I must limit my focus here and point you to Set Free for the extent of my heart on the matter.

But for the purposes of this 3rd Stage of The Gospel (In Full), let’s simply say ...

It is only through an unrestrained surrender of every part of our lives that we find the freedom God intends for us.

But this kind of surrender is not easy. It takes the Holy Spirit to help us detect the depth of the talons of self-confidence, pride and self-resourcing that cling to us if we so much as glance in the direction of our old Adam–for Satan’s lies are always ready to dog us if we allow him to turn us inward upon ourselves.

And then, in our quest to find the life of freedom and joy Jesus intends for us as his children, there are the very practical, cultural realities of our heritage–how we’ve grown up as Americans. The very taste of surrender as it proceeds from our lips is somehow detestable, not to mention culturally unacceptable.

In our secularist dialect as Americans, surrender is a vulgar word, full of weakness, defeat and loss. As a nation, we would claim to have earned our cherished freedom through victory, not surrender. Tyrannous, controlling, power-hungry, freedom robbing regimes have needed to be kept at bay. Therefore, as freedom-loving American citizens, we equate surrender to a loss of freedom, to enslavement and oppression.

But as heaven’s citizens, everything is turned upside down. This is because the authority to which we have surrendered is the Author of perfect freedom, perfect administration and perfect joy. He is not tyrannous. He is not oppressive.

Think of it; as Christians, surrender was the initial, beautiful act which brought us out of slavery and into freedom. But somehow, too many don’t equally understand the ongoing nature of the Gospel to be reflective of a perpetual and unconditional surrender.

In short, the evidence of our lives reveals that we don’t trust God with our life … “just” our salvation.

How weird is that?!

Notice the pronoun usage above. It speaks volumes. If we really understood the real-life, theological implications of the cross over our lives (which should be an essential part of early discipleship), we would rebel against the idea that the life we now live even belongs to us. It doesn’t.

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. - Galatians 2:20

But until we electively deliver ourselves to him without controversy (after our having been saved), he cannot have his way with us. I have illustrated this to much greater effect in Chapter 27 (again, scroll down the page to find Chapter 27).

No, the title deed to our lives belongs to the One who paid the full purchase price for it. It is his life.*

* (Pardon the short pronoun diversion–couldn’t help myself.)

But we somehow think that although we gave our eternal destiny into the hands of God, we are left to living our lives here and now according to the insights of the old man God put to death when we gave our hearts to Him. Now we wouldn’t come out and say it that way, but the way we live our lives betrays us.

In short, we have an ownership problem.

I believe we all want to experience the after-effects of the Holy Spirit’s having filled us. We want the victory-aiding power of God in our lives. We want the internal, personal affirmation that this God to whom we gave our hearts is real. But, and here again is the point, until we recognize Jesus as Owner, He does not have free reign in our lives to do as He pleases (Did I mention Chapter 27 in Set Free?).

Until we recognize Jesus as Owner, we will never own a true revelation of the Spirit’s indwelling which could revolutionize the life of any Christian.

So, this begs the question,

“How then can we experience a life-changing, perspective-altering recognition of the Spirit’s indwelling?”

The tough news is that we cannot do, find or earn this. Our options are limited. There is no formula but release. There is no prescription but ongoing surrender. God is God. We are not. What we do know is what He tells us–that if we knock, the door will be opened to us. What we do know is that He will not give us a snake when we need bread, that He has purchased us with a great price, and that He desires our fellowship so much that Jesus died to gain it–rather than live forever without it. What we do know is that He desires to live through us and empower us supernaturally, differentiating us from the on-looking world, that His name be praised through our lives.

But until we own more than a surface acquaintance with surrender, we will live our lives in the in-between. Until we lose our appetite for control, until control of our lives becomes to us something nauseatingly repulsive, we will be unable to successfully live into our new citizenship.

I think now is a good time to remind us that there are two kingdoms up and running (Jn. 18:36, 14:30, 15:19, Eph. 2:1-2, Matt. 6:33, Phil. 3:20).

It is vital new believers understand that they have been supernaturally transferred from the kingdom of darkness (this world) into the kingdom of Light (heaven). It is critical that they understand how they have factually become citizens of another place (Jn. 18:36). This is an important, foundational building block onto which their future faith and identity in Christ can anchor.

When we choose to place our trust in Jesus, our life, and thus our citizenship, is transferred over from the world (John 15:19) to a kingdom of another place (John 18:36).

But Greg, you say, why does my life as a believer still look so much like it did before I came to Christ? Why is there still a discontented ache in my life? Why am I not more satisfied as a Christian? Why can I not find this “increasing obedience” in my daily life instead of repeating the same, selfish behaviors which possessed me as a non-believer?

