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hispipsqueak · 3 years

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Good Little Pet

Satan x F!Reader - NSFW

WC: 2.5K

TW: pet play, anal play, choking, master/pet dynamics, maid outfits, light degradation, unprotected sex

A/N: I’ve been on a huge Satan kick lately. I roast the hell out of him, but would I still die to be his kitten? You bet! Sorry I’ve been MIA for a bit. I have so many fics I’m working on, and not enough time in the day. Thank you for all the support friends. <3 I see your tags and they honestly make my entire life! Also I did proofread this, but I’ve also been staring at it for a week so plz don’t hate me if there’s typos! :D

All characters are 18+

The House of Lamentation had been unusually relaxed today. Most of the brothers were out, leaving only three home. Surprisingly the room was mostly silent as Levi had his headphones on as he played his game and even Mammon had been quiet, as he fiddled with his D.D.D.

Satan thumbed through a mystery novel as he sipped his tea. Though he usually preferred to read in his room, the ambience here was relaxed enough for once, that he could focus.

Until the door opened and Asmodeus walked in, dragging you behind him laughing. The two of you had been out shopping and the stack of boxes you held towered above you.

"Ah, Satan could you help me with this?" You asked, giggling about something Asmo had said. Sighing as he placed his bookmark, Satan reached over to help you with the boxes, revealing your smiling face and the cat-ear headband you had on top of your head.

"Satan, isn't MC adorable as a cute cat?! Nya for us MC!" Asmo asked. You rolled your eyes, but put your hand up in a paw shape, letting out a sweet "nya". Satan's eyes widened and he could feel heat rising into his cheeks. He quickly turned around.

"Uh, yes of course. I'll be going back to my room." He placed the boxes on the floor and hurried away as you and Asmo looked at each other confused.

Satan closed his door behind him and pressed his back to the wooden frame.

Satan often considered himself to be more level headed than most of his brothers, but he couldn't deny his attraction to you. Still, he showed less emotion outwardly than the rest of the brothers and he prided himself in that. However, seeing you in those cat ears, giving cute little meows as your eyes gazed up at him? Satan could feel his growing erection tenting his pants.

He had seen one of Levi's games a while back that featured a cat girl in a scantily clad maid outfit on the front cover. Now, he pictured you in the same outfit, cat ears atop your head, your skimpy dress leaving little to the imagination as you knelt in front of him, your lips parted waiting for your master's orders.

Fuck. He let out a shaky breath as the image of you bent over his desk, collared and begging for him to fuck you now entered his mind. His hand slid down to his throbbing cock, desperately wanting release.

A knock at the door interrupted him.

"Satan? You left your book and your tea. I brought it for you." Your voice called out, tentatively.

Shit. Satan looked around wildly. before sitting at his desk to hide his obvious arousal.

"Come in." He called out hoarsely, hoping you didn't notice the quiver in his voice.

You opened the door, still wearing those damned ears and looked concerningly at him.

"Are you feeling alright? You rushed out of there and your face is really red." You placed his things on the desk as you walked towards him, avoiding the precarious stacks of books around the room. He quickly grabbed a book from the top of a pile and placed it on his lap as you approached him.

"I'm fine, just got lost in thought." He lied. You raised an eyebrow but didn't press it. The pile of books next to him chose that moment to clatter to the ground and before he could react, you knelt down in front of him to pick up the fallen books.

He looked down at you and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. You looked up at him innocently, identical to the naughty visions of you in his mind.

You placed a hand on his knee and he let out a low groan. Your eyes widened.

"Satan? I-"

"Come down for dinner!" Asmo's voice chirped out from outside the door. You stood up and turned.

"Do you want me to let them know you're not feeling well? I can bring you something back."

Satan nodded. He had to really take care of the very pressing issue at hand and knew he wouldn't be able to sit through an entire agonizing meal.

----

"Pass the salt, Asmo."

"I didn't hear a 'nya', MC." Asmo giggled, poking his tongue out at you. Your hand flew to your hair.

"I forgot I had these on!" You laughed.

"Let's hope Satan doesn't see those." Levi muttered.

You cocked your head. "What do you mean."

Levi's face flushed. "Uh...no reason, er, nothing!!!"

You narrowed your eyes at the reddening demon.

"Satan's obsession with cats doesn't stop at real cats. Didn't he get obsessed with that stupid cat girl game?" Belphie yawned, sliding his half-finished plate to Beel who dug in happily.

"You mean Neko Magic Maid♡. It wasn't even that good of a game!" Levi said, "It definitely wasn't as good as SuperStar Magic Maid…"

"Yeah. I don't think he was interested in the storyline." Mammon interjected, laughing.

Lucifer scolded the brothers for being crass but your mind wandered. Was that why Satan was acting so weird? After dinner, you headed to Levi's room.

"Hey Levi! I was wondering more about that game you were talking about? The catgirl one?"

Levi didn't even turn from his computer screen. "Yeah it's on that shelf. But if you really like the Magic Maid series you should start with Springtime Magic…AHHH HE'S RESPAWNED!" He yelled, ignoring you again for the game he was currently playing.

You grabbed the game and slipped out of his room quietly. Glancing at the cover you saw a cat girl dressed in a ridiculously short maid costume. Her ears and tail were perked up and she donned a black collar around her neck with a little bell and tag that read 'Master'.

You grinned as you headed to your room. This would be fun.

----

"Satan?"

"Come in."

Satan turned the page in his book. Thankfully after that disastrous night, you hadn't worn that headband again, though he'd be lying if he said the image from you that day hadn't been filling his mind as he jerked his cock each night.

He heard you step into the room, but you didn't say anything. Looking up, his jaw dropped.

You were dressed in a maid outfit somehow more revealing than the one from the game. Your breasts were practically popping out of the dress, and the short skirt barely covered your ass. He could see the slight bulge of your thighs over top of your sheer thigh-high socks and he had the urge to bite that spot over and over.

You had the cat ears on again and as you walked towards him, he could hear a jingling noise. Glancing at your neck he saw a simple black collar with his name on the tag and a silver bell.

"MC what are you doing?" He breathed out shakily. You placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing him into his desk chair.

"Taking care of you…Master." You knelt down on the floor and looked at him expectantly.

Satan blinked rapidly. He had to be dreaming.

"Can I please you, Master?" You asked. He nodded, at a loss for words, and you began to unbutton his pants, freeing his rapidly hardening cock. Your hands wrapped around it squeezing, and you slowly moved up and down. Satan let out a groan.

You moved closer, pressing your lips to the tip of his cockhead before lapping at the beads of precum from the slit. You slid his length into your warm, wet mouth and looked into his eyes, swirling your tongue around his cock. This elicited another grunt from the blonde demon.

As you bobbed up and down on his length, he rested his hand on your hair, gently pushing you deeper on his cock. You moaned around him and the vibrations made his heart race. He looked down at you, and noticed the tail that led to under your skirt.

The realization set a switch off in his brain. He bucked his hips, forcing more of his cock into your mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck. That's it kitten. You like choking on Master's cock?" He asked, his fingers gripping tightly to your hair. You could only gag around him as a response, and the noises you let out were absolutely sinful.

"Such a good little pet. Your throat is squeezing me so well, kitten. But you can go deeper, can't you? Don't you want to please your master?" He asked.

Frantically you nodded and forced even more of him down your throat, trying your best to breathe out of your nose. As you tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes watered as you felt his cock throb in your throat and your vision blurred, from tears or lack of oxygen, you weren’t sure. He pulled back and you gasped for air, tear streaked face looking up at him. Satan panicked, apologies already forming in his head before you grinned and pulled him back into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck, such a good kitten. Addicted to master’s cock.” Satan groaned out, his eyes closing as you found your pace on his length. He could feel his release creeping up on him, a fiery feeling in the core of him as your mouth enveloped his cock. The room filled with soft pants and the jingling of the bell around your neck. He met your eyes as you continued to take him deeper. He wouldn’t last much longer if you kept like this.

“That’s it kitten, that’s it. You want master’s milk? Want your cute belly full of your master’s cum? Tell me, kitten.”

You whined around him, releasing his cock from your lips.

“Please master. Need to please you. Want your cum.” Your eyes were glassy with tears and drool dripped down the corners of your plump lips. Satan wished he could snap a picture of you looking so lewd.

“Good girl. Milk my cock kitten. Milk my fucking cock.” He gasped as you sped up around him, sloppier and more vigorously than before. Spit coated your chin and spilled onto his thighs as you wrapped your tongue around his cock.

“FUCK! Fuck, just like that!! Oh fuck, cumming!! Take it all, kitten. Fucking take it.” Satan wailed, his muscles tensing as he shot load after load down your throat. You struggled to swallow everything, with some dripping off your lips. Breathing hard, he scooped it with his finger, pushing it back into your mouth.

“Don’t waste a drop kitten.”

You sucked on his finger, a content smile on your face. He reached down, tugging your wrists and pulling you to your feet.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you kitten? Oh no...I want to explore every little bit of you.” He whispered, bending you over his desk. Flipping up your skirt he admired as the tail slid into your ass and gently tugged it, pulling a low moan from you.

“Such a naughty kitten. I can’t wait to fill all your holes with my seed.” He said, his hand palming your ass, before smacking you hard. You jolted forward with a soft whimper. He tugged at your tail again, chuckling as you squeezed your thighs together.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already squirming.” His fingers pressed against your drooling cunt. “Already this wet, just from a few tugs on your tail? What a slutty little pet you are.”

You moaned as he pressed his fingers into your cunt, the slick arousal easily letting him into you. He slowly pumped in and out of you as you attempted to grind against his palm, whining when he gripped your hips, stilling you.

“Look at you, kitten. Debasing yourself just to get off. How filthy.” His voice was sadistic and yet your body trembled with desire under his touch. Your brain was hazy with his fingers rhythmically plunging into you and all you wanted was for him to use you for his pleasure.

“Please Master. Please touch me.” You pleaded, squeezing your thighs together as he pulled his fingers out of you. He pushed you down on the desk, as he pressed his cockhead against your entrance.

“Beg.”

“Please fuck me master. Please let me cum around your cock. I need you so bad, sir – FUCK!”

Satan slammed his cock into you, causing you to cry out. His hand gripped your hip as he fucked himself deeper into you.

“Scream as loud as you want kitten, no one is going to hear you through the spells in this room. You’re clenching around me so deliciously, pet.” His fingertips bruised your skin and papers and books were knocked off the desk as he slammed into you over and over.

Your body shook and you felt so full with his cock in your pussy and the plug in your ass. You felt stretched to your limit and still he pressed on, fucking you until you saw stars.

“I can feel the pressure of your tail plug through your delicious cunt, kitten. Doesn’t it feel good to be so full? You’re such a lewd little kitten, aren’t you?” As he taunted you with his words, his fingers danced around your clit, causing your legs to feel like they were giving out. Relentless, he continued pounding into you as tears fell from your eyes.

“So, so full. So good, master! Your cock is so perfect, Master.” you babbled, your brain delirious with lust. The fire burning in your core was so overwhelming, your body ached for more and you needed him, needed your master to push you over that peak.

Satan growled, feeling his demon form activate. His tail wrapped itself around your neck, holding you in place as he wrecked you.

“Your lewd little pussy is fluttering around my cock, kitten. Are you going to cum for me? Are you going to cum for your master’s cock?” He panted out. He was close, apparent as his thrusts became harder and faster.

“Yes please Master. Let me cum on your cock!” You choked out, his tail tightening around your throat. Your eyes fluttered as you felt back arch.

“Cum for me, pet.”

That was all it took. You wailed as your cunt clenched around him, creaming around his cock. Your body convulsed and you felt dazed as you gushed around him.

“Fuck, kitten!” He groaned out. His hand slammed you down as he unloaded into you. He was so deep, you could practically feel his cum in your belly as he shot ropes of his hot seed into your body over and over. After what felt like a lifetime, he slowly slid out of you.

Picking you up he delicately placed you on his bed, wiping aways the traces of cum that dripped onto your thighs. He gently worked your tail plug out and placed it on the desk before covering you with his sheets.

“You did so good for me, kitten.” He whispered into your skin. Your eyes were too heavy to open, so you just smiled sleepily and curled into his chest. Running his hand through your hair, he undid the cat ear clips and placed them on his nightstand before succumbing to exhaustion, his whispered words barely audible.

“Good little pet.”

#obey me #obey me satan #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #satan x mc #satan x y/n #satan smut #omswd

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

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Bad (4): Moral of the Story

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: Your divorce with Ransom is finalized and some changes, good and bad, occur for the both of you.

A/n: Sorry loves that I’m slow with getting out chapters! There’s just a lot going on lately, so I apologize that this one is kinda short. Next chapter will be better!

Also, many thanks to those of you who voted! hehe I might have been a little biased and wanted Andy in the story too...

Warnings: mild profanity. more angst.

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist

On November 12th, a life you once knew was officially left behind.

That was the day a judge signed off his judgement and you and Ransom were officially divorced.

After all the hell he put you through, one would think you’d be happy. But honestly? You were still unhappy. Of course you’d never left him back in your life, yet your heart was still broken.

It wasn’t supposed the end this way.

You weren’t ever supposed to be sitting in your car, alone, letting your confident facade fall, as your shoulders racked with heavy sobs.

Unfortunately, life is just always full of surprises. Good and bad ones.

