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jjkamochoso · 6 months ago

Note

It's me again lol!! What about jjk men taking the reader on an aquarium date or like a museum date! ^_^

UR MIND >>>>>>> SO ADORABLE

Also I’m now including Ino because I can’t believe I’ve been forgetting to add my pookie in these

Enjoy and thanks for the request!!! <3

JJK Men Taking You on a Date to the Aquarium/Museum

Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Yuji:

“That fish looks like you.”

Your eyes fell to where Yuji’s finger was pointing. There was a huge fish with big, bulging eyes swimming in circles in the aquarium exhibit in front of you.

“Oh, really, does it?” You were thoroughly amused at your boyfriend’s antics, his grin widening as you played along. “This one is a spitting image of you.”

Yuji caught a glimpse of the fish you were pointing at and turned away from you, making you frown. Did you inadvertently hurt his feelings? The fish wasn’t *that* ugly. Besides, you both were joking around, but you never meant to go too far and make him sad. You tentatively put a hand on his back to get his attention.

“Yuji, I didn’t—”

He faced you again, this time sporting a quintessential fish face with his cheeks sucked in and lips protruding in a pout. You immediately started cracking up, and since laughter is contagious, especially among you two, so did he.

“There’s lots of cute fish here, but you were the cutest,” you finally said, making him blush. He grasped your hand tightly and you set off for another exhibit.

Megumi:

When Megumi asked you on a date to an art museum, you were elated. A quiet, calm activity like this was perfect for the both of you so you could enjoy each other’s company without many other people observing you. You walked side by side with the boy as you meandered through the exhibit that was showcasing artwork of animals in ancient civilizations. You stopped in front of a particularly cute sculpture of a dog, cooing softly.

“Megumi, look how adorable,” you said, and he nodded in agreement.

“Reminds me of my own,” he mused, referring to his divine dogs (you thought it was precious how close he was to his shikigami).

“Maybe we can bribe the curator with Gojo’s money to take it home with us.”

Megumi shot you a look. “Are you serious? I don’t think you can just take art like that.”

A few seconds passed.

“Can you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I was joking.”

Megumi was quiet as usual but the air about him seemed almost contemplative. After a few more seconds, he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Gojo would probably break it anyway.”

“Wait, were you actually considering trying to buy it?” you questioned.

“Maybe.” The black haired boy shrugged, moving on to the next sculpture.

“Fushiguro the art collector, huh? Who would’ve thought you were so extravagant. Gojo’s spending habits must have rubbed off on you,” you teased, making him huff.

“Shut up,” he said, no bite to his tone whatsoever as you just giggled, cuddling up to his side as you continued on with your date.

Yuta:

“It’s like getting a million little kisses. I’m so in love with this creature.”

"Am I… jealous of a starfish?”

You were currently holding a starfish in your hands, its suction cups sticking to your skin, leaving behind a tickling sensation that you couldn’t get enough of. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of your kissing analogy and was doing his best not to pout over something so silly.

“Yuta, come closer! It’s too cute not to hold.”

He couldn’t deny he was curious to see what the hype was about. People had flocked over to this exhibit in droves and you guys had waited in line to hold a sea star for an ungodly amount of time—he wasn’t going to miss out now. The handler put one in his hands too and he immediately understood what you meant earlier.

“They are really cute. I see what you meant by the whole kissing thing, that’s amazing,” he said, his voice laced with wonder and amusement as he watched the sea creature grip onto his skin. He then looked up and locked eyes with you, both of your irises alight with love.

“But I still prefer yours.”

Inumaki:

There’s plenty of fish in the sea but you’re the only one for me.

You raised an eyebrow at the words on the phone screen shoved in front of your face while you were watching some fish swim by in the aquarium tank. Toge, meanwhile, was dying laughing at his lame pick up line written in his notes app. Seeing his reaction made your lips quirk up into a mischievous grin as something came to mind. You pulled out your own phone and hurriedly began typing, thrusting it toward him when you were done.

I cod-nt imagine my life without you, Toge. You’re a reel catch.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the grimace he wore.

“Fish flakes,” he said, putting his head in his hands and stifling giggles.

“My line was that bad, huh?” you asked, nudging him softly.

“Salmon,” he agreed, but the loving look he held in his eyes when they met yours again showed he was anything but bothered.

“You’re of-fish-ally the cutest boy I’ve ever seen,” you told him while ruffling his hair playfully, earning a loud groan from the blonde. He quickly typed out another sentence.

I’m so glad we go to the same school.

Noritoshi:

You were pleasantly surprised when Noritoshi asked you on a date to the aquarium. You figured he would’ve deemed it too childish or an experience not scholarly enough but you were wrong, now feeling the pull of his hand as he excitedly walked you around, pointing things out and chatting about things he had just learned.

“…and I just read that most fish don’t have eyelashes. Did you see that too?”

“Except for sharks,” you replied, a gentle smiling resting on your face.

“Exactly.”

Noritoshi took a deep breath as you led him to a bench to sit down and watch the jellyfish float around.

“I’m sorry for getting too passionate. I just feel like I can be myself here. There’s less… pressure, if that makes sense. Like I can learn things just to know them, not to impress anyone or get a good grade on something. It’s… nice.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know what you mean,” you said, laying a comforting hand on his leg. Noritoshi rested his hand on top of yours and gave it a light squeeze, observing the entrancing dance of the jellyfish.

“They look so free,” he muttered. “I wonder what that feels like.”

Your head was now lovingly balanced against his shoulder as you squeezed his hand back.

“I promise you that one day you’ll know.”

Todo:

“Y/n! You have to watch this!”

You were happy to accompany Aoi to the local science museum for a date. You two were having a fun time exploring and trying out all the different experiments the museum had to offer. You weren’t sure what to expect when Aoi called you over to the experiment he had just done since you were enthralled in a presentation about lightning. You were confused when Aoi put his hand on a big ball, but all of a sudden, the hair in his bun became even spikier than normal.

“Static electricity!” he exclaimed, sporting a huge grin. Seeing how happy all of this made your boyfriend had you smiling from ear to ear as well. When he eventually took his hand off the orb, his hair didn’t quite go back into place.

“C’mere,” you giggled, gesturing to his hair, “I’ll fix it for you.”

“Thank you, my love,” he said, leaning over to where you could reach him. You combed the strands back into place and gave him a kiss on the cheek when you were done.

“You’re having a fun time today, right?” Aoi asked you, a rare moment of vulnerability from the muscular man.

“Of course, Aoi. Thank you for inviting me here.”

“No problem,” he replied, his cocky demeanor back as he winked at you. “Now, if you’re interested, there’s a presentation on superconductors in a few minutes. Do you want to see it?”

It always surprised you when you remembered just how smart your sometimes air-headed boyfriend really was.

Gojo:

When you invited Satoru to the science museum, he was extremely excited. Not because of the science aspect, no, but because he loved to eat the packs of freeze dried ice cream you can buy from the gift shop. You were busy reading a giant wall panel about physics when you felt the thunk of a head resting on your back and heard a sigh of exasperation.

“Are you finished yet? This is boring,” Satoru said, mumbling into your shirt.

“I’m trying to learn, Satoru. It wouldn’t kill you to learn something either. You’re a teacher, aren’t you supposed to have a thirst for knowledge?”

“I have a thirst for soda,” came a muffled reply from behind you. You rolled your eyes, going back to reading. Satoru kept fidgeting and you found yourself getting frustrated at his lack of focus.

“Since you know so much, why don’t you tell me about relativity and quantum mechanics?”

“Quantum mechanics studies the world by looking at just a few small particles like photons and electrons. Relativity is the theory of gravitation that Einstein proposed around the same time as quantum mechanics. General relativity studies the construct of space-time and gravity, while special relativity studies special conditions and scenarios, such as length contraction, which is where an object is moving near the speed of light and its length actually shortens. See, I already know this stuff, so can we pleeeease go to the gift shop now?” Satoru whined, throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of boredom. Your mind was still reeling over the fact that your boyfriend was… ridiculously good at science and never bothered to tell you?!