Dear Christian friend, if you feel your life is the poster child for James 2:17, where the bible says that faith by itself, if not accompanied by outward evidences of that faith, is dead, then you may still be holding onto your life. It may be that you cannot advance in your Christian walk with God because you are unwilling to surrender control of your life (all of it) over to God. And in so doing, you are regularly keeping the Holy Spirit living in you at bay. Study Mark 6:5-6 and Matt. 13:58 if you don’t believe our faith and trust, or the lack thereof, can keep the power of God on the sidelines of our lives.

Any way you slice it, the authentic Christian life is the one that looks like it from the outside in. If you know your life isn’t taking on the appearance of a new life, steadily increasing in surrender and taking on the character of Christ, then it is time to address this incongruence with the benchmark of an accurate theology of who you are in Christ.

James inextricably links our faith to the outward manifestations of that faith when he challenges someone who believes that an inward faith alone is sufficient in itself.

“Show me your faith apart from your works,” he says, “and I will show you my faith by my works.” – James 2:18

A saving faith is always accompanied by outward evidences of that faith. Coming to Jesus means, in the challenging words of Billy Graham, that

“...the Lord Jesus Christ will come into your life and reform, conform and transform you into an obedient follower. If that is not your desire, you have every reason to question whether or not you have been saved.”

Part of the Gospel’s Stage One repentance is a change of direction in how we live our lives. If God truly has our heart, then He will also have our behavior. Period. If He doesn’t have our behavior, we have every reason to question whether He has our heart.

The bible asks,

How can we who died to sin still live in it (Romans 6:2)?

But it is super important we realize God is after more than our conduct; He is after our heart.

When God has our heart and not merely our behavior, our conduct in Christ becomes joyously compulsive–and our obedience comes along for the ride by default!

Indeed, when we try to live the Christian life by pleasing God out of the shallow resources of the old man (who has been done away with when we gave our life to Jesus–Romans 6:4, Colossians 3:3), we are quenching the power source who lives within us as children of God!

When we fail to understand that the power to please God lives in us by his Spirit, we can easily revert to the thinking that the best way to abide in Christ is by earning his favor day-by-day, in what we do. And when we live this way, not only are we incapable of pleasing God, but we have lost sight of the freeing core of Christianity; we cannot earn God’s favor or proximity to him by what we do. This is as true after coming to Christ as it is prior to our coming to him for our salvation.

The only thing that gains us proximity to God is the blood of our Saving One, Jesus Christ.

So, until we let go of the self-preserving tendencies of the old man who died in Christ when we gave our heart to Jesus, we’re going to be stuck – never making it over the “hump” of the mid-stage of this Gospel (In Full).

Cutting right to the chase again, and in slightly different words than in the fourth paragraph of this entry, you may never experience deep communion and the intended freedom of the Gospel because you love your sinful self-reliance more than you love your God. I do not make this inquiry of our hearts glibly, but with a sadness of heart. There are likely dozens of scenarious that play out in our daily lives where asking this question would be appropriate:

Do I love my sinful self-reliance more than I love my God?

This inquiry of our hearts is a call to surrender. This is a call to help us make choices that glorify God and enliven his Spirit’s ability to mold us into whose we are!

In closing, I want to point us to the glorious upside of surrender. When we surrender, we are set free. When we surrender, we are no longer Christian imposters before God. When we surrender, we lose fear and gain God’s confidence. When we surrender, John 15 begins to come to life for us.

Once through the marvelous inbreaking awareness of the Holy Spirit’s work in us we emotionally and subjectively understand we are not The Vine, then we are finally gaining in our journey toward an honestly fulfilling life.

Once the Spirit of God within us has been welcomed to break us, the resulting surrender frees us from the pressure of having to lead our own lives. Instead, we begin to understand how to follow–as we abide in Him, the true Vine.

In Jesus’ very words to us, he says this in John 15:1, 4-5, 9:

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.

Then Jesus goes on to tell us that our surrendered obedience to him will enable us to abide in his love. In so doing, we will live our lives without quenching his Spirit in us. Then, in verse 11, he gives us this glorious conclusion to the matter:

These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.

We can find an unmitigated, boundless, full joy that doesn’t hinge on the moment-by-moment circumstances of life when we learn to surrender and abide in the Source of our life.

And my prayer is that in this day of the duplicitous-living, ever-distracted evangelical church attender, there will be an increased emphasis on helping believers understand the theological basis behind the new life in Christ. Scripture contains plenty of Spirit-empowered illumination to help many a believer surrender once and for all to the One who purchased and rightfully owns his bride.

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