Today seemed as if it were just the perfect day for a divorce, if there was ever such a thing.

Rain heavily fell from the ominous-looking clouds, such as your tears uncontrollably streamed from your eyes. You were thankful for the dark lighting, making it impossible for the others parked in the dimly-lit parking garage to see your distressed state.

Behind your tears, the radio quietly played, and you took a second to listen to the song, reaching forward to turn to volume up, just the slightest. Its lyrics spoke to you, and somehow you knew things were gonna be okay.

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

You can think that you're in love

When you're really just in pain

Some mistakes get made

That's alright, that's okay

In the end it's better for me

That's the moral of the story

Once your emotions made their much needed escape, you took a deep breath, as if you were starting afresh. This was your life now, and from here on out, you’d make the calls. Ransom was no longer looming around the back of your conscience and it was nice. He was of the past, and currently you were preparing for the future. Even your little one knew it, as they lightly kicked you, almost as if they were saying, ‘it’s gonna be okay.”

And you knew that was true. You had a baby on the way, and that was more than enough. A precious gift from the heavens, who would be making their appearance in a little over a month. Just the mere thought brought a smile to your face, one you caught in the rearview mirror. Analyzing the smile, you realized that it wasn’t forced and that you were finally, truly, happy.

A few weeks had passed since the divorce, and you were functioning just fine, some would even say incredibly. For you, the dark clouds of your divorce and past love life had moved on, but for Ransom, it was quite the opposite…

Ransom was miserably laying on his couch, legs propped over the armrest, head lazily laid on a throw pillow, half of his mind focusing on the tv, while the other half, imagined a time when you were there with him.

“Ransom, have I ever told you how much I loved you?”

You hand rested on his soft and clean-shaven face, gazing happily into his never ending blue eyes. The man pretended to think, shaking his head then leaning forward to capture you lips in a kiss. Ransom pushed your back against the couch, as the two of you laughed, although still lipped locked.

“Ransom…”

The man’s eyes may have been glued to the tv screen, but instead his mind was replaying the memory of you. He could even hear your voice, as if the daydream was nothing more than reality, until another voice cut into his mind. A higher pitched one, if you will.

“Ransom!”

He didn’t respond to the girl, the call of his name being mixed with two voices. Blair’s and yours. It took everything to hold onto to your voice and ignore the other.

“Ransom.”

Finally, the woman’s voice, who was actually standing in front of him, broke through, shattering his memories and pushing him into reality.

Ransom quickly sat upright, to act as if nothing happened, allowing the smiling woman to sit in his lap, while peppering kisses over his jawline. Her kisses were nothing like yours. You kisses were filled will love and not lust.

“Oh Ranny. How did I get so lucky?”

He plastered a fake smile on his face, leaning into to kiss her nose, instantly repulsed by his own actions.

“You know, I already did some wedding planning today.”

The words that left the woman’s mouth made Ransom’s constant thinking freeze. He had been so eager to getting over you that he blindly proposed to this woman, who was obviously no better than himself. She was going to put up with his shit, unlike you. That was definitely something he didn’t need in this new marriage. Actually he didn’t even need a marriage.

“Blair, I’m sorry I just can’t.”

Her eyes grew like the size of saucers, as she hopped off of Ransom’s lap, standing tall and towering over the sitting man, clearly ready for a fight.

“Can’t what, Hugh?”

“Get married.”

The scoff she let out was loud enough to be heard in China, before her pitchy voice started yelling at Mr. Heartbreaker. She really was overreacting, this was Ransom Drysdale after all.

“You asshole! Is it because I’m not (y/n), huh is that it? Newsflash! She won’t take you back. You’ve fucked up Ransom and now you are losing me too!”

At the mention of your name, a fire ignited inside Ransom. Yes, he screwed up, but he didn’t need anyone, especially Blair, to tell him that.

“Yeah, I screwed up, but you know what? We are both fuckers who ruin the lives of the ones we love. You knew damn well I was married, and seeing what I did to her, you knew what you were getting yourself into! I’m not blaming you, cause it takes two to tango, sweetheart!”

Blair stared daggers into Ransom’s eyes, him doing the same, as both of their chests were heaving from their screaming match. The man had made a great point, although self-deprecating yet true. When he was married, he was so willingly ready to cheat, it was a sign that Ransom would never be ready to commit to anyone, even when he thought he was in love.

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to be arguing and drunk, though, while even sober, Ransom’s mind never functioned properly. Not after you left anyway.

Their argument continued into the night, with Blair leaving behind her rock of a ring in the palm of Ransom’s hand. And truth be told, that when woman angrily strutted out the door, Ransom felt at ease for once. He had finally put a patch on his sinking boat that rocked in the large ocean of his fuck-ups. When the bed was empty that night, it felt nice. Why he ever traded you for Blair was beyond him, and he hated himself for it. But no, he knew you’d never take him back, you were too good for him. Hopefully, you’d find someone else who’d love you better than he treated you. For once, Ransom put your needs before his. If you were to show up on his doorstep tomorrow moring with an engagement ring, and a man at your waist, he’d hoensly congratulate you. As much as it would pain him to see you move on, he knew no amount of pain could weigh up to the heartbreak you felt.

This was his punishment.

It really did take all the physical restraint in Ransom to not run up to you, fall to his knees and beg when he saw you those weeks ago in court. It took everything in him to not call, and apologize for the hell he put you through. Because as much as you deserved an apology, he knew you’d never forgive him and it would hurt him even more.

For you, as the time to your due date got closer, you suddenly realized that one income might not be enough. Bills after bills can bleed one dry. So, last Saturday, you saw an ad online for a personal assistant, the requirements were slim and the hours were as needed. After four long days, you finally received a chance for an interview, which unfortunately occurred during your work hours. Lorraine, the sweetest woman on the planet, offered to work your shift, giving you the time to rush off to the DA’s office. Newton wasn’t too far of a drive, and at this point you’d travel across country just to give this precious life inside of you, a good beginning. Being eight months pregnant, probably ruined your chances of getting the job, but when you met your “hopefully soon-to-be boss”, he seemed to not care. Actually, he was willing to give you the jobs, but was concerned it would be to much for you. It took a few tries, but you finally assured the man, leaving his office only to see him again tomorrow.

You came to know your boss as Andy Barber, a man with a heart of gold, and his worries always about you. It was endearing, and you started to unintentionally drift closer to the man. One late night in that very November, Andy had decided to work well past his usual hours. It was pitiful to see the man all alone in the building as the only source of light was at his desk. Thanksgiving holiday was coming up and Andy begged for you to go home and start your holiday break. For minutes your both “bickered” back and forth, until you finally left, giving Andy a sense of relief. He really did care about you, although he never said so. Your were his employee and he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. Well, until tonight anyway.

Just as Andy thought he’d sent you home, you came back ten minutes later, a small pizza box in one hand, while the other held a liter of soda. A grin spread across Andy’s face, as he stood up to take the box from you, clearing off room on his desk for the two of you to eat. While enjoying your makeshift dinner, you and Andy started to open up to each other even more, carrying on small talk, that led to something else.

“So how far along are you, (y/n)?”

“About eight months.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in surprise, while also admiring you for your dedication.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I can’t even imagine how hard all of this is for you.”

Your boss motioned to all of the paperwork on his desk, to which you just shook your head. It really wasn’t an inconvenience at all.

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I’m the only one making a home for this baby, so I do what I can.”

Your eyes trailed up from your belly to be met with Andy’s sympathetic smile.

“I wouldn’t have known, but I do know this baby has the best mother of them all.”

At the compliment you let out a small laugh, a sound that made Andy beam, as the two of you continued to work on some files. To keep the night from falling silent, you continued to talk with the man, not missing a beat in your conversation.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me. My husband, err, ex-husband, Ransom, cheated on me, but he did leave me this precious gift.”

For some reason, you felt compelled to tell Andy your story, like you needed to get it off your chest to someone other than Lorraine. Come to think about it, Andy was the only other person you trusted, Lorraine, of course, being the first. In the two weeks you had worked together, the man had made an everlasting impression on you.

Oh good god, why did you just spill your guts to the man? He probably doesn't care for your sob story--

“Ransom? As in Ransom Drysdale?”

You nodded your head, preparing yourself for some spew of judgement.

“That’s right! I’ve heard of him... and you. The two of you seemed in love. I’m so sorry (y/n), you didn’t deserve it, honey.

Not only were you shocked that Andy did genuinely care, but the pet name sounded like it was a second nature to him, which seemed to make your heart swell.

“Thanks. It’s led me here though! To this amazing job with my lovely boss.”

Feeling a surge of confidence, with hopes that maybe Andy felt the same way, you shot him a playful wink. Your eyes dazzling in the yellow light of the desk lamp, making Andy view you almost as an angel. Thank the heavens he wasn’t standing, because your adorable wink made his knees weak.

If Andy was going to become close to you as he hoped, now was the time to come clean about his past, and serve it on a platter as you had done. A good relationship always starts with trust.

“Well if it makes it any better, I went through something similar. My wife left me years ago, with my son too. Last year, I went to go visit them, only to find they’d been in a car accident-”

A stray drop of a tear fell onto the paper underneath Andy, and it broke your heart to see him this way. It was obviously hard for him to tell the story, and you’d heard enough. Deciding to make a bold move, you moved around the desk and wrapped your arms around Andy’s shoulders.

The man solemnly turned towards you, his chair swiveling around along with him, giving you the space to sit on his knees, while holding him close. His beard tickled your neck, as silent tears were shed. Your hand soothingly ran along his back, as you placed soft kisses to his temple. Andy’s arms were at your twisted waist, the baby bump slightly in the way, although you had turned your body to accommodate the man’s large figure.

The two of you stayed locked in each other’s embrace for a long four minutes, until Andy pulled back, his arms still around your waist. Slowly, you brought your hand around from his neck, and to his cheek, using your thumb to wipe at the dry tears. Andy leaned into your touch and smiled contently at you. He was a broken man, who needed some love. Exactly the kind you’d shown him.

Without second thought, you pressed your lips to Andy’s, noticing how his lips felt different than Ransom’s, his beard making you giggle just a bit. After what seemed to be forever, you and Andy reluctantly pulled away from each other, blissful smiles on your faces.

From that night forward, you and Andy Barber started dating. Dinners out after long nights of work, or movies at home. He reminded you so much of how Ransom was in the beginning, except this time, you knew that this man wouldn't break your heart.

For Thanksgiving, you invited Andy over for dinner as the two of you were all alone this year, no family this time, and your friends had their own lives.

Dinner started out great, you and Andy bought a small Turkey, basting and then roasting it, along with making some side dishes, most of them being microwaveable. Honestly, the food had tasted delicious regardless of the way it was cooked.

Just as you were about to dig into the feast before your eyes, a text message rang through on your phone. Who would be texting you at this hour, especially on thanksgiving?

Ransom- I know this isn’t the time, but I was wondering if tomorrow you’d like to go out for lunch. Not as a date or anything, but so I can apologize to you and explain. I’m not looking for forgiveness, but you deserve to know.”

Your face looked as if you had seen a ghost, the expression scaring Andy as he had peeked up from his plate to see you not eating, and instead staring into the void of your cell phone screen.

“(y/n), what’s wrong?”

Reaching across the table, Andy grabbed your free hand, slightly startling you from your deep thoughts.

“Uh. Ransom. He texted me. Asked for lunch tomorrow to explain everything.”

The man, still holding your hand, shook his head, prompting you to continue on with the story.

A part of you wondered why the events of the past had happened, and to get closure, you needed answers. Maybe it wasn’t in your best interest, but the curiosity inside of you was piqued. Now that you knew Ransom was willingly ready to talk, you also knew that if you didn’t take this opportunity, it would instead eat away at you. Something that you definitely didn’t need.

“Andy, what should I do?”

“Oh honey, I know you want to know what happened , so go. But if you ever feel uncomfortable, call me and I’ll be there to kick his ass.”

You laughed at Andy’s protectiveness, and lightly kissed his hand that was enclosing yours. Looking down, you felt a tiny yet powerful kick. A sign from the little one that his or her father still didn’t know about their existence. The ending of Ransom’s text flashed in your brain, the irony of it all laughing at you.

You deserve to know.

Ransom was an asshole, that’s for sure, but in the end he fathered this child, and deserved to know that much. The same went for yourself, as you were entitled to the story that destroyed your marriage.

Tomorrow is definitely gonna be one for the books...

another a/n: If you’ve made it here (the end) I applaud you very much, but while you’re here, I apologize for this chapter. The writing style is that of a fifth grader, and I am forever ashamed that i actually posted it haha.

Anyway, the next chapter should hopefully be better!

taglist (series and in general tags): @kiwihoee @buckybarnesthehotshot @memissbee @tricereads @tonystankschild @coffeebooksandfandom @ria132love @what-is-your-wish @maan24 @bval-1 @jemimah-b99 @turtoix @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @l-u-n-a-m @lexeeehhh @hc-geralt-23

lemme know if you wanna join, be removed, or if i tagged the wrong person!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x y/n #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction

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lamentsof-bee · 4 years

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taking scissors to pure canon - take two

i wrote this fic for @perseachase bc we couldn't believe that royai didn't end up together and we are 100% FMAB trash. always.

i’m not saying i wrote it better (but wendy might >.< (KIDDING hiroshi onogi plz don’t kill me!))

this story wrote itself and really wasn't for anyone but us but i figured if we were feeling this way, maybe someone else was too. endless pining and never-quite-fluff is always a must.

idk, shameless self indulgence as always. but y'all can read it if you want (only if you don't judge my constant change of tense tho!!! it's a MOOD ok???)