“I… yeah,” you said, completely dumbfounded. Satoru ignored the confusion in your voice as he cheered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the gift shop.

Geto:

You and Suguru were taking your time walking through the museum he chose for your date. It was nice to walk with him, holding hands and enjoying deep conversations about the pieces that were showcased in each exhibit. You came up to a bench in front of a particularly large infographic and took a seat, your lover sitting next to you. After he knew you were finished reading, he asked you the few little words he assumed would set you off on a passionate tangent (he was right).

“So, y/n, what are your thoughts on this topic?”

As you began to analyze everything you just learned, Suguru watched you intently, but not in a negative manner; he was just so genuinely interested in what you had to say that it was like the whole world around him disappeared every time you opened your mouth. He nodded along, hearing you bring up things he hadn’t even considered yet.

“I’m lucky to have a partner who’s so intelligent,” Suguru cooed, his thumb ghosting over your jawline, initiating this romantic moment like you two were the only people in the building. To him, you were the only people that mattered anyway, so what was the point in hiding how he truly felt?

Nanami:

“C’mon Kento, it’s not as scary as you think it is. They’re completely harmless.”

You were currently trying to get your boyfriend to pet the stingrays but he was not having any part of it. The color had drained from Kento’s face when you submerged your hand in the clear water, feeling the smooth surface of the rays under your fingertips. The blonde man wasn’t afraid, per se, but he didn’t think it was the wisest decision to be touching such a dangerous animal.

“Y/n, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What if you provoke them?”

You were about to laugh when you saw he was genuinely distressed. Frowning, you stood up and tried to dry your wet hand the best you could before reaching out to him.

“Kento, honey, it’s alright. They have to be really angry to sting people. I promise you’ll be alright if you try it.”

Kento relented and leaned over the touch tank, hesitantly placing his hand in the water next to yours. When a ray swam under him, the rubbery texture gracing his skin, he immediately tensed up. Your unoccupied hand landed on his arm as encouragement and it seemed to help him relax a bit. A few more stingrays came over to him and Kento finally calmed down, smiling as he greeted his new friends.

Ino:

“Babe, look, that’s literally us.”

Ino caught your attention away from a particularly interesting exhibit about seaweed as he pointed to a diagram that displayed two fish with their mouths on each other.

“Ino, that’s very sweet, but I think they’re fighting.”

Your boyfriend leaned closer to read the tiny print, his hands in his pockets in a display of nonchalance that you always found supremely attractive.

“Oh, you’re right! They try to flip each other over like that. It’s like the Spider-Man kiss but more badass.”

You shook your head, lightly chuckling as you linked your arm in his and continued walking through the aquarium. All of a sudden, you gasped and tapped Ino’s arm excitedly.

“Oh my god! This is literally us!”

Ino’s eyes went wide and his smile grew bigger. You were showing him to a video that displayed otters holding hands as they drifted in the water.

“Yeah,” he said dreamily, resting his chin on the top of your head as you watched the animals on the screen, “it is.”

Choso:

You were sitting in a dark room of the planetarium, looking up at a projected sky full of stars with your handsome boyfriend. Choso had his arm wrapped tightly around your body, hand resting on your waist as your head was nestled against his shoulder. You sat there quietly, enjoying the peacefulness of the exhibit. The sight of the stars above you changed into a slow spinning view of the earth and you gasped lightly.

“Woah, look at how beautiful our world is.” You didn’t hear him reply, which was unusual, so you lowered your eyes from the spectacular scene above to look at the man next to you.

“You’re my world,” he stated bluntly, unrelenting gaze boring into your own. “You’re the brightest star in the galaxy of my life.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you said, trying not to show how flustered you got over his beautiful words. He just drew you in closer, adamant to never let you go.

Toji:

“How does this piece make you feel?”

“Like I’ve been here for hours and I’m hungry.”

Toji wasn’t the biggest fan of the art museum you dragged him to but you were glad he allowed you to take him here in the first place. It meant a lot to you that he would willingly go somewhere like this that completely disinterested him, but he would go to the ends of the earth to please you.

“There’s a cafe around here if you wanna go eat,” you said, paying him no mind as you studied the painting that grabbed your attention.

Toji scoffed. “And leave you here by yourself? No way.”

Your focus was now broken, instead trying to stifle a laugh at his overprotective behavior. “The art isn’t going to kidnap me, you know.”

“I know,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, “but some dude might see a smart, attractive person like you by yourself and think he has a chance.”

“And I need my big, hot, uninterested-in-art boyfriend to keep an eye out for me?”

“Exactly.” Toji smirked at you while you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I appreciate that. I’ll finish up here and we’ll head to the cafe together then?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You went back to your contemplative state while Toji’s eyes wandered the room. He would never tell you this, but he found many of the pieces actually interesting and hoped you would take him along to more places like this in the future.

#yuji itadori x reader #megumi x reader #yuta x reader #inumaki x reader #noritoshi x reader #aoi todo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #ino takuma x reader

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demonpiratehuntress · 9 months ago

Note

I see you have requests opened! If you don’t mind, I’d love an Ace one.

You’re a mermaid who rescues ace when he falls overboard drunk one night. His brilliant idea is to keep falling overboard to keep being rescued by you to get your attention cuz he can’t think of any other way. The crew thinks he’s insane and stands by in case he actually doesn’t get saved. To the point reader is like you do know there are other ways to see me besides trying to kill yourself?

this is actually such a funny and cute idea, i love it XD sorry it took so long, and i hope you like it!

taglist - @kabloswrld

(i'm so sorry i forgot i had someone to tag! if anyone else wants to be added just let me know!)

just call me, idiot

Portgas D. Ace x Mermaid!Reader

summary - idiot Ace <3

warnings - mentions of drowning, one joke about Ace trying to kill himself

You've heard them every night for the past week.

Whenever you swam up to the surface to look at the stars, the boisterous laughter and obnoxious chatter of men partying the night away aboard their ship met your ears. It was annoying, to say the least, but you wouldn't dare risk being ensnared by them for their amusement by calling them out for it.

That is, of course, until one of their crewmembers changed your mind about them.

"Man overboard!"

"The dumbass!"

"He can't swim!"

Your attention was caught one night when those panicked comments filled the air, and you looked towards the ship to see someone struggling in the water nearby. Against your better judgement, you swam over quickly and hooked your arms under the man's armpits, lifting him above the water so he could breathe. Once he was done spluttering and coughing up water, and you got a good look at him, you blushed.

He was handsome, extremely handsome. Dark hair stuck to his pale face, cute freckles dotting his cheeks. His eyes were bright with mischief, but when he smiled at you you couldn't help but think he looked angelic.

"A mermaid!" He gasped, eyes brightening even more. "This must be my lucky night." And he gave you a drunken smile, making you sigh.

You waited patiently for someone to come down to get him, keeping him afloat in the meantime since you couldn't very well climb aboard. Eventually they dropped a rowboat, and you carefully settled the now passed out man into it. You stayed to watch them pull him up, hearing shouts of 'thank you' but all you could focus on was how pretty that man was.

And how you hoped to see him again soon.

You got your wish the very next night, because Ace couldn't get you out of his head. He had been drunk, sure, but he definitely remembered seeing a mermaid. And he wanted to see you again, but he just didn't know how to get a mermaid's attention.

"You must have hit your head pretty hard to think you saw a mermaid!" Marco teased him, making the others laugh. None of them believed Ace, and every single one of them considered the idea absurd and insane - even more so since Ace is known for pulling pranks.

"But I did!" He insisted, pouting.

"Ace, there is no way you could have seen a mermaid," Marco sounded worried now. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the 2nd division commander grumbled. "But I'll prove it."

So his brilliant idea to prove it? To pretend he was drunk again and fall overboard, so you could come and save him again.

You came to his rescue again, sure enough, but this time Ace could see you clearly and he was awestruck by your beauty. For once the talkative commander was stunned into silence, and he just stared at you for the longest time until you blushed and looked away.

"We need to stop meeting like this," you told him, laughing softly. "You need to be more careful."