(also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498194)

Summary: There are plenty of ways their story could have ended. But there was only one ending that was right.

Riza Hawkeye swore to her Colonel that she would follow him into hell. He never realized that one day, he would truly need her to do so.

They had heartbreak a-plenty under their belt. And scars to prove their worth. After Ishval... after the Homonculus... after everything, didn't they deserve a softer ending?

[A story that fills in the gaps and voices the thoughts of the truest OTP to ever walk the streets of Amestris]

The first time Riza Hawkeye met Roy Mustang she had come into the kitchen through the backdoor. The estate still seemed grand back then, it was clean and her father had been esteemed and passionate enough to make a good living for his family.

Roy stood at the stove watching a pot boil.

Riza entered through the door letting the house cat she had chased in the garden escape her arms.

‘I think it’s hot.’ She said nodding at the pot in front of him.

‘Hm?’ A beat had passed. ‘Oh, yeah. Professor Hawkeye is having me look at all sources of heat so –’

‘So you’re staring at a pot of boiling water and hoping it will impart some wisdom on you?’

She had deadpanned it.

‘The secrets of alchemy are many.’ He was too distracted by his task to notice her jab, or at least that’s what she thought.

She shrugged and passed him. She didn’t know then that this person would plague her mind for the following nine years.

Their meetings from then on had been sporadic and they rarely exchanged more than a couple words. Still, Roy had become shadow she was used to in her house. She stopped being surprised to find him huddled in her father’s office reading quietly.

When her mother had passed, though, things had changed.

Professor Hawkeye became more withdrawn. The doors to his study would almost always be closed. He took all his meals at his desk and rarely made conversation with Roy, let alone Riza.

Roy had provided comfort during that time.

She liked to bug him about his slow academic progress but sometimes, when her father got too caught up in his own mind, she would sit with Roy in the kitchen and he would tell her about what he was learning.

The complicated matrices of alchemy were a welcomed distraction to the mansion that stood in shambles and the gravestone it guarded.

She had found his eyes welcoming back then. His entire being open and excitable. He’d make a snide remark, even flirt a little, and she would be reminded of what it was like to look at a real human being. Not the shell of one her father had become.

More than once she caught herself wanting to tell Roy about the secret her father had made out of her. How he spent long hours poring over her back immortalizing his work onto her skin. She wondered what Roy’s eyes would look like if he ever found out.

She shook her the idea out of her head.

Riza remembers the day he gave her his name card. A soldier working his way through the ranks. The day he said he would find a place for her if she ever felt lost. The funeral had marred the day with sadness and yet Riza remembered her heart lifting as she took what he offered her. It was nice that he had offered to organize the funeral too. God knows there was nothing left in the Hawkeye bank account but debt and disarray. It had been even nicer of him to quietly watch over her, never knowing that this had been her father’s final wish.

He hadn’t become a state alchemist at the time. And yet, when she looked at him all she saw wide eyed hunger for knowledge and change.

Roy Mustang wanted to change the world.

It had been an accident, that he let his plans slip. He shouldn’t have told her, he knew it. Wide eyes optimism seemed silly. But he got caught up in the moment and the feeling of his mentor’s bones calling out to him from the grave begging for relief had forced him to open his mouth.

She had let her secret slip then too.

The secret that her father had entrusted her with a coded Transmutation Array branded on her back. She wanted the world to be better, she realized. She wanted the world to be safer. So that no child had to grow up without a mother, and so that every kid would have someone to reach out to if their ever distant father grew more tiresome.

He had made up his mind, he was going to be a good solider. He used the knowledge she had imparted to him and began to learn.

Countless days he spent hovering over her naked back copying the symbols into his notebook, muttering to himself. His touch had always been soft and his eyes always full of wonder as he looked at the markings. Never once did he let his confusing get the better of him. And he always made sure to thank Riza for her sacrifice, for baring herself to him and trusting him.

He must have known somehow that he was all she had left. A last comfort in a comfortless world.

She made him swear to take her secrets to his grave. She didn’t understand why her father had burned his entire research before he passed but she would not be one to disobey him, even in death. If he wanted the research private, then it would remain that way. For eternity.

Now Roy tried to carry the burden with her and went to make a difference.

It took him three years to pass the State Alchemist certification exam and with it he earned the title Major. Change was long overdue.

So she went to war with him.

It turns out years of good humoured can shooting in the backyard and kicking it with the local street urchins were enough foundation for a good soldier to be built upon.

And a good solider she was. No one could ever tell Riza Hawkeye that she wasn’t committed.

She took the parts of herself that her father had shunned, the wide-eyed lost look that longed for love, and buried them deep within her. In its stead she took her rifle firmly and never missed a shot. Riza was strong now. They didn’t call her The Hawk’s Eye for nothing.

‘Life’s a whole lot easier if you’ve got someone watching your six.’ Maes Hughes had said to Roy.

He had been right. Major Hughes was often right, though Roy would never admit it. And Riza always had his back.

The things they did in Ishval…

The crimes they committed there…

It was unspeakable.

Riza will never forget the smell of burning skin and the Major’s eyes as he forced himself to watch.

No one was surprised when the troops (the ones that survived that is) came back with PTSD and fever dreams.

Riza found herself washing her hands, trying to scrape off the blood she had spilled, so often that her hands had permanent calluses and the skin was always red and dry.

The person Ishval had turned her into… that wasn’t what she joined the military for. This wasn’t what she wanted…

Looking in the mirror all she saw was a woman with sunken in cheeks, bags under her eyes and a short haircut that should have been efficient but now only reminded her if her time at war. She had only been a cadet, god damn it. Graduating from the academy with what?! A diploma and body count in the hundreds?

So young to have seen such chaos.

The alchemic secrets branded into her back felt heavier than ever.

But Riza Hawkeye was strong now.

So she grew her hair out. Never again would she look in the mirror and look like the person she had been. She ate better, forced herself to rest more. Eventually her cheeks filled out and her skin gained colour. The tiredness though, that never really passed. Not truly. The days she was plagued by nightmares, most nights really, she recounted Roy’s goals. His plan for protecting the people and the country.

Had it been foolish of her to believe him?

Could she still trust in him after watching him burn an entire country off the map? He had been following orders… and so had she…

Her thoughts were still clouded when she called on him. He picked up on the second ring, his voice rough.

‘Hello?’

‘Major Mustang…’ She hesitated, not sure how to continue or what to say. Why had she called him again?

‘Hawkeye. It’s midnight.’ He knew. He always knew.

A pause. Neither of them continue.

Perhaps they are both thinking about the last time they spoke.

They had been standing in front of the graves of children. Children that they had slaughtered. She had asked him what had happened, what had changed? How could he have convinced her to follow him into the military with a speech of grandeur and change when all she had gotten was death and decay?

He takes a breath and takes one for the team.

‘I could use some company, Hawkeye. What do you say?’

Her yes is shaky at best. It’s the first of many times he masks his desire to help her as his own weakness. It’s the first of many times that she chooses to ignore it and agree.

When he shows up to her apartment he’s dressed casually. Any other woman would have fanned herself at the white shirt, black slacked gentleman leaning against the doorframe. Major Mustang was handsome and found the company of women a-plenty. But today he looked tired.

He always looks tired. Riza thought to herself. We all do.

He makes no comment regarding her apartment. She had been left a dowry by her mother, it wasn’t much, not enough to cover the rent of even a shoebox apartment. This one had been left to her by a distant aunt that had wanted to spite her own kids. Riza hadn’t known her well, nor had she really cared. But she took the apartment nonetheless.

He stands stiffly in the middle of her living room, his eyes cast towards the dark window.

‘Can’t sleep, Major?’ Riza has her back facing him, keeping her hands busy by making tea.

‘I’m sure you know the feeling.’

Her hands pause but her silence is evidence enough.

‘Would you like some tea?’

She brings over the kettle on a tray with two teacups. Pouring, she focuses on the task at hand.

He searches her face.

‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’

Her movements halt as she re-examines her intentions. She pushes the teacup towards him and strengthens her resolve.

‘You made me a promise.’

He is silent, unmoving.

‘When we stood in the ruins of Ishval, you made me a promise.’ She goes on. ‘No more flame alchemists can exist. No one should be given access to such power again.’

Her words are firm. His tea is untouched.

The implication of her statement is clear. I will never see this power abused the way it has been ever again.

‘Think about what you’re asking.’ His words are quiet but they stand as firm as hers.

‘I know what I’m asking.’

‘I don’t think you do.’

Her voice rises. ‘To destroy evidence of alchemic research is - ’

‘No! Think of what it would do to you!’

Roy clenches his fists in his lap, he looks at her incredulously. ‘You’re asking me to disfigure you. To hurt you simply to make information inaccessible. It’s…’ He hesitates. ‘It’s not good enough.’

The betrayal is clear on Riza’s face.

‘You swore to me that you would do this. You promised that all evidence of flame alchemic research would be destroyed.’ Her look turns accusing. ‘Is this the second promise you will break to me?’

Something inside Roy wavers. He felt his heart stop and the full consequence and destruction he had caused in Riza’s life becomes clear to him. She followed him into the military. She followed him into war. No amount of good intention could revive the parts of their humanity they had lost fighting for Amestris.

His voice is small. ‘Don’t make me do this.’

But she can’t give in.

‘Please don’t make me hurt you too.’

‘You promised.’

Their eyes bore into each other. Neither seem to be breathing.

Not until –

Not until she breaks.

‘Please.’ Her voice barely a whisper. Tears welling but her eyes hold his. ‘Set me free.’

He comes undone. He owes her this. He owes her – everything, everything he could ever give.

And so she stands in front of him, shirt on the floor, arms wrapped around her torso as if she could hide her vulnerability.

The markings on her back look the same as they had when he had first studied them. The back they laid on was stronger though, the muscles more tight, the skin seemed thinner as if time had eroded its previous youthful glow.

Her face is angled over her shoulder but she doesn’t look at him.

‘Hawkeye…’

‘Do it.’ She insists.

He drew a haphazard transmutation circle on the back of his hand with a marker she dug up in her kitchen. The entire time she had been quiet, quietly getting the marker, quietly arranging herself in front of the heater unbuttoning her blouse. Before he could stop himself his fingertips brushed against the tattoos. The markings he had studied for hours, he hadn’t realized how much they weighed on her. They had given him freedom, power even, but for Riza it seems they had always been a burden.

Set me free. She had begged him.

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s barely a whisper. His fingers are fanned over her shoulder blade. He wills the heat to spread through his joints all the way to the tips of his fingers and out. He feels the heat of his alchemy connect with her skin and attempts, as gently and with as much control as he can muster, to penetrate only the surface of her back. To scar her markings but leave her as uninjured as possible.

She tenses with pain, her fingers claw into her sides as she suppressed a whimper. The heat moves downwards singeing anything it passed He manages to burn through the top left part of the Array before he needs to turn his back on her. The smell of burnt flesh, the sizzling of her skin under his hand - it reminds him too much of the battlefield. What is he doing?! His stomach turns and it takes all of his willpower to not vomit on her carpet. If he could cut his hand off then and there, he would.

Her breath is frantic, her face tear stained.

‘Go on.’ She chokes out.

He turns and hesitates, he can see her strength draining as the pain takes over. There are few things worse than second degree burns.

‘Riza…’

‘Do it!’

Free me!

He needs to close his eyes this time but manages to put his hand on the right side of the small of her back. He starts the process over. He’s praying to any and all gods that he’s not inflicting irreparable damage. They both don’t last too much longer before the pain is unbearable and his flashbacks get too strong. By the time he’s finished there are tears running down his face and gall riding up his throat.

With shaking hands he moves towards her, meaning to provide some kind of comforting touch but hesitates. She must only see him as destruction now. Even more than before.

Still, his instincts kick in as her knees buckle, he grabs her by the arms. She’s out like a light, her breathing is labored and heavy. He attempts to move his arms around her stomach, trying to find the most comfortable position for her and a way for the burns to remain untouched.

He thinks that she would hate to be seen in such an exposed state so he grabs the shirt she had dropped and gently places it over her chest.

They should have prepared better for this, he thinks to himself. They hadn’t prepared water, ointment or any means to alleviate pain. Although the last, he guessed, had been on purpose. Riza Hawkeye would always endure. She probably felt like she deserved to feel this pain. That this was the least she had to suffer to atone for what she had done in Ishval.

His attempts to move her to the bedroom where she could lay out her pain were complicated. He feels drained by what he just experienced and Riza’s body is hard to hold on to without agitating the burns further. He ends up gently holding her at the top of the shoulders and under the knees. An adjusted bridal position so to say. Not that he would ever tell her that, she might pull out her Glock just for mentioning marriage.

He manages to open the bedroom door with his elbow and almost trips as a black Shiba jumps to its feet having curled up in front of it.

‘Woah boy.’ Mustang adjusts his arms, attempting to move as little as possible. This friend was one Roy had never met before.

Black Hayate, Riza’s most recent companion of comfort, whines as he sees his owner unresponsive and follows Roy as he steps towards the bed.

He lays her on her side as softly as possible and moves her so that she is laying in the recovery position. This would alleviate any risk of further aggravating her injuries. Black Hayate jumped on the bed and padded over to his master. His expression one of confusion and hurt.

‘She can’t hear you right now.’ Mustang said quietly. ‘She needs to rest.’

Black Hayate runs his nose along Riza’s back, carefully taking in the changes. His whining continues as the smell of blood and singed skin fills the room.

Roy goes to open a window. The wind blows into the room in soft streams. It’s a cold wind though, one that would bite if it were only slightly stronger. Unconsciously, he slides down the wall and sits under the window, his eyes never leaving Riza.

Her breathing was shallow but the tears on her face had dried. The tracks they left behind were a stark contrast against the white of her skin. Riza never cries.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He rubs the tears out of his eyes, unwilling to lose his composure in front of Hawkeye whether she was conscious or not.

Desiring to undo the hurt he inflicted on her, he goes searching for ointment in the bathroom. He finds something similar enough to burn cream and forces himself to look at every single pattern he burned into her skin. The skin is charred and red, raw and open. Just like Riza, this was his atonement. His atonement for the sins he committed against her.

He follows the new marks on her skin and carefully applies the cream, pausing every time her body so much as twitched.

‘Are you free now?’ There was no use asking her, she couldn’t answer, but he had to anyway. Had this changed anything?

He thinks back to their times at the Hawkeye estate. He had spent countless years sharing the space with her. And then when he went to Ishval, she had been there too. His formative years had the red string of Riza Hawkeye running through them.

He knew that Riza had always felt tied down by the duty of her father. Had always succumbed to the Professor’s greatest needs, ignoring her own. The world of flame alchemy was carried on her shoulders alone. Not even Roy, who was a Flame Alchemist, could alleviate that.

He didn’t know if she found peace in her wounds. He hoped she did. It was the least that she deserved.

God, he wanted so badly to set her free. He hated that it had to come at the cost of her wellbeing.

A tiny voice inside him moaned I need you to be well. I need you to be safe. But as he always did, he kept his thoughts to himself, pushed them down until they were only a faint whisper.

Sitting at her back allowed him time to mull over exactly how he had been talked into mutilating the one person he insisted he would protect.

He had sworn such an oath to himself long before Professor Hawkeye had even brought it up. He could always use the professor as an excuse but he knew deep inside that he decided he was going to look out for Miz Hawkeye the second she made fun of him for standing in front of that boiling pot of water.

The memories came flooding back as if they had only just happened. Terse smiles exchanged in the hallway, a blanked laid over his shoulders as he fell asleep on his text book again, coffee strong enough for both of them to withstand the withering looks of the professor. Silent laughs at the kitchen counter, plenty of meals shared and stories told.

A fist clenched around his heart.

The memories became tarnished with darkness. The look on her face after she killed her first civilians, her head on his shoulder when exhaustion got the better of her, the way she’d snatch up the leftover sausages from his rations – the only semblance of joy she found in her time abroad. (She never knew he always saved them for her.)

They kept coming, the memories. And the pillow he was leaning against felt softer and softer. His mind clouded and the last thing he thought of before giving into the tendrils of darkness was blonde hair, quit wit and the smell of sausages.

They never spoke of that night again.

She served him coffee in the morning. French press, no milk. Just the way he liked it.

Their conversation was as minimal as her movements. She wore a t-shirt that went down to her knees and barely moved an inch.

Mustang spared a thought to the owner of the shirt, thinking it must be a man’s.

Then they say their good-byes and she closes the door as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Major Mustang was promoted for his heroic deeds in Ishval, he went by Lieutenant Colonel Mustang from then on and he had a new dream.

He had wanted to strengthen the government only to protect the people he loved. Clearly, that was no longer an option. As Professor Hawkeye had said, military lapdogs account for little change in the world – that cycle needed to be stopped. So Mustang reevaluated his desire and adapted it.

If he couldn’t protect his people by joining the military, he would protect them by leading it.

Who was going to oppose the Fuhrer?

No one.

Well, no one but him.

Ordered to Central City, Mustang accumulated a motley crew of wacky but loyal subordinates. He even called upon Hawkeye. Although she had once confessed she wished to retire, her thoughts were too filled with carnage and tragedy to find anything resembling rest.

He appointed her his personal aide and bodyguard.

He looked at her from behind his new desk as he proposed his plan.

‘Do you accept my offer?’

To stand behind you and fight, finally actually fight, for the right thing? To strike you down should you ever so much as waver?

She barely spared it a thought.

‘Of course I do, sir.’

She vowed. ‘I’ll follow you into hell if you ask me to.’

You already have. He thought.

Time brought about another promotion and plenty of trouble. People might say they had countless adventures since joining forces but the truth was both Lieutenant Major Mustang and 2nd Lieutenant Hawkeye walked a painful path.

Together they saw the aftermath of a Human Transmutation attempt and two orphans too lost to find their way. The little Rockbell girl, a name familiar to Mustang, had asked why anyone would join such an institution. Why the only people she had left to love should.

Hawkeye’s answer had been simple.

Because there are many ways you protect those you love and that was one of them.

Though she would never admit what love she was protecting, even when that love walked into the room and told her their time was up.

Within a year, the duo had been promoted and Maes Hughes had been murdered.

It was quite a picture, the Colonel with his hair pushed back, dressed in mourning.

1st Lieutenant Hawkeye stood at the grave and watched as her Colonel grieved.

It was the first time she had seen such emotion burst forth from him. He rarely talked about his past but when he did it was always with quick wit or in a cold matter-of-fact way. Maes Huges though… Colonel Mustang spoke plenty of Maes Hughes.

And how annoying his constant chatter was.

And how frustrating his cowardice was.

And how much he believed in the good of the world.

And how pure his heart was.

How much he loved his family.

‘Alchemists as a whole - we really are horrible creatures, aren’t we?’

His voice cracks. She has no answer.

‘I think I understand what drove those boys when they tried to bring back their mother.’

She couldn’t stop herself, not when he was hurting like this.

‘Are you alright, Colonel?’ A dumb question really.

He positions his hat, pulls it down over his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ His voice is low, it’s barely a croak. ‘Except, it’s a terrible day for rain.’

Confused she answers: ‘What do you mean? It’s not raining.’

Only then does she notice the tear tracks on his face and his lips pressed tightly together. There’s a hurt in her heart that she can’t quite place and a quiet sadness in her inability to alleviate his suffering.

‘Yes, it is.’

All she can say is: ‘So it is.’

Her Barry the Chopper encounter leaves Hawkeye more shaken up than she would like to admit.

It had been funny for a second, her heart may even have skipped a beat, as the Colonel’s face turned icy when the armour had called her ‘toots’ and he muttered ‘Stand aside, Lieutenant. There’s going to be a fire tonight.’

She never needed his protection anyway, he reckoned. But he’d offer it just for showmanship’s sake.

Just in case.

His comfort though… he always knew when she needed that.

She had excused herself early from their re-con session, he saw her eyes were downcast.

He called that night and she pretended to be surprised. He wafted on about Madam Christmas’ hostess bar, whiskey and wine.

She was content to listen to him. It distracted her from the feeling of impending doom, a feeling that was eerily familiar (Ishval, perhaps?). More souls connected to suits of armour meant more transmutation, more experiments, more evil.

‘These ladies won’t leave me alone, Hawkeye.’

He smiles ruefully, his complaint giving her a chance to jab at him.

‘I’m sure once they hear you speak, they will feel plenty deterred, Colonel.’ Her bland answer is an indication that she feels slightly better.

‘…Hawekeye…’ He whines.

He pushes away the thought of cracking another joke, instead his tone turns serious.

‘I will always be right in front of you.’

He hears her breath hitch, just for a moment.

‘If you ever feel lost, just follow my voice. I won’t lead you astray. I will always be right here.’

Time passes too quickly. The Colonel fakes Ross’ death, his team have their first encounter with Gluttony and Barry the Chopper decides to have a mind of his own. It is at that point that they met Lust and for the first time both of our soldiers needed to admit to themselves, quietly, that they could not live without the other.

‘Now, where was I?’ Lust croons. ‘I was about to send the Lieutenant to join her superior.’

The words hit Hawkeye like a ton of bricks. Her heart stops. Her head feels heavy.

‘It can’t be… You didn’t!’

One monstrous smile later and through a curse Hawkeye releases three full rounds into the demon’s chest. It doesn’t make a difference though. The woman regenerates in a flurry of red static and a hopelessness takes the place of the anger Hawkeye was feeling.

Tears run down her cheeks as the full meaning of Lust’s words finally sink in.

Strength leaves her body, Hawkeye sinks to the floor, inconsolable.

The day Mustang had thought would never come arrived. His Lieutenant was on her knees sobbing. No prompts from Alphonse could halt her. She felt the same dread that Mustang had felt mere minutes ago cauterizing Havoc’s wound, carving a Transmutation Circle into his hand.

Only now, for him, it was infinitely worse.

He, under no circumstances, could watch the people he loved die before him.

Especially not his Lieutenant.

‘You told me I couldn’t kill you but I’d like to try and prove you wrong.’ He spat at the Homunculus.

He lit the flint of the lighter to scorch the creature alive, payback for every second of pain she inflicted on his Lieutenant. It wasn’t enough. There was not enough pain in the world for this beast to endure as punishment for making Hawkeye cry.

The fire in his stomach still roared but the battle was over quickly.

‘I love how cold and focused your eyes are.’ The eery sound of her voice carried as Lust disintegrated before him. ‘I look forward…to the day when those eyes will be wide with agony.

It’s coming….

It’s coming…’

The welcoming eyes Hawkeye had once seen in her family’s kitchen were gone and replaced with cold, hard fury and torment.

Had time finally broken him?

It seems as time passed their burden only became heavier.

When Mustang woke up in the hospital, his was the only bed occupied. The one next to it was empty. The only other figure in the room was Lieutenant Hawkeye who had her arms curled around her head, leaning on his mattress from an uncomfortable looking chair.

He took a moment to steady himself.

This is fine. He told himself. This is okay. She is okay.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his side. Lifting the blanket, he saw his lower torso was wrapped in bandages, as was his right hand.

More scars to add to the collection.

‘Sir.’ He must have woken her by shifting the covers. ‘You’re awake.’

‘So are you.’

She straightened. ‘They took you in for emergency treatment. Your wound… they said they’ve never seen anything like it. It was like you had been pierced by sharpened rods…’

‘What about Havoc?’

‘He is still in surgery.’

She doesn’t seem confident. ‘There’s no word yet.’

Mustang grinds his teeth in frustration but keeps his qualms to himself. He spares her a glance which only makes him feel worse. Her eyes are sunken in, she’s wearing the same clothes as she had during the mission, the faint smell of burnt skin hangs around her.

He can only think of one way to help her. She hates vulnerability, she hates seeming weak and he knows she needs to regroup after the ordeal they just lived through. Wash off any embarrassment she may be feeling.

‘Go home, Lieutenant.’

She doesn’t move.

‘Lieutenant – ’

‘I told you I would follow you into hell.’

He expects the look she gives him to be hard and accusing but all he sees is helplessness .

‘I meant it.’ She vows.

‘I just didn’t think there would ever be a place where I couldn’t follow.’ Her hands are clenched in her lap. She avoids his gaze. ‘When Lust said she had killed you…I thought I lost my mind.’

Tears blur her vision.

‘I can’t do this without you.’ It’s just about a whisper.

He encloses her hand with his gently and looks at her face even though she is still avoiding his.

‘You’ll never have to.’ He promises. ‘Whatever we do, whatever we achieve or don’t achieve, we will do it together.’

He bows his head slightly to get a better look at her.

‘I told you, I will always be right in front of you.’

She can’t stop the tears from falling.

‘Lieutenant Hawkeye of Central City, I order you to always stand directly behind me. I order you to always stay by my side and never leave my line of sight.’

She gives a terse nod and tightens her hand around his ever so slightly.

‘Yes, sir.’

Not many Homunculi remained. Gluttony, Wrath and Pride were the ones left standing. Though the latter two were still unknown.

They managed to foil an attempt by Gluttony. Everything seemed under control. Until.. until Colonel Mustang let’s a rumour slip that Fuhrer Bradley may be a homunculus and suddenly everything became much clearer.

Ushered into a room full of high ranking military officials, none batted an eye when Bradley turned looking like the most sinister man ever to walk the earth.

Turns out it doesn’t take more than a quick joke to find your allies and force your enemies to go looking for you.

Fuhrer Bradley showed up at the Colonel’s office the very next day. He explained that the Homunculi had been scheming since Amestris had been put on the map and they weren’t about to let one nosy Colonel destroy their lifelong goal now.

‘How would your son react if he knew his father was secretly a Homunculus fueled by the death of others?’

‘It may serve you better to guard your own weaknesses, Colonel Mustang. Else you might find yourself an army of one. It is difficult to fight a war when you have no subordinates to support you. Even if you are an alchemist.’

Bradley’s look hadn’t been dark or dangerous, his expression had always been one of pleasant imposition, nevertheless the threat had been very clear.

‘Your Lieutenant, she seems bright and talented. She was a good choice to send to the front lines.’

Mustang said nothing, he eyes only narrowed on the Fuhrer.

‘I have decided to make her my own personal assistant. I could use someone like her in my office.’

No!