"You're so beautiful," he ignored your warning, smiling like a lovestruck sailor - which he was. "Really, really beautiful."

You blushed some more, "Because I'm a mermaid."

"I'd like to think that even if you weren't, I'd still have fallen for you."

Your eyes widened at his words, butterflies blooming in your gut. Your face flushed a bright red, and for a moment you were speechless. Then you remembered he belonged on land, and quickly helped him back to his ship.

"You should stop falling into the sea," you told him, "You're a devil fruit user aren't you? You could die."

"It would be worth it to see you again," he smiled, and you were concerned that he was actually serious.

"Just go," you laughed.

"Not without getting your name," he replied. "Please?"

You sighed, "It's (Name)."

"Pretty," he grinned. "I'm Ace."

And once he was gone up again, you couldn't help but feel a longing for the man you couldn't have. Little did you know, he was thinking the exact same about you. You never left each other's minds, and while you could only wish to see him again, Ace made it his personal mission to see you whenever he could.

He ignored your words and kept falling into the ocean, so much so that it became a habit of his, just to see you. You could tell soon enough that he was doing it on purpose and wasn't really drunk, but he would never listen when you told him to stop. What made it even funnier, though, was that you could see his crewmates gather around every time he committed to this dramatic method, all of them ready to jump in and stop the dumbass from drowning if needs be. They clearly still assumed he was insane.

"Ace," you giggled one night after saving him again, "There are better ways to see me, you know."

"Like how?" He pouted.

"You could just call me, idiot," you laughed, handing him a shell. "Just blow into that and I'll come. You don't have to try and kill yourself to see me."

He chuckled, holding the shell close, "Fine, I'll stop. I think my crew is starting to worry that I've completely lost it. They stand by waiting to see if one of them needs to jump in." He laughed, then gave you a warm smile, "But my hero never fails to rescue me."

You blushed, looking down shyly, "Well it would be a shame to let such a handsome sailor drown."

"You think I'm handsome?" He smirked, moving closer. The two of you were sitting in the rowboat his crew lowered for you, so it was easy for you to be this close without him drowning.

"I do," you blushed more.

His smile only widened before he leaned in and slowly captured your lips with his, one his warm hands gently gripping your chin as he kissed you. The butterflies returned, and you kissed him back just as slowly and sweetly as your hand rested on his arm.

"So we don't need to keep standing here every time the idiot throws himself overboard?" Someone called from above, breaking your kiss and making you both laugh.

"Not anymore, no. Because the idiot will NOT keep throwing himself overboard," you responded, smiling.

"But-"

"It's not worth dying Ace!"

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #one piece ace

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violetmina · 2 years ago

Text

Chokehold - Ch. 6

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,784

Warning: Swearing, mild violence and injury, nightmares, typical side effects of hangover, choking, biting, and our favorite - Butcher.

A/N: Once again, it’s too damn long. Thank you all so much for being patient. I have mixed feelings about this one, and I can only hope you find it worth the wait. Hopefully, I can get out of this PTSD funk and churn out the next ones much faster. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.

It's all a black void except the sidewalk pounding under your bare feet. It looks nothing like the neighborhood from months ago but you know you're running from the warehouse. You escaped this time. Or are you running to something? It's all too vague…

You're tripping up to your door, fumbling the lock. Your jiu jitsu belt is in your hand. There's a faint mist of red on one of its tails. Is it your blood? One of the crew? Your attacker? You don't know, you don't know, the door finally opens…

But it's not your place. It's granny's house, has to be, all rustic and moonlight carving through the dark like knives. It's the bedroom, yours but not yours, and you know this bed…

There's a loud boom, it makes the house shiver, and you shiver with it. You know that sound, and that voice calling out "come out, come out wherever you are!", like smiling snakes pressed against glass. Now your nose brushes against a windowpane, and he's there, eyes glowing amongst the trees, Prince Homelander…

A hand wraps round your wrist, tugs and you swim among sheets before the hand becomes an arm around your waist. "He won't find you, Red. Not with me." You shiver again but it's from the relief of warmth radiating behind you…

Then it's above you, Butcher's beard tickling your face as he kisses you, but there's something off with his lips. He travels down, down, hot wet kisses and scraping teeth - something off there - and when you go to reach for him you find he's tied your belt around your wrists, held fast above your head. They cannot move, you can feel your pulse bounding between your thighs when he reaches your hip, you're so eager but there's something off. "Butcher"...

He stops. And he's still. Too still. Something is wrong. "Oi…," a growl against your hip bone. And finally he lifts his eyes, gold and glaring in the dark, and you feel more than hear a growl not human at all. Then teeth, too many teeth, razors as he smiles, snarls, points glistening, too sharp. "Wait-!" He snaps them, hard into tender flesh-!

"Oi! Wake up!"

Your gasp is shrill as your eyes snap open, your brain scrambling to reorient. Butcher is there but there's no golden eyes. And it's not teeth bloodying your hip, but his grip is there. There is no red-eyed supe here. It's the motel. And it's day, sunlight instead of moonlight cutting through the curtains, over your eyes…

And then the pounding in your head begins.

Butcher smirks as you groan long into the pillow. "Morning, sunshine! 'Fraid you can't run from that hangover any longer."

"You woke me to torment me?"

"As amusing as it is, no. You were about to go ass over tits out of the sheets. Not dealing with you having a hangover and a concussion, thanks." He gives a little nod with a wink. "Must have been a helluva wet dream."

The images, still fresh and too raw for your pounding head, flash across your eyes and your bitten/not-bitten hip twitches under his fingers. "More like drunken nightmare," you mumble into the sheets, slowly rising on one arm.

You instantly regret the movement. You place a hand over your mouth, and thank god Butcher sees it in your face, because your hand will have to move. He kicks a trashcan in place under your head just in the nick of time. You're grateful when you feel fingers just brushing your hair back. Then it turns to ire at his expression. "Stop smiling, you jerk," you pant between waves.

He smirks more instead. "Oh c'mon now," he jeers. "You survived the night, didn't ya? You should celebrate. Drink up the spoils of your little plan -"

"I'll puke on your fucking boots," you spit into the trash.

Butcher only laughs, giving you a couple firm pats on the back that make you groan again. He sits down on his bed, arms resting on his knees as you wait for the last wave to pass. Thankfully, there wasn't much in your stomach to begin with and you slowly rise up from the trashcan, fumbling a tissue off the nightstand. You're surprised when he holds out a bottle of Gatorade with a shake to you. "Don't bitch about the flavor. The less dye and more bland, the better."

You give a slight grimace as you let him slip the bottle into your hand. But you sigh a thank you before cracking the top and take a tentative, minuscule sip. As you wait for your stomach's judgment, your eyes roam over him. He's in a fresh shirt, one nearly black with a far more subdued print, same dark jeans. But then you notice his old clothes in a heap behind him along with his coat, and there's red. His hair is slightly damp, and his hands -

"What happened?" Part of you chides yourself for the concern coloring your tone. Butcher has paraded bruised knuckles and bloody clothes like a peacock fans his feathers. But you can't help it.

"Well…" His gaze settles on your face as you take another cautious sip. Even though he appears unfazed, you know he's gauging you, reading you for any micro tells. He shrugs. "What's the last you remember?"

"I remember-" You stop. It's hazy around the edges. But you remember pretty much everything. You sacked out but didn't blackout. And you definitely remember Butcher putting you, flustered and slurring, to bed. You're not sure but by the way he's waiting too nonchalantly for your answer, he's not just thinking about the stake out.

The memory of your dream and the image of him looking up at you, fingers sliding up the back of your leg, collide in your mind's eye. You swallow hard as your stomach twitches at that and you fight the small wave of nausea that follows. It hits you that, whatever the hell happened last night, it should stay right where it was, dead at sunrise on the motel floor. You still had the day before you, and the drive back to the city, back to the others. And of course there was still the matter of Walsh, Vought in general, and your ongoing arrangement with Butcher. You didn't know how you could admit your full memory and just act normal after, especially during lessons. Not to mention, what if it had only been a weird moment for him, a split second of randy fueled by loneliness and grief? And if not, what if there was any of that heavy, heated look left in him? Something more?

You could find out, a little voice whispers.

No. Absolutely not. That's way more messy than you're willing to deal with right now, hungover or otherwise.

"I remember going to the bar," you say slowly. "And talking to Frank. You were hustling pool. I planted a bug, he ran off. And then there was some asshole, um…And then you were there and…" You dare a sheepish look at him. "...I think you walked me back to the motel. It's really fuzzy after the bar. At least, I hope that was you?"

Butcher stares at you for a long moment and you wonder if he sees through your lie. If he does, he doesn't acknowledge it and slowly nods instead. "Yeah, that was me. Lucky I have any toes left the way you was stumblin'," he mutters. "The bug was still snug in his collar when I made a little house call. You sure you remember what you two chatted on about?"

After a braver swallow of your drink, you give a thumbs up. "Yeah, uh, got some info, even with all of that god awful flirting he was spewing. He confirmed there's a Vought lab here. Not sure about coordinates but it's somewhere just south of town. He was trying to puff himself up, said he was working on some serious developments for the company. Something about broadening the market?"

"Got all that while he was trying to cop a feel, did ya? Anything else while he was drooling sweet nothings in your ear?"

His snide tone takes you aback. You had accomplished what you had set out to do. You got Frank to talk. For the life of you, you can't figure out why he's such a grump about it. "Wait…" You rub at your throbbing temples, confused. "I thought you found him? Didn't you get some intel, too?"

"You bet your ass I did," Butcher grins. "Turns out, Frank is quite the chatter once he's missing a few teeth and a couple fingernails. Including…" He slides a hand under his coat and pulls out a small folder with a little wave. "...Being so kind as to loan me some of his personal records."

He slaps the folder back onto his bed and stands. "C'mon," he barks, shrugging on his coat. "Scurry in there, wash last night off ya, and pop a couple tylenol. We're moving out in twenty."

"What if I puke in your car for rushing me?," you grumble, shuffling through your clean clothes as he starts packing his duffel. He pauses long enough to peg you with a hard look.

"You'll clean it up, of course. And your hangover will be a reprieve compared to what I'll do to you."

^^^

Despite feeling like utter dogshit, you did manage to freshen up, keep down a couple tylenol, and cram your stuff back into your bag in a timely manner. You had sunk into the car, ignoring his comment of taking five minutes too long, trying to keep the sun from stabbing in your eyes. But Butcher kept the ride silent, to your relief, and surprisingly short. You had expected him to peel out of the parking lot straight back to the city. Instead, he drove just a few miles down the road before swerving into a small diner before nudging you to follow him in.

Reluctantly leaving what comfort you found in the car, you scuffed behind him into the far back corner of the diner. Butcher claimed the seat opposite you - where he could overlook the whole place, you realized - and you slid into the snug booth. The diner was actually a little cozy, maybe in need of a decor update from the 90's, but clean. With only two or three other patrons about, the waitress was quick to get your orders and left the two of you in the quiet ambience of the morning bustle. If it weren't for the distinct company you were keeping, you'd say it felt damn near domestic.

Once the waitress had made her brief return with your drinks, you asked over the rim of your coffee, "Alright, Mr. Secrets. You've been smug nearly since we left. Spill it."

Butcher casts a quick glance about before sliding the folder across the table. "Hughie was right. They're cooking up some variations of V. After Sage Grove, though, they were supposed to be more hush-hush about it. Lazzell has been one of their busiest worker bees the last few months."

"Variations? You mean the temp stuff?"

Butcher shakes his head as you slowly thumb through the papers. "Originally, Lazzell and his other poncy lab buddies were supposed to make just the temp stuff. But what Vought don't know is they made some discoveries along the way."

He taps on one of the pages. It takes a minute with your impaired concentration but you finally start catching onto some keywords in the text. Subjects. Side effects. Heightened senses with lack of muscle load progression. Twilight sedation. Prototypes. Suggestions for alternative demographics in market.

Something scratches at the back of your brain but nothing more, and you sigh in frustration. "Help me out, Butcher. I'm a bit slow today. What is this exactly?"

He spots the waitress heading to your booth and snaps the folder shut, pushing it towards you to tuck away. Once your plates are before you and she leaves, he leans in with a grin. "Ol' Frankie was supposed to dispose of anything they brewed up that wasn't the temp shit the company wanted. But one of the cocktails had some results that he felt could be exploited. Now, you read those side effects for that batch again and tell me what that sounds like."

You take a small bite of toast - still taking it slow and easy on your stomach - and glance back over the words. "Well…Heightened senses. Dilated pupils. Elevated heart rate. Looks like the test group was split in half; either they had severe, even painful side effects coming down or experienced states of euphoria and -" You look up at him. "Is…is this a hallucinogen?"

"Yes and no," he slurs around a bite of eggs. You shake your head when he offers the greasy or butter soaked food on his plate with a teasing smile, knowing too well it's why you pause before braving your own food. "Read again."

You skim over the file. You almost sip on your coffee then stop. "They're all supes, no names. What is this?"

"He called it Persuasion," Butcher said in a hushed tone as he leaned in. "At first it was a flop, supe senses but no powers. Some had a nice little trip on it, others obviously not once the high wore off. They were gonna scrap it until a certain PR swung by. Said it could be tweaked."

"Tweaked how? For what?"

"When the world found out about compound V, what was one of the biggest selling points Vought lost?" When you come up at a blank, he says, "The world knows they're not God's chosen few. They're made in a fucking lab. Now, they can't shove that back in the box. But what if they do what those cunts do best and spin it in their favor? Say, for example…start making designer supes?"

You stare at him confused at first. Then it clicks. "Are you telling me this is a fucking aphrodisiac? For supes?"

The smile lends a sharper edge, cruel on his lips when your eyes widen. His voice is barely above a whisper. "Y/N, they've pumped that blue shit in babes since the 70's. They kidnapped two terrorists for their build-a-cunt supervillain idea. And Vogelbaum locked up my wife so that one day he could replace that test-tube fuckup with her son. He was all about genetics. Fucking breeding. What makes you think they wouldn't try it again with two supes, and a roster of over three hundred to cherry pick?"

You run a hand over your face. Then try to relax into your seat, remembering you're in public still. Picking at your egg and toast with a fork, you clear your throat. "So what about Walsh? Does the company know since they were supposed to throw this out? Did Frank know where we could get samples?"

Butcher's response is on the tip of his tongue when a vehicle catches his eye in the window. When you turn your head, you just glance a police cruiser before he snaps under his breath, "Eyes on me."

Tension seeps into your frame despite your best efforts. You take a quick bite of toast then mutter just aloud enough, "What is it?" You want to press but then realize one little detail; your FBSA status only gives you immunity in the field if you're on the books. And this is not on the books. When he takes too long to chew, you swallow thickly. "Butcher…Were you seen last night?"

"Don't think so," he mutters into his coffee.

"Don't think or don't know?!," you hiss.

His fingers suddenly clasp your hand across the table. You hear the door open behind you across the diner as his eyes lock on yours. "Keep your fucking voice down," he rumbles calmly. But the edge in it is laced with as much warning as his grip.

There's a long moment as you listen to two officers exchange familiar greetings with the waitress, then shuffle after her to another table somewhere on the other end of the diner. After forcing a few more bites of food, Butcher grabs your attention, sliding the car keys into your hand. He bears the mask of having a normal, morning chat, but his voice is eerily even-keeled.

"Could just be stuffing their faces but we're not gonna risk it. Take the file and walk out to my car, real mellow like. Keep your head down. Put the keys in, get it ready. If I'm not out in ten, you drive the hell outta here. Do not fucking wait. Switched the plates this morning, so that should buy you some time."

"How am I going to get you out?," you whisper.

"You don't. If I'm not back by nightfall, you go straight to the Boys." Before you can fight back the sudden aftertaste of Gatorade and breakfast to form words, he throws a charming smile at the waitress as she strolls back to you. "You've been a doll, but I'm ‘fraid I need the check. You're too kind."