‘Hawkeye has nothing to do with this.’

‘She doesn’t need to. She is your closest confidant and most loyal follower.’

There was no denying that.

Their eyes meet.

‘Consider this a warning. A hostage situation is always precarious. It would be a shame if Lieutenant Hawkeye were caught in a cross-fire.’

That was the day Mustang decided he was going to kill Fuhrer Bradley, Wrath – whatever his name was/

For threatening his Lieutenant, Bradley was going to pay.

Hawkeye was surprised when she opened her door to find Edward Elric standing there. He had come to return the pistol from his encounter with Scar. Given his experience with alchemic canon launchers, it seemed a little amusing that he held a small gun with such trepidation but Hawkeye made no comment.

She served him tea and waited.

He didn’t say anything at first, only watched her take apart her weapon and clean in skillfully.

Then he asked about Ishval.

What could she say?

Crimes were committed, ledgers painted red and no one walked away unharmed. Even those that did manage to survive.

There is something to be said about being the person that holds power the way a sniper does. That no shot ever misses its target. Ordinary battalion soldiers, they got to inflict their pain and walk away without watching the suffering they leave behind. But no sniper could turn away from their magnifying glass fast enough to avoid watching their victim fall.

It doesn’t matter. Is what she told him. Whether Colonel Mustang or she survived this ordeal didn’t matter. Whether they get imprisoned for the massacre they took part in didn’t matter. What mattered was the future of Amestris and the democracy it needed to thrive.

Colonel Mustang wanted to be the Fuhrer to change this world for the better. But he was very aware that as soon he did make those changes, they may affect him as well. Signing an order to bring peace to the Ishvalan conflict was what needed to be done. And after all, they had taken part in the war. They deserved to pay for the damage they had caused.

She thinks for a moment how young the boy is sitting in front of her and how he has had to fight a war as well. There was nothing she could do to alleviate the weight he carried, finding his place in the world and saving his brother was not something she could assist him with. So instead she listened. He told her about his fears and how he felt useless.

A great sorrow overcame her as she watched this boy, really nothing but a boy, face death over and over again and never shy away.

There’s something of the Colonel in him. She thinks quietly, screwing her gun back together.

‘You’re just dwelling on this stuff because you made it back alive. You need to focus on living.’

He looked solemn.

‘That’s how you protect her.’

That’s how you protect them all.

Roy Mustang had an itch. Not a physical itch, an emotional one… a metaphysical one. Like something bad was about to happen but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

The cart of flowers he bought were pretty. Expensive but pretty. It didn’t scratch his itch. There, at the back of his neck his hair stood upright because he felt something.

He followed his instinct to a phonebooth and tried his best not to think about Hughes while he picked up the receiver.

He did what he always did when he called his Lieutenant, he cracked a joke and hoped it would cover up his sense of dread.

‘Hello there, Madam. It’s your friendly neighbourhood florist.’

He hears her let out a breath she was holding and even though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was pinched. She had expected something worse.

The itch went away. A serious note enters his voice.

‘…do me a favour and take some off my hands?’

The tiniest of sighs escapes her lips. It’s enough for him to know. The moment of humour passes immediately. It is replaced with worry.

‘What’s wrong?’

No answer.

‘Did something happen?’

Her reply is a small ‘No, sir.’ And she knows he doesn’t believe her. ‘It’s nothing.’

A beat.

‘Are you sure?’ Tell me.

Her voice is monotonous. ‘Yes, sir. Everything’s fine.’

There is no use prodding her. He knows his Lieutenant well enough to avoid aggravating her further.

He pretends to buy her weak excuse of not owning a flower vase to turn down the flowers and hangs up when she bids him good-night.

Walking off his buzz, he keeps two bunches of flowers and gives the rest away. One he brings to Major General Armstrong, the second he leaves in front of Hawkeye’s door. Not even his buzz would stop him from remembering to check on her the next day.

The office seemed bigger and emptier without Hawkeye. Her presence had unknowingly filled up the space and now it felt wrong. The colleagues he had left, the ones that Wrath hadn’t banished to faraway places, all seemed downcast. As if they knew the end was near. As if they were losing their fight.

His office demeanor hadn’t changed. Perhaps it should have but he refused to replace his Lieutenant because he would not accept that it was a permanent change. Instead, he grovelled with his superiors and charmed them into giving him more time. And boy, did he use every second of it.

Working through meals had become staple.

But again, he told himself, it was not permanent.

His breathing felt a little easier when he spotted her in the cafeteria. Even sitting across from her, to see that she was alive, for now it would be enough.

He makes note of a healing cut on her cheek and sees the red marks on her wrists. If she sees him notice, she does not react.

She had always known how to wax on about things. Her undercover operations were infamous in their, his, office. She could talk her way out of anything. It was nice to hear her talk.

He listened, appearing distracted with his fountain pen, but paid close attention. He stops mid-bite when she tapped her mug against the table twice.

Listen. Up. It said.

All those days holed up on stake outs with nothing to do to pass the time helped them adapt their own form of Morse Code. It had been several years now since they had actively used it but every now and again it came in handy. His eyes met hers, he tapped his fountain pen twice.

I’m. Ready.

She recounted a bizarre story of former cadets that she grew up with, ones that were stationed out North and who knows where else. A girl name Sugar was included and other details that made for a funny tale.

In a locked bathroom stall, later, he decodes her message, he wishes he his hunch had been wrong. But he had felt it coming.

SELIM BRADLEY IS HOMONCULUS

Mustang held the burning note over the toilet and watched as his only lead turned to ash. The marks on Hawkeye’s skin made more sense now. She had run into the original Homunculus.

There were no words that could accurately describe the dread that Mustang felt when he saw his Lieutenant in a headlock. The man holding her wielded a duelling sword, his shoulder pressed against the wound in her shoulder.

‘I will not be your puppet. Do it yourself!’ He spat his words that the crazed lackey professor.

He had said the wrong thing.

The words the professor said barely reached him, Mustang had his eyes on Hawkeye the entire time. The split second they darted away, all he saw was blood and all he heard was the sound of a clean cut. Metal on skin. They had slit her throat.

He went wild.

‘Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Lieutenant!’ Pure agony filled his voice. He struggled against his hold.

‘What do say you, Mustang?’

He spat his words at the psycho, fighting the guards with every molecule in his body. ‘I’LL KILL YOU!’

‘Perform the transmutation and become the fifth sacrifice.’ That was what they ordered him to do.

The professor kept talking but none of it registered. His eyes were only on Hawkeye who was lying on the ground, hair spilled around her, her hand on her neck trying to stop the steady pool of blood growing around her.

‘I’m not gonna die.’

She’s still alive! His heart sings.

‘What you don’t know is…’ her breath is staggered ‘is that I’m under strict orders… not to die.’

The blood continued to leak from her wound, he saw her consciousness fade and the light in her eyes dim.

Your woman. That is what the professor had said when he taunted Mustang. His woman.

He ran the scenario in his head. How much sacrifice was too much to make the world a better place? Was one philosopher’s stone, that has already been created by people no longer in this world, so repulsive in its nature that it had to be shunned – even if it could save the one person that mattered? The one person he loved?

Only once before had he considered using human transmutation and back then it had been a pipe dream, a fantasy to bring back someone he missed dearly and knew he could live without but did not want to. This time … he was serious. He would not …. No, he could not live without his Lieutenant.

The only thing stopping him is her quiet beg. ‘Colonel, please.’ She shivers. ‘You don’t have to do this. Don’t sacrifice everything for my sake.’

The world be damned, none of the change he wanted mattered if he couldn’t experience it with her.

Her eyes are focused now, staring at him, right into his soul. Begging him to follow her order just this once. Until her look turns upwards. A signal.

‘Alright.’

A beat. Hawkeye fell weaker and the professor smiles wickedly.

‘Alright, Lieutenant.’ He holds her gaze and says with full confidence ‘I won’t perform the transmutation.’

Mei and others who Mustang can’t bring himself to care about hijack the professors plan and help him take down the pawns.

He runs towards the Lieutenant with all his might barely pausing to snap his fingers igniting the man that steps in his way.

He begs her to open her eyes turning her face towards him. He feels the weakness in her body, how her limbs have almost gone limp. He doesn’t even notice the solider coming at him with a sword. His eyes stay on Hawkeye the entire time. If they die, they die together.

‘Don’t you dare die! Stay with me Lieutenant!’ Please. He begs silently.

The little girl runs over intent on helping. She has Mustang lay down the Lieutenant as she draws an alkahestry circle in blood and slams kunai into the junctures. Mei lays her hands on the ground and a moment later the entire circle glows with blue electricity. Mustang can see the wound on Hawkeye’s neck clotting as the muscles get bound back together. The glow fades and for a moment nothing happens.

Then Hawkeye stirs.

He grabs her by the arms and pulls her into his chest. His breathing is as shallow as hers and he can’t stop himself from closing his eyes and laying his head on hers, just for a moment. He thanks the gods, the almighty and whoever else may be worthy for sending Mei to Central City. For saving his Lieutenant, he would be indebted to her for the rest of his life.

Mei watches the pair with fascination. They didn’t seem to realize that the battle was still waging around them. All they could see was each other, all they could feel was the other.

‘Colonel…I’m… so sorry..’

‘No, don’t speak. Just rest now.’

‘You understood my signal…I’m not sure how…but I’m glad.’

In spite of their situation, he smiles. ‘We’ve been together long enough.’

The thought warms his heart. He feels such a sense of relief, he can’t help but made a joke.

‘And besides, I know that glare. It means ‘use human transmutation and I’ll shoot you.’

He brings her to her feet and gives out thanks just as Fuhrer Bradley shows up.

A single glance in Hawkeye’s direction has Mustang tightening his grip on her shoulder.

Nothing the Fuhrer says has any impact because Mustang has found his purpose again. He has people behind him that stop him from being reckless now, people that keep him heading down the right path.

Wrath’s compliments are wrapped with venom. Mustang thinks this has got to end soon, he feels Hawkeye’s knees giving out. He’s bearing most of her weight now.

Gently, he passes her to a companion with the intention of facing Pride himself. The horrible creature that radiated darkness stood silently in front of the group by the person that was allegedly its father.

Before he could make a move though Wrath jumps at him. His alchemy misses its target and he is pushed to the ground with Wrath’s knee on his chest and his swords impaling his hands.

The sight of the swords running through his palms is almost as horrifying as Hawkeye’s scream.

What happened next compared to nothing they had ever seen before. Not Ishval, not fighting homunculi, nothing. The group watched as Pride murdered their own subordinate and used him and its shadows to create an alchemic human transmutation circle. With his hands pinned down, Roy Mustang was forced to become the fifth sacrifice

Wrath walked from the circle as if he was walking in a park and only briefly stopped to wonder ‘What will be taken from you, Roy Mustang?’

Roy woke up in an endless white room in front of a being that was made of static while simultaneously also made of nothing at all. It emitted powerful energy and though it had no eyes, Roy had the distinct feeling of being watched.

‘So you have discovered the Portal.’

The voice that spoke was eery. As if thousands of voices were combined to speak through one vessel that didn’t move at all. It cocked its head as if it were looking at a new toy.

‘And you have discovered the Truth.’

The Truth?

‘You intend to leave here alive.’

It was uncanny, the being that was sitting cross legged in front of him. Creepy even. Roy felt like his heart was being read right out of his chest.

‘You think you have a world to build. You think you are worthy of inflicting change.’

The creature unsettled something deep within him. It seemed unhinged and otherworldly.

‘What is your payment?’

Payment?

‘To open the Gate, payment must be received. Thus is the law of Equivalent Exchange.’

Roy said nothing. This was jarring. It all made sense now. The laws of equivalent exchange came from the alchemic transference in the almighty realm. The thing that was sitting in front of him… was God. For having trespassed into its territory, an alchemist must pay to repent for the greatest sin ever committed that would bring him to such heights. Human transmutation. A great deal of knowledge flooded through Roy as he felt the being look at him, waiting.

‘So being pulled through the Gate grants alchemists the ability to perform alchemy without the usual means of transmutation in exchange for a toll.’

The being smiles, revealing a set of largely comic teeth.

‘Edward paid with his limbs.’

The smile grows.

‘Alphonse paid with his body.’

‘What will you pay?’ The voices echoed through the whiteness.

Silence.

‘Will you sacrifice your vision?’

‘My vision?’

Roy thought about his goal, the world he wanted to create, foster and protect. His vision of a better future.

Impatience rang through the room, though how Roy wasn’t sure.

‘Time is up.’ The voice said. ‘Will you keep your vision even if you lose your sight?’

The rest of the battle is black. The person the Homunculi called Father is unknown to him, he only remembers the voice of the monster that inflicted so much damage. Calm, cool and collected. Disgusting.

Sig Curtis helps him step from the moving stone. He can’t see the sunlight but he feels the heat on his face.

‘Colonel!’

Relief floods his chest.

He bends down towards Hawkeye’s voice, a hand moves unconsciously in front of his eyes as if he would be able to see the movement. He feels her hand hover near his.

He can’t place her face so he keeps his eyes averted.

‘Colonel, are you injured? What’s wrong?’

Her voice is closer, she must be kneeling in front of him.

For one single second he allows grief to overcome him for what he has lost.

‘My sight is gone.’

She gasps, her mouth agog.

He pushes down any and all emotions. ‘Lieutenant, how are your injuries?’