When she walks away, Butcher's boot on your shin rudely jolts you into action. You sweep up the file and your things, prying yourself out of the booth. You use your phone as an excuse to duck your eyes down and keep yourself from running for the exit. It takes a lot of your nerve to not look up and see whose eyes you feel on you, Butcher's or the cops'. But you swing out the front and wince through the sunlight to the car, doing your best not to scratch the paint as you fumble with the keys.

Sitting in the driver's seat of Butcher's car feels wrong, though you can't put your finger on why. It's a long, uncomfortable several minutes of flexing your sweaty grip on the steering wheel. The idea of driving his car back alone, without him, somehow makes you think of a hearse. But the morbid image dissipates with a sigh of relief when he swaggers out of the diner and yanks open the driver door.

"Scoot the fuck outta my captain seat," he snaps, but the shove he gives your shoulder is almost playful, as is the the corner of his lip. You scramble awkwardly into the passenger side, and in moments he swings the car past the cruiser, out of the lot, and down the road.

The pain in and around your head is a drumbeat that calls up your irritation, replacing the frayed nerves from the diner. When you can no longer see it in the rear view, you turn to him. "You never answered me, Butcher. Were you seen? Are we wanted?"

"I already answered that and I don't like repeating myself."

"Bullshit," you scowl.

"Look," he sighs, eyes tight with annoyance. "I checked Frank's place for cameras, bugs, the works. But it's leased under Vought, so there's always a slight chance they could come snooping around. And he's not exactly gonna be calling into work anytime soon. So there's that."

"So that back there was just…precaution?"

Butcher nods. "You could say that. Besides, when it comes to wanted, I would have an APB. Not you. You were snoring it off last night."

"Butcher, he still saw my face. He…"

You stop, feeling both stupid and startled as he casts you a look across the seat. Asking him if he had been seen when he had interrogated Frank was clearly a pointless question. Frank had seen you both. Which -.

"You had a little problem. I took care of it. And we got the job done."

"Right," you nod. "Right…" You trail off, his flat, ambiguous tone leaving you dry of words. You try to get comfortable as Butcher guides the car onto I-87 south, and you nurse your hangover instead of further conversation.

You know far too well the man next to you is a killer. You've seen him bloody his hands and face to save you, even just months ago at the warehouse. It's part of the job and certainly part of him. It's not a pleasant truth, but it's settled in your mind over time. But what bothers you is that it doesn't bother you. And you're not sure what that means for you, now.

^^^

By the time you had reached the edges of the city, you had wrangled your hangover into a mild headache and a bit of dehydration. While the Cadillac had swallowed up the miles, you two had come to the consensus to stop at your place instead of the flatiron and go back through Frank's files one more time. MM or Hughie could be at the office, and it was best to keep the pretense that you were sick and Butcher wouldn't be back till the next day or so.

Evening had wrapped around your apartment by the time you slipped through your front door. After dropping your bag in your bedroom to unpack later, you stepped into your living room to find Butcher on the couch, one arm draped across the back. The file sits on your coffee table, his coat crumpled in your loveseat. Something catches the light between his fingers in his other hand.

"What's that?"

"What I was gonna show you earlier. You were asking about samples?" Butcher tosses the item and you narrowly catch it between your palms. Plopping down beside him, you inspect it. It's a small vial. At first, the contents appear clear like water. But as you roll it between your fingers the light catches again, revealing the hint of swirling silver inside.

"This it? That Persuasion stuff?"

Butcher nods. "There were four in his office. Mine for safekeeping, now. Walsh has been buying batches of that supe viagra off Frank for a pretty penny, but not for Vought."

"That doesn't make any sense. If Frank made this for Vought for their genetics experiment, why isn't Walsh sending it to them? The company might give them a slap on the wrist for making it in the first place, sure. But if the company isn't aware of it -"

"Then who's using it," Butcher finishes. "And what the fuck for. Yeah, that's what I wanna know, too."

You place the vial back in Butcher's palm, mentally shaking off the feel of his calluses as your fingertips brush across them. Clearly, I'm near back to my normal if those thoughts are resurfacing, you thought dryly.

But it's not normal anymore. He caught you last night. He knows, the little voice hisses.

Butcher doesn't know shit! You were drunk, that's what he knows.

Your mental debate is there and gone in less than a second. Shaking your head, you refocus on the file before you on the table. "Do we have any more leads? Anything specifically on our PR friend?"

"Not in here," Butcher replies, scratching his beard. "Unless you got better eyes than me. Lazzell made sure not to leave any receipts on their little personal transactions. But there might be something."

He pushes the papers out across your table for you two to pour over them. You skim over the papers for any sign of a direct connection to Walsh or Vought other than the lab. But you have no such luck, even after several minutes. Just more recordings, data of what you assume is the quicksilver junk in the vial. Despite your best efforts, you end up fixing on the results of a less than successful batch.

"This crap is really iffy," you mutter. "This round here they compared with regular people, no supes. Lazzell's personal notes are kinda hard to read in places but…It sounds like supes metabolize this stuff differently. It's more of a trippy sedative for the rest of us. And the coming down is a coin toss. Either you just end up groggy for a couple days, or you go through hell."

"What? Have a bad trip, did they?," Butcher grunts, dropping the papers in his hands on the piles to stand.

"Apparently they experienced physical and psychosomatic symptoms. Nerve pain exacerbated by stress? Hallucinations? He quotes one of the test subjects as describing the pain of being split in two in their soul. If you don't call that a bad trip, I don't know what else you call it."

"A night at Coachella?," Butcher quirks as he bends down by your loveseat.

"Whoa, Butcher! What the hell are you doing with my furniture?," you ask, scrambling up from the couch as he suddenly starts dragging the loveseat across the floor.

"Looks like we'll have to see what the rest of the crew dig up. And for Hughie to pull his head out of his ass. Not much else we can do with this until then, or I find something else myself."

You sweep in between him when he turns to the arm of your defenseless couch. "I guessed that much. But what does that have to do with my furniture?"

"Well we can't sneak up to the office tonight, now can we? So unless your bedroom is big enough to roll in-"

"Wait. Roll?" One of your eyebrows pitches up at him before you let out a laugh. "Oh, I get it. Very funny. I'm sure you and I both have had enough the last-"

"Am I laughing?"

Your smile fades as he pitches an eyebrow back. "Oh c'mon. It's been a long twenty-four hours or so. I'm not completely with it yet, and you've got to be getting tired, Butcher. Have you even slept yet?" You shift to sidestep him for the loveseat. "Lets-"

His fingers clutch tight and jolt you back by the arm before you can pass him. His eyes flash sharp as flint. "Less than twenty-four hours ago, some bastard had your wrist just like this. You forgot what I taught ya, and I had to swoop in and save your ass like a fucking supe. I may have told you I wouldn't let you drown. But I'm not fixing to start wearing a fucking cape and tights!"

You spread your fingers wide and use the escape he'd taught you the week prior. But Butcher seizes the other wrist in a flash, and takes one long stride, pinning your knees against the arm of the couch. He cuts you off when you go to object. "Remembering now, are we? We had a deal. I let you tag along up north and you show me that you could use your training properly. Bullocks'd that up, didn't you?"

"I was drunk-!"

"I don't. Fucking. Care. You want me to put you in Hughie's good graces? Huh?" When you just scowl in response, he pulls back and turns you both out to the living room. "Then you better start warming up."

You glare at his back as he starts dragging the couch to make room. Biting back suggestions for him to get his mood swings checked, you take a deep breath and turn to your coffee table. Frank's papers back in their folder and tucked away in the corner with your table, you begin to stretch on the floor, much to your muscles chagrin.

"Yesterday," Butcher calls as he rolls his neck and shoulders, "You pointed out that we haven't covered a whole lot of offense. And we'll get there. But last night clearly demonstrated that you need to work on a little more defense this week."

"Maybe if I had a little more offense that wouldn't have happened…," you muttered into the carpet as you stretched your hips.

"You say something?"

"What do you have in mind, sensei?"

"I thought that's what you said."

Before you can blink, Butcher yanks on the back of your pants and flips you onto your back. He shifts quickly to straddle your waist but you scramble and wrap him into closed guard on instinct. Sitting back on his heels, he begins to move his elbows down to meet the tender targets by your knees. But you squeeze tight and pull him forward. When he posts an arm out to catch his balance, he nods.

"Well, I guess you didn't forget everything after all. And you're getting better at maintaining closed guard. Maybe you'd done just fine on your back," he mutters.

Annoyance quickly floods into anger at his implication. And patience quickly flees the room. You lock your thighs even tighter, shove his bracing hand out while yanking on his shirt with your other hand. When he catches himself mere inches from your face you snap, "I don't know what your issue is with me today, or the deal with these snide remarks. But you can tell me what it is, or you can keep your bullshit to yourself and actually teach me something."

Butcher glares at you and the little chill on the back of your neck tells you that that may have been unwise. He pries your fingers from his lapel and sits up slowly, bracing himself with palms on either side of your head.

"You are my fucking issue," he rumbles through tight lips. "I've been generous giving you these lessons, hours I coulda put on cases, or used on bringing down the Seven. Hours I can't get back! And sloshed or not, you couldn't even use what I fucking gave ya!"

"Yes, hours neither of us can get back!," you snap up at him. "Hours that amount to what? Was I supposed to be a master with two, maybe three months of training?"

Butcher leans up to the full extent of his arms, eyes moving to bore a hole somewhere far past your head. He won't say it out loud, but you can feel him concede to your point with gritted teeth. Even with a knack for it, lack of experience is still lack of experience. After a beat, he gives a tight exhale and looks down at you.

"You really wanna bump this up, do ya? Alright. If you're so keen on offense, show me one choke you can do from right here."

With a suspicious squint, you look him over, assessing for an approach to attack. But you shake your head. "I didn't get very far before you so generously took over my lessons."

"Come off it," Butcher squints back. "You were rolling, weren't ya? With my arms straight out, I'm practically giving you two or three!" When you shake your head, his face withers with exasperation. "Christ, I can't believe I'm gonna let you do this…You know what a triangle choke is, don't ya?"

You can't help the surprise look that takes over you. Of all the chokes in the world, why did he have to pick that one? "I kind of know the mechanics," you mutter. "Never done it though."

Butcher nods and sits back on his heels, moving his hands to rest on your abdomen. "A lot of times I'm going to push right here in your guts or against your hips to post up, keep you from grabbing for my head and neck. If I'm not careful though, I'm giving you something to tug on. Grab one of my wrists."

You pick his right, still eyeing him for any sudden movements. Just don't think too hard about this, you tell yourself. It's just a self-defense technique. Don't make it weird. It's just-

That little voice giggles from the back of your mind. Just Butcher's head about to be clamped between your-

"Take your other hand and pin my left as tight against my hip as you can," Butcher continues, unaware of your inner dialogue. "You're trying to get my left arm out. Now you're gonna let your guard open just enough that you can swing your right leg over my shoulder. Once it's there, plant your left foot on my hip."

It's uncomfortable letting your guard open after teaching yourself to keep it tight all the times previous. And you ignore the different level of uncomfortable swinging your leg over his broad shoulder. With just a slight shift, you're able to plant your other foot on his belt.

"If I sit up straight, you're gonna lose me. So keep in mind that this has to be done fast. Keep that grip on my wrist, grab the tricep of that same side and pull it as tight across your hip as you can. Point is to keep me off-center and where you can reach me."

You do as prompted and Butcher's weight slips fully between your hips and lower abdomen. It's just a triangle, it's just a triangle, it's just a triangle. Don't make it weird.

"You kept hold of my wrist, that's good. You don't want me to take my arm back. I take my arm back, you're in serious trouble. Pushing with that foot on my hip, you're gonna pivot so you can move this leg from my shoulder to go right across the back of my neck. Then lock it in by clamping your left knee over your ankle. Understand?"

"I think so. Push, pivot, calf behind neck, lock it down with other knee."

"Yes. Now it's important that once your legs are locked, you pull down on the back of my head with your free hand. Cinches it in." He takes a deep breath. "Alright. Let's see you do it."

With a deep breath of your own, you push on his hip, shifting, pulling. It takes a second but you finally get your leg behind his head, and with a little effort you move from his hip to locking it in. You squeeze, trying to pull your legs back into yourself as if he isn't there. His face quickly flushes, and when Butcher gasps a guttural "fuck!" before tapping, you can't help a snicker.

"Sorry," you rasp as he catches his breath. "I just wasn't expecting that reaction."

"I knew I shouldn't have let you done it!," he snaps. "I know you ladies tend to have better lower body strength but fucking hell! And you still messed up!"

"What?! You were about to turn into a tomato! How did I mess up?"

"I told you. You got to pull on the back of my head! Do not let me have me head!"

"But that-"

He hooks your knees and slides you back into closed guard. "Again," he barks. "Do it faster. And do it right this time."

You glare at him for a moment and finally move when he starts pushing his hands into your guts. You snatch his wrist, shoving his other arm out of the way. It's clunky, uncoordinated but you sling your leg behind his head again, locking in the triangle. Still irritated and the edge of your hangover lingering, you decide to squeeze your thighs tighter, ignoring his head to pull down your own leg. With petty satisfaction, you watch his face begin to rapidly change shades again. His eyes flare up at you. Then suddenly they give a wicked glint as he tries to twist in your hold and-

You let out a gasp bordering on a yelp, dropping your locking leg to kick hard against his shoulder. He flops back onto his elbows as you skitter across the carpet. When you stop just out of his reach, gripping your thigh, you realize the bastard is laughing. "I told you not to let me have me head."

"You bit me!" Your fingers rub across the faintest of teeth marks on the fabric across your inner thighs. "You bit me! The fuck, Butcher?!"

"You seem quick to forget that I'm not training you for sportsmanlike conduct, sweetheart," he calls after you from the floor as you jump to your feet, heading for better lighting. "Out in the real world, an attacker will do anything they can before they pass out. Which is why you gotta keep control."

You're only half listening at this point. You feel a dampness you're uncertain is from Butcher, sweat, or blood, and the little needles of panic prickle you like the burn of his teeth. Without any other thought you pull the top of your pants just low enough to inspect. To your short relief, the skin is unbroken. But there's no mistaking the curve of already darkening red on your thigh, feeling hot as a brand.

"See?" Butcher's drawl seizes your attention where he's still propped on his elbows. You catch his eyes moving from your exposed skin to your face with a lazy expression. "Not so bad…was it, love?"

It suddenly rushes over you - the night before, the wolf Butcher of your nightmare, the real one sprawled out on your floor with those damn eyes, the burning in your skin, the warmth you've been trying to deny pooling in you since you realized what he did - and the little voice comes dashing from the dark parts of your mind. As you stare wide-eyed back at him a most unholy thrill shoots through you and-!

"Get out."

"Easy, darlin'. Just had to teach you a lesson, eh? We still got-"

"I don't care what you think we have to cover!," you bite out, yanking your pants back into place. "I am done tonight! Done!"

"Alright, alright. Settle down," he rolls his eyes, slowly shifting up from the floor. But when his jacket slaps him hard in the face, he's suddenly on his feet.

"Take Lazzell's shit with you. And get out," you snarl. You feel the air shift about him as he rips on his jacket and knowing he'll be on you, you spin on your heel and storm to the front door. You snatch it open and turn just in time to push your back against the wall as he invades your space.

"You wanted to up the ante, but you can't handle when it gets a little rough?," he grits down at you.

"I asked you to teach me what you promised! Not fucking bite me like-!"

"Like what? Hmm?" Butcher's glare pins you to the wall just as thoroughly as the hands fisted at his sides. When you only mirror it back at him, he sneers, "Go on. Say it."

"Like that," you spit.

"That's not what you were gonna say. Fucking say it."

An animal, the little voice purrs. A wolf, all the better to eat you with…

But you don't. You won't. You should have known he didn't believe your lie that morning. And now he's calling you on it. But you'd be damned if you'd say it. You can't because if you do, if you say it sober, admit your lie to him right now…you're done for. And the aftermath is daunting.