He needs to make sure she is okay.

He hears her hold back a sob, he knows exactly what her face would look like.

‘Don’t think about me! Just worry about yourself for once!’ Her hand moves towards his eyes. ‘Your eyes…’ She sounds distraught, his eyes have grayed and they no longer shake with emotion.

‘Lieutenant.’ His voice is gruff, for a moment his hand hovers by hers. ‘Can you still fight?!’

This time her breath is not hesitant. Her resolve is clear.

‘Yes sir.’

The battle is a blur to everyone. Thinking back, he remembers Hawkeye at his back, her hands on his arm pointing him in the right direction.

He recalls thinking he’d like to have her stand this close by his side forever.

Everyone lost something that day. But many also received.

Edward lost his alchemy but as is always the case with equivalent exchange, he got something back that could only be considered comparable.

In the end, he found out he was not defined by his alchemic skill or even by the battle he won Amestris but by the love he had for his brother. Some love was so strong, it could endure even an almighty’s touch.

Alphonse Elrich returned to the living plane and reunited with his body. It would be a long time before he resembled anything close to ‘okay’ but he would get there in the end. He had his big brother and the family he found along the way. The first thing on his list was eating Winry’s apple pie and taking a good long nap.

That left our heroes, our star crossed lovers of the military. Elizabeth and her Mustang.

They both recovered, she more quickly than he, but performing human transmutation will do that to ya. Still, she never left his bedside.

When night had fallen after the battle, while Amestris still stood in shambles, Hawkeye had begged the doctors to let her stay by her Colonel’s side.

Her hospital bed was placed next to his. When he awoke after countless checks his gaze stayed towards the wall. They didn’t speak for a long time and only Hawkeye could see the moon shine through the window. It was quiet until…

‘I wish I could see your face, Lieutenant.’

He knows her better than anyone, so he knows she has tears in her eyes. Not from his comment, mostly from the ordeal they survived. Maybe a little from his comment.

‘I’ll help you get your sight back, Colonel. If it’s the last thing I do.’

‘Don’t bother.’

‘Sir!’

He hears her climb out of bed and feels her move towards him.

‘Stop.’ His word is quiet but it is final.

He reaches out in the direction he thinks she is standing and tries to find her hand.

‘I don’t need sight if I have vision. And I know what my vision is, was. I want to protect my people. You are the person I wanted to protect. If losing my eye sight means you get to live, then I will give it up a hundred times.’

A knot forms in her throat. He tugs gently until she’s sat on the edge of his bed.

‘Colonel…’

‘I may not be able to see anymore but we still have a lot of work to do, you understand? I’m going to need you right by my side throughout all of it.’

She shakes her head, her voice wavering. ‘I’ll never leave you.’

He smiles in her general direction. His hand runs up her arm until it finds her cheek.

‘Good. Because I can’t live with out you and I don’t plan to either.’

She leans into his touch.

This is fine. She thinks. Forever like this, is fine.

#bee writes #beewrites #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fic #for wendy #always for wendy

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halsinthebear · 5 years

Note

Plz write the parent teacher conference for Murray and his daughter(s)

Mr. Fields takes his glasses off and rubs his temples.

For the third time.

In 45 minutes.

Nancy was an utter delight and Robin was, well, really weird but harmless but then Murray fuckin’ Bauman made a reappearance in his estranged daughter’s life and somehow ended up taking in the Wheeler girl along the way.

“Mr. Bauman--”

“Please,” Murray holds his hands up. “Call me Murray. Mr. Bauman was my father.”

“Dad,” Robin says. “Grampygoo is still alive.”

Murray scoffs, kicking his feet up casually on Mr. Field’s desk. “Pfft. He’s, like, a hundred by now.”

“He’s going to be 72 in November.”

Murray shrugs at his daughter.

“Murray,” Mr. Fields restarts. “Your daughter and...uh...Nancy are both excelling in classes this semester.

“Yeah!” Murray enthuses. He takes his feet off the desk and instead puts both the girls in headlocks. “Love my girls!”

“But.”

“Oh, don’t rain on my parade!” He lets Robin and Nancy disentangle from his arms. “Don’t you ‘ass’ me!”

Mr. Fields is starting to burn with embarrassment now. “However! Robin turned in an essay into her social studies class titled ‘Fuck Off, Bougie Boy’. Granted, Miss Grossley did give her a 97% on it but--”

“But what? What was the essay about? C’mon, gimme the goods.”

“Sir, the language!”

Now Robin shrugs. “Miss Grossley said to write an essay on Karl Marx. She didn’t give us parameters on a title. See the coffee splat up top? She spit her coffee out when she read it!”

“You know why you don’t like it, Fieldy-Fields? Hmm? It’s ‘cause ya bougie.”

Mr. Fields huffs. “Sir! We are here to discuss Robin and Nancy’s performance in school! Not--not--!”

“Bougie!” Murray wags a finger in front of the man’s face. “You’re being bougie!”

“And Nancy!” Mr. Fields is doing his best to ignore Murray’s behavior and focus on the paperwork in front of him. “Nancy is actually eligible for the honor roll this year!”

“Hells to the yeah!” Murray enthuses, holding his hand up. “Up high, baby!”

Nancy misses the high five and Murray insists they redo it. Their palms collide with a deafening smack.

“As is Robin, however--”

“Both my girls!” Murray is almost levitating with pride. “Wait! You know what this means?”

Nancy and Robin both “hmm?”

“Ice cream!”

“Yes!”

“Whoo!”

“Sir!” Mr. Fields stands up as the three of them head towards the door. “I am not done! I wanted to discuss--”

“Listen, pally. Alls I care about is that my babies are on the honor roll and you need to quit teachin’ all this bougie propaganda.”

A pause.

“Baumans out!” Murray announces, arms up. Mr. Fields vaguely notices Murray is wearing cut-off shorts and a bathrobe, along with hiking sandals and a t-shirt for a campground out west.

“And Wheeler,” Nancy corrects.

Murray wraps his arms over Nancy’s shoulders. “You’re a Bauman now, baby.”

Mr. Fields doesn’t bother to stop them as they head out the door. He needs a drink, to be honest.

#murraybaeman #brandy writes shit

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tricklingstreamdacre · 6 years

Text

Bring It On; Steve Harrington x Reader [Summer Camp/IT Crossover AU]

STEVE HARRINGTON x READER

SUMMARY: Some losers from Maine and nerds for Hawkin’s are about to battle it out summer camp style. But the leaders seem a little more focused towards petty battles. Will it get in the way?

WARNINGS/NOTES: Swearing, you don’t need to have seen It (2017) to know what’s going on but you need to at least understand how the losers act.

REQUEST: “We’re both ‘team leaders’ at a summer camp for little people and you may be hot but goddammit my collection of twelve-year-olds are going to beat yours into the dust” with Steve and the losers gang on readers team?? PLZ

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

A/N: apart from the fact that nearly everything I seem to write comes back to B99 somehow let’s start this shit show.

AU WEEK: DAY ONE

AU WEEK REQUESTS OPEN

This was your second year of being a leader at a summer camp meant for kids.

You had arrived early, earlier than anticipated, you dumped your bags in your cabin and watched as people you’d never met slowly came in. You could understand why people didn’t want to come back, most of the kids were a nightmare, but you had been lucky, you had got the Loser’s Club.

“Hey, fuckface!”

A group of a little shits.

You smiled as you saw Beverly Marsh and Richie Tozier approach with large smiles, you extended your hand for a high five but were left hanging as they approached and looked judgingly, “Well hi to you too.”

Mike and Ben followed behind the two both eager to see you again, you were the cool teenager they all aspired to be like. You enjoyed that.

“Where're the others?” you asked as you started walking towards the boy's cabin (Bev being forced to share with other girls) with a curious eye scoping as more kids and mentors filed in.

“Eddie lost his inhaler so they’re looking for it,” Bev replied casually, the fact didn’t surprise you so you just let gave a smile in reply seeing the boys dib their bunks and unpack.

“C’mon Bev I’ll take you to your cabin, it’s not far away.” you gestured to the door as Beverly followed behind her heavy bags in tow.

By now most of the people had arrived and you watched the new counsellors become acquainted nonchalantly before feeling Bev tug at your arm.

“Look over there,” she pointed to a buss of kids emerging, “see that kid with the bowl cut?”

You looked around confused searching for a bowl cut that would stand out amongst the others. But you were abruptly distracted by a counsellor coming out of the bus in the yellow polo and blue shorts we all had to wear.

Big luscious hair, stylish ray bands and a certain stance that left you all flustered, you cursed you teenage tendencies. But damn.

“Y/N!” Bev yelled shoving you slightly to bring you away from the hot counsellor. “Over there!”

You finally could follow her finger and amongst the crowd of curly haired boys, redheads and the hot counsellor, your eyes crossed a boy with a black bowl cut and lanky body, an identical version of the idiot Richie Tozier.

“What the fuck.”

The Tozier doppelgänger had scared the entire losers club.

With everyone filed in the auditorium where people went if it rained, you ignored the basic protocols discussed only nudging Tozier occasionally to get him to shut up.

“This year we also have a little competition,” the coordinator said with her condescending happy voice, “We going to be doing a point system for the winners of each game, the most points will win a special prize at the end of this camp!”

You smirked, you guys had that in the bag, guaranteed, you had brains - Ben and Mike -, braun - Bev -, chaotic rage - Eddie -, goody boys to win best behaviour - Billy and Stan - and Richie to piss off all your competitors, a distraction.

“Don’t look too proud L/N.”

The voice nearly scared you, you looked up and looked into the pretty eyes of the counsellor you’d stared down earlier, and despite the initial attraction, your competitive streak kicked in.

“Why would that be Harrington?” you asked looking at his name tag.

“Because your team is a bunch of crazy idiots.”

“And yours aren’t?” you asked peering to the group seeing the curly haired boy shove the boy with black hair childishly, you peered back amused and you could tell Steve wasn’t too impressed either.

“You’d be surprised what these kids can do under pressure.” he mentioned, “We’re winning.”

“My kids would face their worst fears if they needed to win,” you challenged, “I bet we’ll win.”

“You’re willing to bet on that?”

“Yes.” you said without thinking it through, “What do you want if you, somehow, win?”

“How about I take you on a date? I promise it will be awful.”

“An awful date?” you laughed, how stupid, “Okay when my team win you’re going to arrive at the counsellor party in a special outfit.”

He seemed concerned and slightly deterred, “What is it?”

“You’ll find out.”

First activity, rope course.

Richie sent Mike the doppel into an angered rage, he fell. You won by thirty seconds.

Second activity, canoe race.

You and Bev came last because you got distracted by Steve who rowed without a shirt.

Third activity, orientation through the woods.

Stan got through it like a champ, Eddie panicked at the sight of nearly every bug, but Will managed to sneak the ‘Party’ through and bet the losers by two minutes.

Forth activity, abseiling.

Mike put up a good fight going down the cliff like a champ, but you when the losers friend jumped off a cliff they did too, your team aced it.

Fifth activity, tug-a-war.

Glaring at each other you and Steve stood arms crossed as you watched the other teams go back and forth, but you two both knew, you knew this was the deciding game. This was what decided if you went on a date with him or if he looked like an asshat at the counsellor party held once the kids leave.

“We can’t lose this guys.” you ordered the losers your hand pointing at every one of them, “I can’t go on a date with this dude.”

Their faces contorted at the mention, some a smirk, some a cheeky expression. Your frowned in reply, “Am I missing something.”

“Oh my god! Going on a date with Steve is the worst thing ever! I’m going to die!” Richie taunted, “We know you want to get in his pants Y/N.”

Gawking in reply you looked over to make sure Steve didn’t hear, “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Beverly sassed,��“I know why we lost the canoe race.”

“That was a one-off that doesn’t count.” you said trying to convince yourself and the club, “Don’t screw this up for me.”

They rolled their eyes but nodded, “Yeah trust me I don’t want the short haired girl calling me mouth breather again we’re winning.” Richie said as they wandered over to the side of the rope that would determine theirs and your fate. You watched excited and anxious, with a tiny part of you that thought a date wouldn’t be so bad. But screw that side because your group of preteens are better than his goddammit.

You stood with the other counsellors, they’d heard about yours and Steve’s bet and had all placed their own bets on who they thought would win. You didn’t really care because the bets were tied. The girls liked to discuss some of the things you might have to do on the date, you stressed about it the more they spoke of it. But you could tell Steve was just as nervous as you.

You stood next to him as the coordinator called out the rules, “You know my kids have got this in the bag right?”

“Sure they do.” he scoffed.

“Mike can barely run ten meters without wheezing, the others aren’t that much better.” you said, “Plus you’re their mentor? They were doomed from the beginning.”

“Because you’re so much better.” he said challengingly looking down at you, “You’re way to proud of yourself.”

You both looked at each other, up and down trying to be intimidating, but nearly everyone else took it as sexual tension, “Well who else should I be for, the seven-foot back hair on your scalp?”

“Beats touching the dead hay hair you’ve got.”

“You wish you could.”

He kind of did.

“Whatever.”

The conversation ended and you both turned to the kids all holding the rope leaning back waiting for the starting whistle.

“REMEMBER EDDIE THE HARDER YOU PULL THE QUICKER YOU GET TO LET THE ROPE GO!”