Butcher huffs, still sneering as you remain stubbornly tight-lipped. "What's your real issue with me today, hm?"

Any sense of caution you have left evaporates and you snatch your fingers into his collar. His reflexes are quicker and he prevents you from getting a proper choke. But you hook one foot behind his ankle and manage to throw him off balance just enough. You throw all your weight towards the doorway and he stumbles backwards through. The second you release his collar you leap back with a "fuck you!". You slam the door as he lunges and if he doesn't collide with it, he must have only narrowly avoided it. You just as narrowly slide the first lock home when he tries the handle, and your back slides down the door once the rest are in place.

You wait for the pounding of his fist, but it's almost as startling that it never comes. It's like you can feel it just hovering before your door. You think you hear Butcher on the other side, but it's hard to tell if the heavy breathing is his or yours.

I'll huff, and I'll puff…

After a long moment, you are certain you hear him curse. Then his heavy boots storming away. When your ears no longer hear anything but the hum of electricity in your apartment and city white noise, you rise to your feet again. Adrenaline and that damn thrill still fizzling in your blood makes you feel like you might be shaking, or on the verge of it. And your damn thigh burns the hottest.

Later, - after you finally find the appetite to muster an excuse of dinner, after you slide into bed with heavy eyes - like the tempting itch of a fresh tattoo, you have to fight your fingers from tracing and retracing Butcher's bite mark. You're uncertain if your last thought before drifting off is to him or yourself;

What the hell have you done?

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year ago

Text

Corrupted, Chapter Four: Watched - a Malevolent x TMA fic

Tim's been treading, head above water, for a while now. He had hoped to find help.

That’s not really what the Magnus Institute does.

AO3

——-

Tim leaves early.

Navigating empty streets at night is one thing. This is heading into west London right at the beginning of the work day, and he will take no chances. Beyond all the ones he can’t avoid, anyway.

John’s navigation, however, is flawless. Slow down a little. Good. The step is higher than that—good.

On the bus without incident. Amazing.

And then it’s very weird, because Tim is used to scrolling his phone on public transit, and he obviously can’t do that now—but it gives him an idea. He rummages in his backpack.

What are you doing? John sounds curious.

Tim finds what he’s searching for by feel. “Ah, ha!” he says, and uncoils a white cord with earbuds. “There,” he says, plugging into his phone. “Thank you, Past Tim, Pack-Rat Extraordinaire. Now I can talk without looking crazy. Just on the phone, ma’am, nothing to see here.”

Very smart, John says. I’m impressed.

“Modern technology, eh?” says Tim. “Modernish, anyway. Speaking of which, you don’t seem to be struggling very hard with things like cell phones and rideshares. You’d been here before. Recently.”

Have I? Tim, there are so many worlds, so many timelines, so many dimensions. I’ve seen technology you would never believe—and magic that made it all irrelevant.

What an answer. “And you’re humble about it, too,” Tim says. “Also, you’re deflecting. You know movie titles. Not that Tim Curry doesn’t deserve multiverse fame, but you knew who that was.”

Such a clever man, John purrs, and Tim shifts in his seat, unwillingly affected. I see I will have to watch what I say around you.

“Deflecting. Again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, facing the window. “You must be kind of rare, whatever you are. If the world were full of things like you, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

Really.

Amused. That’s that tone. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t everybody?”

Because for most of us, it’s far more entertaining and useful when humans don’t know what’s watching them from the shadows.

“Okay, so that’s really ominous,” says Tim. “Worse than ‘a being.’ Positively malevolent. Still not gonna tell me what you are?”

No.

Tim sighs. “So. Anything interesting out the window?”

Quite a lot, actually. And John proceeds to describe what he sees.

Tim would absolutely have bought the audio with this guy narrating London for tourists.

John manages to make ordinary shops and red mailboxes interesting. He describes people Tim knows he would never have even noticed on his own. He manages to make London feel like a thriving, vividly energetic throng, a place of potential, not just a crowded, expensive place to work.

It almost feels like part of a life worth living. Maybe it’s time to face the fact that he has no plans. The house selling is great, but he is going to need another job—and yeah, Nigel is probably not going to give him a recommendation.

Tim should care about that more than he does.

You’re drifting, says John.

“Sorry. Just… trying to think about things. Future. Employment. All those boring human details.”

I see. What are you thinking?

“You actually want to know?”

I do, Tim.

Tim slouches comfortably, sliding low in his seat. “Sure. Well, I worked in publishing. I’m a really good editor. But… I don’t know anymore.”

Looking for a change?

“Needing one, honestly.” He swallows around the tightness in his throat. “I was thinking about when I quit, and nobody… nobody really cared. I haven’t been happy for a while, you know? And they say you’re not supposed to make any major changes like quitting your job or selling your house or getting married for a year after bereavement, but, uh. I’m two for three, and it hasn’t even been a month.”

I see. You feel the need to keep moving, John observes, low. The type of creature which, if it ceases swimming, will drown.

Tim shivers. “Wow. Never been called whatever that is before.”

A shark. This is our stop.

Tim laughs. “Shark? I am so not a shark.” Somehow, he manages to exit the bus without running into anyone or banging his head, and exhales in relief. “Right. Which way?”

I’m not sure. There are a lot of old buildings here, but not much signage. Walk forward. More to your left.

It’s like a trust game, Tim thinks. Like something to do with your brother one boring summer afternoon, one of you blindfolded and the other giving directions and accidentally-on-purpose steering you into things.

Sure. That makes it less scary. Right.

Ha! There we go. I see a small, brass sign that says, MAGNUS INSTITUTE 1818. Perfect. And—oh, Tim.

“What?”

This is a place of power. The way John says that… deeper, richer, absolutely eager.

Tim shivers. “Power? What kind of power? Is that good?”

Perhaps. I’ve never had trouble with this particular Power. I believe I am safe.

“You sure you’re as anonymous as you think?”

The moment you made that phone call, Tim, you bet both our lives. If I thought this were truly a danger, I would have said so.

“Sure, put it on me,” he mutters. “How far?”

Stairs starting… now.

There are more stairs than Tim expected. They’re wide and shallow, just a little awkward to climb. “Does it look spooky?”

It’s a temple, John breathes. Oh… I knew it was old, but I didn’t expect this. The one worshiped here has been worshiped here for a long time. Door.

Tim feels for the handle, tugs. Of course, it’s still locked. “Guess we’ll just have to loiter for a bit. You know, in front of the scary pagan temple in the middle of London. What time does my phone say?”

Seven. We’re an hour early. Heh. And pagan doesn’t cover it.

“Sure. Well, better early than—”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” comes a posh baritone.

Tim, there’s a… oh.

Tim wonders what that oh was for. “Hi. I, uh. I need to see someone inside. Kind of an emergency.”

The posh man huffs, like an irritated cat. “Well, we don’t… this is a place of research, so I’m not sure what you expect in an emergency.”

He’s a slight person, shorter than you, much narrower. Brown skin; I’d think mixed South Asian ancestry. He’s slightly overdressed for the weather; shirt, vest, sweater over that. He’s managing to look down his nose at you in spite of his height. But Tim… he’s been claimed, branded by the thing that calls this its base of power, in a messy, undisciplined way. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. It’s like he’s accidentally a priest.

So that’s the oh. Tim wonders how the hell one can accidentally be a priest. “Well, I need to, uh. What was it the website said? Give my statement?”

There is an irritated sigh. “Well, you might as well come in. I can at least give you a place to wait until Gertrude arrives—ah, Ms. Robinson, the head Archivist.” The voice is moving away, accompanied by the sound of keys. “I’m Jonathan Sims. In research.”

“Tim Stoker. In trouble.”

He hunched when you said that. I believe he feels more for our emergency than he wants to let on.

“Sorry to hear that,” researcher-Jon mutters. “But as I said, I’m not sure what we can do. Police?”

“Not for this, mate. But thanks, anyway.”