The whistle sounded and immediately grunts and cheers could be heard, you and Steve were barking at your teams as they pulled back and forth them all putting up a surprising fight as it came in tied. It didn’t make any sense to you given how weak some of them were.

You looked at the sand their feet were digging into, that’s when you noticed it, mouthbreather girl; her feet weren’t even moving, it was like she was made of stone. She was weighing their team down.

Steve seemed to notice it to because a shit eating grin came to his face. You gawked in shock looking at him but were then distracted by a loud roaring team.

The losers were on their butt in the dirt as the party cheered.

You looked at Steve and he was already staring at you, he had a shit eating grin and looked at you with a knowing look. If any of the rumours you’d heard about this date were true this was going to be a date from hell.

“...Fuck me.”

With the Party the crowned winners and your team sore losers you watched as the winners got free time at any of the activities desired. But your team still managed to snag a bunch of marshmallows and cook them late that night as your own celebration.

But now, watching the losers leave for another year, you were left with the tedious task of the worst date of your life.

Starting with the outfit Steve had chosen for you.

Reluctantly you put on the outfit you’d once seen amongst the dress up pile and wandered towards Steve’s cabin knocking on the door as aggressively as you could. You heard hollers from his cabin mates as the door creaked open. Steve emerged dressed in black pants and a casual shirt, all while you were wearing an atrocious dress from decades ago.

With a hip jutted out you gave a mocking pose and twirled, “Happy Harrington?”

He laughed at your outfit, “Very, now shall we go to dinner?”

He extended a hand for you to grab which you took, “I’d like you to know I’m absolutely terrified.”

He shrugged, “fair enough.”

He walked you towards the lake that was cold to the touch be dawn, the weeds were moving in the wind and the water waved serenely despite the murkiness of the water.

You looked at him curiously he pointed out onto the lake where a double small boat was waiting with some food in a basket. You looked down at your shoes and grimaced, “Steve I’m heels.”

“Don’t care let’s go!”

Pushing you towards the boat he helped you in as your feet shook and your balance betrayed you. after finally falling onto the right area Steve joined you and pushed you away from the docks and into the freezing water of the lake.

You placed your hands on the poofy dress trying to stay balanced, “I must admit I expected worse Harrington.” you mumbled looking at the assortment of food in the basket, “Wardrobe malfunctions aren’t exactly the plans of an evil mastermind.”

“But you haven’t heard the song I wrote for you.”

“What?”

“Or the song you're going to sing to the counsellors.”

“No.”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, “If I can make you wear that dress I’m going to make the most of this.”

You let out a groan that Steve stared fondly at, your hair falling in front of your face messily you puffed it away from your eyes and stared at Steve in displeasure, “I hate you.”

“Love you too Y/N.” he mocked rowing you to the centre of the lake stopping and pulling the ores in he opened the basket and revealed an assortment of kiddy food with red cordial obviously mocking wine, “Ready for your meal?”

“Classy.” you replied taking, “But still delicious, what’s the punchline?” you asked taking a bite of a small sandwich filled with surprisingly good contents. Steve smirked as watched you munch on the sandwich.

“One of everything is filled with laxatives.”

You spat out the food comically wiping the rest from your tongue, “Excuse me?”

He laughed maniacally, “I’m totally kidding. Nothing has laxatives.”

You moved the basket away from your feet and towards Steve, “Forgive me for not trusting you.”

“Want some cordial-”

“No.”

As the night progressed it did get worse, your heel broke, he sang you an awful ballad and then made you sing a song to the staff about how amazing he was but now you were heading to his grand finale, luckily, in sneakers.

It had reached nightfall well and truly now, the stars were bright and you were praying for this torture to be over as Steve led you further into the woods.

“I admit, murdering me is the worst date ever but could we perhaps not?”

He chuckled in reply pulling you further into the forest aiding you in your hideous dress, “I’m not murdering you, the worst date is nearly over anyway.”

You mumbled a thank god before being pulled through some dense bushes that light only barely shone through. Pushing leaves away from your face you finally came into the clearing.

A campfire, several blankets and pillows with an assortment of camping food goods.

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing,” he explained pulling you closer, “Your worst date is officially over, the best one is just beginning.”

After everything that happened you were a little relieved but disappointed that this seemed to have ended so quick, because despite the humiliation you had a lot of fun being an idiot with Steve, “But the bet was only one date?”

“Well, then I guess you can decide if I get a second one?”

You paused watched as he sat down amongst the pillows and drapped a blanket over his shoulders grabbing a bag of something, “I have marshmallows?”

Letting out a small laugh you decided, knowing the staff was leaving tomorrow and this was the last time you’d get to talk to him, “I’m coming.”

His face was entirely relieved as you wandered over and sat by him. He didn’t know if you would stay or not, but he was happy you did. You sat down beside him grabbing the softest blanket you could find and pulling over your shoulders and asked, “Hey, pass ‘em over.”

Passing a stick and opening the bag you grabbed several, impaled them and placed them over the fire. Looking over at Steve you smiled, “This is nice.”

He paused and you did so in tow, he obviously wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words so you waited patiently seeing the marshmallow cook over the fire.

“Y/N I... I really like you.”

You pulled your marshmallow towards you looking at him sincerely, “Funny way of showing it.”

He smiled as you added, “But I really like you too.”

You both paused again turning back to the fire, “But I don’t live in Hawkin’s it won’t work.”

Steve frowned, “Doesn’t matter.”

“I can’t date a person and only see them once a year, that ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he countered, “But we can see each other, you’re only two hours away.”

You paused eating another marshmallow, “We could try.”

He smiled victorious, “Good.”

Another couple hours later you both headed back to the cabins, “By the way, they think I took you on a hell hike so I’m going to pick you up like a bride.”

“Wait no!”

Too late as he picked you up making you laugh, everyone saw and watched amused clapping and hollering.

The next day you gave him a departing kiss as he got in his ride home, “I’ll see you in a week yeah?”

“Of course.” you nodded with a smile, “No sandwiches with laxatives yeah?”

“Never had any in the first place.” he smiled starting his car.

You waved with a smile as he drove away, he gave one back and you laughed as you disappeared into the woods.

Now you just had to count down the days.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington gif imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #stranger things oneshot #stranger things it crossover #au week

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jungshxook-blog · 7 years

Text

Paper Hearts Pt. 1

Part 2

Jungkook X Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

Summary : Jeon Jungkook, your best friend, soon becomes something you never thought possible : Distant…. All because the one he cared about most was oblivious towards his feelings.

A/N : Hello! So, I know that I recently posted a Yoongi angst, and I was hoping to post a part two, which I will, but this story just popped into my head… Soooo, I decided to write it. Part two of the Yoongi angst will still be coming out! Enjoy! (Plz excuse any grammer/spelling errors!)

Homework

The thing you hated most. The thing teachers assign you continuously without consideration.

College homework

The thing that kept you up at ungodly hours. The thing that overwhelmed you to the point where you could cry. The thing that made your life a living hell. The thing that made you miserable.

Jeon Jungkook

The man that just entered your home with a smile that could cure cancer. The man that brightened your day no matter what occurred. The man that was your closest friend.

“Y/N?” The sound was like music to your ears. The deep voice sent a rush of energy through your worn-out body. “You’re still up?”

Turning to face him, your lips stretched into a bright smile. Your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, stood in front if you, making your miserable state transform into pure joy effortlessly.

“Jungkook, I’m always up this late. Really, I’m fine. You don’t need to check up on me after work, you know,” you complain as you walk over to the angel-like boy. “Seokjin must be worried.”

“I told him that I was going to see my most favorite person in the world.” He’d always come up with heart melting comments to make you feel better. He was the only person who knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Pulling you into a tight hug, Jungkook stroked your hair as he kicked his shoes off. He swiftly moved onto the nearby couch as he sat the both of you down, pulling away from the hug.

“Are you okay? You’re acting worse than usual, he questioned in a rather concerned tone. Completely ignoring the question, you took the opportunity to examine each and every one of his features.

His sleek, dark brown hair was drenched with sweat at the tips and it scattered all over his pale forehead. His plush pink lips were parted, revealing his adorable bunny teeth, and his eyes were dark and glossy. Not to mention his outfit - Oh his outfit just complimented his features even more.

Damn, since when did he get so handsome?

“Am I that sweaty?!” His voice sliced through your thoughts, bringing your attention back to the present. “Go bathe if you want to. All that hip thrusting must’ve took up a lot of your energy,” you tease, pointing to the bathroom.

While waiting for Jungkook to exit the shower, you sat down at your desk and go back to your project. The stress instantly piled itself back onto your shoulders, preventing you from doing anymore work. Turning off your computer - which almost died due to how long you’ve been using it - you rest your aching head on the table and close your eyes.

You open your eyes, adjusting to the bright light that mercilessly shone in your face. The last thing you remembered was that you were resting at your desk.

So why am I in my room?

The nearby snoring (that was obviously coming from a man) answered your internal question as you turn to find none other than Jungkook. You were used to this, as he always brought you to your room when you dozed off while doing your schoolwork.

This was one of the main reason why Jungkook got a key to your house. He’d always complain how sleeping at the desk would promote back problems. When he finally got a key cut out for himself, he never missed a day without checking up on you.

Groaning, Jungkook opened his tired eyes as he stifled a yawn. “Good morning, Y/N-ah,” he hummed as he sat up, revealing his bare chest. His abs were more defined than usual, indicating that he’d been working out a lot more.

“Good morning, Jungkookie!” You shout as you attack the shirtless male with a tight hug, running your fingers through his bed head.

You pull the covers off of you as you get out of the bed, but regret your decision when the cool, winter air hit your face and arms mercilessly. You tip-toe over to the window to find fresh snow covering the ground, reminding you of a soft, white blanket.

“Yeoboseyo? I told you, Hyung! Yeah sorry, I fell asleep. Okay we’ll be there in ten minutes.” The sound of Jungkook’s groggy voice boomed through the otherwise silent room as he hung up the phone shortly after. “Jin-Hyung wants me to bring you over for breakfast,” he hummed as he, too, rolled out of bed, running a hand through his soft hair.

This was not surprising to you. Jin always made food for you on the weekends due to how much you worked, thinking that it would take a huge weight off your shoulders. You couldn’t lie, it did help. You just couldn’t stand the fact that he was forcing himself to cook for someone other than himself and the boys.

“Y/N-ah! Oh my god, I missed you!” As soon as you entered the dorm that was shared by seven boys, you were attack by Hoseok as he greeted you with a bear hug, screaming your name while doing so.

“Hey, Hobi. You’re kinda, um… Choking me?” You said as you pat his back. You loved him to pieces but his hugs got out of hand often due to how joyous he is to see you. He reluctantly let go of you, stepping back to now greet Jungkook, who was silent as he peered at the ground beneath his feet.

“Kookie, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asked, attempting to get his attention, but to no avail. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” he breathed. Turning on his heel, Jungkook walked away, leaving both you and Hoseok dumbfounded.

“Ah, there she is! How’ve you been, Y/N-ah? We’ve all missed you like hell and only Jungkook sees you daily,” said the voice of the oldest boy as he hugged you (way less tighter than Hoseok).

“Good to see you, too Jin. Is everything okay with Jungkook? He was acting kinda strange just now.” You tilt your head to the side as you scan his face for any change of emotion.

His eyebrows furrowed as his lips pressed into a straight line. “Yes, I’ve notice that he’s been strange as well. Maybe he’s coming down with a cold. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Jin reassured you. But you weren’t buying it.

“Then how come he was just acting so shady towards Hoseok when he hugged me?” You probably sounded like you expected Jin to have all the answers, but you weren’t okay with Jungkook’s miserable state, especially when he was fine before you left your home.

“That…Yeah, Y/N. I know why, but I’ll leave that for him to explain to you. That is, if he wants to,” he sighed, ruffling his brown hair.

“YAH! The food’s getting cold and insipid!” Yelled an annoyed Yoongi. The three of you all walk to the table, greeting the rest of the boys as you take your seat next to Jimin and Taehyung.

“Oh, Jungkook-ah is still in the restroom,” Seokjin explained. “I’ll go get him.” With that, he got up from the silent table and walked down the hall.

“Y/N-ah, what’s wrong with you? You look-” Taehyung started, but was soon stopped short of his sentence when he spotted a miserable Jungkook entering the dining room as he took a seat next to Namjoon.

Jin followed behind Jungkook, taking his previous seat, which was next to Jungkook and Namjoon. “Alright, shall we eat now?” Jin sighed as he grabbed his chopsticks, putting them into position.

“Thank you for the food!” everyone yelled, except for Jungkook. But, due to how loud and unharmonious everyone was, none of the boys picked up on his rare behavior. But you did.

“So, Jungkookie,” Taehyung hummed, giving him a small grin. “Is everything okay with your hormones? Is that why you’re being so moody?” Jungkook then snapped his head in Taehyung’s direction, quickly glancing at you before responding.

“No, Taehyung. My hormones are not raging. Just mind your own goddamn business,” he said in a calm, but cold tone. His rather hurtful tone shut up not only Taehyung, but the rest of the table, including you.

“Thanks again for coming with me, Tae,” you say as you turn your head to face your friend. You had asked Taehyung to take a walk with you after breakfast to talk about Jungkook. Out of the six, he was the closest to the Maknae.

“So, when did he start acting like this? I mean, he was fine at my house.” As you complained about your best friend’s behavior, Taehyung’s head shot up, his dark brown eyes locking with your own as he halted his steps.

“Oh, he’s very protective of you, Y/N. Especially now,” he sighed. Now…? “What do you mean now?! This is so fucking complicated!” You scream, your tone startling the older as you throw your hands in the air dramatically.

“Y/N, please calm down,” he tried in a soothing voice.

“I don’t want to calm down, Tae! Why is Jungkook acting up like this?! Is it because of me?! Maybe I should stop coming over to your dorms.” Your screaming turned into a high-pitched shriek due to how much you were fussing.

“No! Y/N, I’m sure that would just make things worse. Jungkook…” Taehyung was in deep thoughts and looked as if he was contemplating on whether or not he should continue his sentence.

His pink lips turned down into a frown as he furrowed his eyebrows, wringing his hands furiously behind his back.

“Y/N, I.. I can’t tell you. It’s just not my place. Jungkook should be the one to tell you what’s going on,” he sighed, taking one hand from behind his back to rub his neck awkwardly.

The sudden vibration in your back pocket stopped your rambling as you grabbed it out and read the message on the screen :

Jungkook : Where did you go?

Rolling your eyes playfully, you immediately reply to his message, completely oblivious to the fact that Taehyung was by your side.

Y/N : I’m fine, Jungkook. I just took a walk with Taehyung.

Jungkook : For what?

Y/N : I just needed to speak with him about something that’s been bothering me! Goddamn, Jungkook.

Jungkook : Well, sorry for caring. Fuck, is it a crime?!

Y/N : Jungkook, stop being an ass. Calm the hell down.

Y/N : In fact, don’t bother to bring your ass-like behavior to my house tonight. Taehyung will bring you your clothes.

With that, you turned off your phone, putting it on silent while doing so as you turn to - finally - acknowledge the stressed Taehyung. “Sorry for bringing you into this mess, Tae. I should’ve never even got myself into this.”

Taehyung did not answer, but there was no need to. For, the look in his glistening eyes said it all :

I understand

“Y/N, I’m sure he will tell you what’s going on soon enough,” he cooed, patting your back as his frown stretched into a reassuring smile.

Not anymore. I just told him he’s an ass. I’m sure he’s not gonna tell me shit.

“Yeah, about that… I’m gonna need you to come by my house to pick up Jungkook’s clothes,” you groan as you point to your car.

Instantly understanding the situation, Taehyung made a sound of approval as he grabbed your wrist, running towards your nearby car.

Once you got to your destination, Taehyung - being the gentleman he is - opened the door for you on the passenger side, and plopped into the driver seat after shutting your door.

There was no need to tell him where to go because he’s been over there with his hyungs multiple times, but they recently stopped their series of visitations for some unknown reason. But for some reason, you had a feeling that it had to do with Jungkook.

Buzz buzz

Another message, most likely from Jungkook.

You decided that whatever he had to say wasn’t important, most likely shooting back at your nasty comment about him. Brushing it off, you relaxed in your seat as you close your eyelids.

What was supposed to be a tranquilizing ride turned out to be a rather annoying one. Non-stop vibrations caused your backside to feel as if it was being tickled, so you grabbed it out of your back pocket and threw it down on the floor in disgust.

For the entire ride, Taehyung said nothing, but you didn’t mind.

What you didn’t know what that he was concerned about how your relationship with Jungkook will turn out. He was scared for the both of you, not knowing what move you or Jungkook might make.

Taehyung knew for a fact that if you did anything rash, like avoiding Jungkook, the Maknae would loose his mind due to how crazy he was for you.

How could it not be obvious that Jungkook is in love with her?

The steaming water poured down onto your fatigued body, calming your nerves the second it made contact with your skin. Your water bill was bound to be high, but you didn’t care.

You never took hour-long showers every day. But today was different. You were overly stressed. Not to mention fed up.

Finally turning off the water, you step out of the shower and get dressed, only to hear the faint sound of knocking.

“Y/N?” Called the voice, which sounded like your best friend, Jungkook.

But why was he in your house if you told him not to bother coming over? The answer was simple : he didn’t listen to you at all. After all, you aren’t his mother.

“Please come out,” he shouted, but in a calm way. Well, he did sound more under control than he did earlier this morning.

“Why are you here, Jungkook? Did Taehyung not give you your belongings?” You shoot, opening the door and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Y/N, please hear me out. I was so rude to everyone, and I-” he began, but you put a hand up, indicating for him to stop talking.

“No, Jungkook. You had no right to do that! Disrespecting Hoseok and Taehyung… Probably for something stupid, too! They were just trying to help you!” You shout, louder and more collected than you felt.

The Jungkook that was oh so calm, was now enraged as he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you get it?! Hoseok likes you!” He screamed, his face tinted red.

“It’s been obvious for weeks!”

*Flashback*

“Where’s Jungkook?” you demand, walking into the kitchen of the boys’ dorm. Jungkook was nowhere to be found, and you were deeply worried. Usually, he was the first one to greet you when you arrived at his home.

But today was different.

“No need to get all panicky, Y/N!” called Hoseok as he guided you to a love seat, sitting the both of you down. “He slept in later than usual, so he’s just changing out of his pajamas!”

“Okay. Maybe I’m just being too clingy,” you sigh as you sit back in the seat, snuggling with one of the pillows.

Hoseok then swung his arm around your shoulders as he leaned towards you, barely two centimeters away.

“Y/N, I don’t think you’re clingy. Plus,” he whispered, leaning in more as his breath hit the shell of your ear. “Who wouldn’t want you around them?”

After finishing his sentence, he turned his head slightly, pressing his soft lips against your cheek.

“Ahem,” grunted a voice coming from the hallway.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Hoseok turned to face a rather upset looking Jungkook.

“Oh, hi Jungkookie!” he yelled, straightening out his shirt nervously. “Y/N was getting so worried about you, I had to calm her down.”

“Yeah,” was all he said in return. Now focusing on you, he forced a small grin on his lips as he gestured for you to follow him outside.

After that day, Jungkook told you that you wouldn’t be able to go to the dorms as often as you used to. And if you asked why, he’d reply with ‘You need to focus more on your school work’ or ‘we’re busy with a new song’.

You never thought anything of Hoseok’s behavior.

But Jungkook knew what was going on.

He knew damn well what was going on

Now that you thought about it, Hoseok was acting unusually clingy. But what did that have to do with Jungkook?

“ISN’T IT OBVIOUS, Y/N?!” he screamed, his hands balling into fists as his knuckles turned white.

“I thought my love for you was visible in your eyes, but I guess they’re only on Hoseok right?!”

“Love…?” you breathe. “Jungkook, I -” you began, but were cut off by his screaming at you.

“NO! Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to tell you about my feelings for you? Do you know how much longer I knew you for?” he challenged, walking over to your dresser and leaning on it as he crossed his shaking hands over his chest.

“Jungkook, please,” you begged, sounding as desperate as you felt. “I’m sorry, I never knew you felt this way-” another interruption.

But this time, he decided to interrupt with his fist, throwing it towards the mirror beside him as both of you examined the now-shattered glass.

Bringing his fist back to his side, Jungkook took a long, deep sigh as he locked his fiery eyes on your own.

His reddened fist bled fiercely, yet he paid little attention to the wound. “Y/N… Why are you like this to me?” he questioned, but to be honest with yourself, you had no words for him.

“Maybe it’s best that we stay away from each other for a little while.” With that, Jungkook turned and stomped out of the silent room, slamming the wooden door in the process.

Your shocked state was finally broken as you allows your emotions to flood out of you, specifically your eyes.

You began to cry

Is Jungkook really mad at you, or did he just need time to think?

You were certain that he no longer wanted anything to do with you, as you crumpled to the ground and let your tears soak your clothes.

Anger, sadness, embarrassment, shame, and disbelief were all bubbling up in your chest. But most of all, it was a feeling of deep loss that latched onto your broken soul the most.

Jungkook was your life. You always thought about him, talked to him, laughed with him, and did everything with him. So how were you going to cope now that he was no longer available to you?

You needed a distraction, and you needed it now.

Peeling off your night clothes, you change into a bright red dress that clinged onto your thighs and added way more volume to your breast than what you actually had.

You shoved your feet into a pair of shiny black high heels and grabbed your purse as you walked out the door to your home.

Walking down to the nearby club that was about five minutes away, you call your friend, Seoyeon, and invited her to join you. Did you tell her why you randomly decided to dress up and go clubbing? No. You’d let the alcohol decide when it was right for her to know once you downed enough of it.

“I’ll be there in five,” Seoyeon replied, completely flattered that you called her to party with you.

Once you reached the noisy building, you stride up to the gaurd, pulling out your ID to show that you were over eighteen. With a nod of his head, the rather diesel man stepped aside, opening the door in the process.

Finally entering the room, you go straight to the bar as you take a seat next to a man, whose lap was occupied by a highly intoxicated woman.

On your right was another man, this one being alone, looking unhappy, even with hundreds of others who were smiling like idiots.

The guy was pretty handsome. His dark brown eyes were hooded and his lips were a light pink color, while his hair was raven black as it covered his forehead. His nose was round at the tip, reminding you of Jungkook’s

Jungkook…

Why did he have to pop up in your mind right now?

You cried about him earlier, but your tears dried, and now they threatened to fall into your cheeks once more as your eyes began to sting.

Too caught up in your thoughts to remember that you were staring at the handsome stranger next to you, the man locked eyes with yours, a concerned expression covering his face when he noticed your wet eyes.

“Um, sorry but… Are you alright, Miss?” The man asked, fully turning to face you.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his voice. It was deep, but yet soothing at the same time, and it helped you to calm down a bit.

“I-I’m fine,” you croaked, covering your mouth at the raspy sound.

“Really? You don’t seem okay, Miss,” he sighed, but decided not to push the situation any further.

Beckoning to one of the bartenders, the caring stranger ordered two Long Island cocktails, something you never heard of before.

Handing one to you, the man politely smiled as he held up his drink. Holding your drink up, as well, you lightly bumped your glass into his, laughing at his shocked face when some of the drink fell onto the tiled ground.

“Jinsoo,” he said, holding out his free hand in your direction.

“Y/N,” you reply, taking his hand in yours as you shake it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes go wide as you gulp down more of the concoction. “What is this? It’s good!” You coo, licking your lips in satisfaction.

“It’s called a Long Island cocktail,” Jinsoo chuckled.

“It’s made of Tequila, Gin, Whiskey, White Rum, Vodka, sugar syrup, Coca Cola, and orange juice.”

“Wah!” You shout. “I never thought Coke and orange juice would be so tastey!” Gulping down the remaining liquid, you order two more, one for yourself and one for Jinsoo.

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he grins as he takes the glass from your hands. “This is amazing, Jinsoo! Thanks for introducing it to me. I think this is what I needed,” you sigh as you sip on the substance, a little slower this time.

“Yeah, no problem.”

The two of you talked about nothing in particular, laughing and joking every other sentence. Jinsoo was a cool guy, and he aided you in distracting yourself from Jungkook.

All thoughts of him were out the window, or so you thought…

When you got a text from Seoyeon saying that she wouldn’t be able to join you at the club, you spent the rest of your time with Jinsoo, where the two of you got drunk after being introduced to multiple concoctions.

After you finished your second glass of the Long Island cocktail, you told Jinsoo that you wanted to introduce him to something new as well.

“Blue Hawaii,” you shout, shoving the glass in his face as he gladly took it from your grasp.

“What’s in it?” he challenged before taking a small sip.

“Light Rum, Vodka, Blue Curaçao Liqueur, pineapple juice, and sweet and sour mix,” you reply proudly after seeing the satisfied expression on the opposite’s face.

After sucking down the rest of the alcohol, Jinsoo then slammed the glass on the counter as he ordered who knows what for you to try? Bringing the glass to your hands, he guided it to your mouth as you took a sip, immediately melting in the taste.

“This is a Chocolatini,” he chanted with delight.

“It’s made with coffee creamer, Vodka, and chocolate liqueur. The chocolate syrup and sparkling sugar are on the rimming of the glass.”

“This is… Oh my god! It’s delicious, and it gives me some energy too,” you joked, hitting Jinsoo’s shoulder playfully when he rolled his eyes.

After about three more rounds of unknown substances, you pulled your knew friend onto the dance floor as you swayed your hips to the energizing music.

“Woah, Y/N! You’ve got some moves!” Jinsoo slurred as he staggered a bit, but soon found his balance when he place a hand on your shoulder.

Both of you were an intoxicated mess, as one would say, as the two of you giggled and played around on the dance floor instead of actually dancing. But, no one seemed to mind. After all, the drinks had gotten to them as well.

What you weren’t ready for was the sudden pang of sadness you felt deep in your stomach when you turned to your right and found a woman basically throwing herself onto a man. But not just any man.

The guy had dark brown hair, and he wore a black suit. His pink lips were parted, revealing what looked like bunny teeth, and his nose was unmistakably rounded at the tip.

You were quite close to the two, which allowed you to hear what the girl said next. “Jungkook, baby, maybe we could go to that back room over there?” she asked as she lifted a hand to point to a room a the corner that was currently empty.

Jungkook…

As the male turned to follow the girl’s finger, his dark orbs locked with yours, causing your fluttering heart to skip, not one beat, but multiple beats as your breath hitched in your throat.

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