Correct to the left a bit. He’s holding the door for you. Ahead of us is an enormous, open lobby with old marble and dark wood. It’s beautiful, elegant. I see no furniture or anything else to trip you. To the left and right are the stacks going out of sight in the gloom. Clearly, at least part of this building is a library.

Their footsteps echo. It smells like books.

“What’s your statement regarding?” drawls researcher-Jon, audibly trying to be polite.

“A horrible book that ruined my life,” says Tim.

He’s stopped walking and is staring at you, abruptly pale, the arrogance dropped away like a mask. Oh, you’ve got his attention now.

“What?” says researcher-Jon. “What did you say? A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Did it have… a bookplate in front?” says researcher-Jon.

Tim can feel himself going pale, too. “Yeah. It said, ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner.’”

“Oh, gods,” says researcher-Jon. “You… you’ve…”

He looks afraid, Tim, and—oh!

Those oh exclamations were, Tim was beginning to realize, far more important than any casual fuck or damn.

“Jon?” comes another voice, posh, somehow managerial. “Well, I’m used to you being here early, but who’s your…” The voice stops.

Oh!

Tim is about ready to strangle something over those oh’s.

“Elias, he’s touched a Leitner,” says researcher-Jon.

“I understand. I’ll handle this one,” says the man.

“I was going to make sure Gertrude—”

“Jon,” says the man, in a quiet, uncompromising tone. “I will handle this. Go on, now.”

“All right, all right. Good luck, Tim.” Researcher-Jon sounds like he means it, and he leaves, Oxfords clacking away.

“Thanks,” Tim calls after him.

Tim, this has to be the high priest of this place. Its power, its marking, is all over him.

“Elias Bouchard.” There’s a pause.

He’s holding out his hand. He’s a couple decades older than you. Expensive suit. Handsome in a boring sort of way. And he’s powerful. Oh, Tim, he’s powerful.

“The head honcho, eh?” says Tim, and reaches.

The handshake is firm and not spooky, so that much is good.

“Can you navigate?” says Bouchard.

“What?” says Tim.

And Bouchard’s voice is low. “I can clearly see that whatever… that is inside you has done something to your eyes—which is to say, you are blind. Do you wish for guidance to my office? I completely understand if you’re more comfortable making your own way.”

He… can see me? John sounds stunned.

“You see him?” says Tim in a small voice.

“I do. He’s… my, my, my.”

He’s not supposed to be able to see me, John says with a slight tremor.

Tim’s not feeling fear. Relief and shock and desperation rise up his throat like vomit, and he has to swallow emotions down before he can talk. He is not insane. External validation. His eyes leak, and he wipes them. “Can you help? This happened last night. You can see him. What’s—”

“Good morning, Mister Bouchard!” comes a cheerful tenor.

A tall, overweight man, surprisingly light on his toes, with bright red hair and a charming smile.

“Martin, good morning,” says Bouchard. “Mister Stoker, was it? Please come with me. We’d best deal with this in my office.”

Tim, you didn’t tell him your name.

True. And unnerving. “Okay,” Tim says, wary. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your passenger is not all I can see. Come along, please.”

Well. John had said they’d read his mind here.

I’m familiar with avatars of this particular Power, but this is an unusual level of skill. Be cautious.

Great! “Well, that simplifies things, right? At least I’ll be believed,” says Tim with cheer he does not feel.

“Refreshingly pragmatic,” says Bouchard.

Yeah, this was lovely.

Follow the sound of his shoes. We’re passing a secretary’s desk. His office is straight ahead. Tim, this man’s body isn’t as old as he is. He’s confusing to look at.

“What’s that mean?”

Bouchard ignores Tim’s mutters. “Here we are.”

The sound of a door closing behind Tim feels… weird. Very weird. He feels stared at. Ganged up on? Prickly, like he has to defend himself, or—

“Please, Mister Stoker, have a seat.”

Tim feels for the chair. “Do you think you can help us?”

There is a pause.

He’s seated at the desk. His hands are folded, and his gaze is… intense.

“Well, can you blame me?” says Bouchard. “You are truly magnificent.”

Tim is confused for the moment it takes him to realize who was just addressed.

John gasps. You can hear me?

“Yes. I simply had to… adjust a few details. Tilt the radar dish, play with the bunny-ears—ah, but you’re too young for those references, aren’t you, Mister Stoker?”

And Tim can feel two very distinct things.

One: John is afraid. Being seen and heard has shaken him; finding out why is definitely going to come up after this.

Two: Tim knows he’s being subtly mocked. The weird, watched sensation has grown, making him feel judged, and he really, really wants to make it stop. “I’m not a kid, for crying out loud. I know what a television antenna is.”

If you can hear me, then I highly suggest you stop siphoning him, John growls.

“What?” Tim blurts.

“My apologies,” Bouchard sounds positively silky. “My patron craves your fear. Can I get you some tea?”

Tim is frozen. “My fear?”

John growls. Full-on growls, and it is not remotely a human sound, and it is huge, and absolutely frightening. Back. Off.

“I’m afraid I have no such control over it,” says Bouchard, standing. “The Eye doesn’t have much in the way of personality—only hunger. However, if Mister Stoker does manage to calm down, the Eye will have no use for him. He’ll practically be invisible to it.”

“The Eye? What? Like a giant eyeball?” Tim stammers.

“Quite. I’ll be back with that tea. Take a moment, will you? Breathe deeply. You’ll be just fine.”

Bouchard leaves, and Tim resists the urge to wipe himself down as if the man’s words had been coated in oil. “It’s a big eyeball god?” he says.

Something like that. What we are dealing with is a Power—an Entity that lives on fear.

“What the fucking hell?”

You need to calm the fuck down.

“Oh, sure, I’ll just hit the calm the fuck down button,” says Tim. “Maybe I should’ve asked for something stronger than tea.”

John sighs. Then he flips that smooth, warm, absolutely devastating voice into action.You’re going to be all right. He told you what to do to avoid his Power’s hunger. Just take a minute, and breathe with me, all right? In. Out. Slower.

Fucking dom, Tim thinks, but does it. “This place is actually trying to making me feel watched, isn’t it?”

I believe so. But you’re handling it like a champ. In. Out. There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.

It does feel better. “No, I guess not.”

I told you—you can trust me, Tim.

Tim snorts. “Opportunist.”

Bouchard returns. “Hold out your hand.”

Tim finds himself with a cup of tea. He closes his eyes, sipping. “Thanks. That makes me feel human again.”

“Of course. Now. Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”

His fingers are steepled. He’s watching us without blinking.

“Spooky,” says Tim before he can help himself.

Bouchard laughs lightly. “I serve a patron that feeds on fear. I’m afraid that whatever else I offer, comfort will not be on the menu.”

Tim’s heart sinks. “But… can you help?”

“Let’s find out. What happened?”

Tim takes out the book.

Careful, John warns. Open that, and it will again send out a— oh. He’s leaning away from it. Tim, he looks terrified.

“Well,” says Bouchard. “That is… ah..”

Tim already hates touching this thing. It may be psychosomatic, but now it feels terrible, greasy, like living skin. “What? What do you see?”

“I am going to make a guess,” says Bouchard slowly. “The passenger in your head was in this book first. Yes?”

“Yes,” says Tim.

“There is something else in that book. I would heavily advise you not to open it again.”

What? What? There is no other being in this book.

“I assure you, there is,” says Bouchard.

Impossible, John says as if offended.

“I assure you, it is not,” says Bouchard.

“So what do I do?” says Tim. “There’s got to be something I can do.”

And though he cannot see Bouchard looking at him, Tim suddenly feels pinned. Feels very distinctly like this man just reached into his brain and peeled it open, revealing everything he is.

John growls again.

“I will be frank,” says Bouchard. “I do not yet have an answer, but I believe I can find one. I have at my disposal quite a lot of knowledge, as well as some truly interesting contacts. I am willing to leverage all of that to help you in exchange for the freedom to watch how it all pans out.“

Tim’s not sure what that means. “What do you mean, watch how it all pans out?”

His eyes lidded just at the thought.

“I will give you much more than aid. I will give you answer. Any I find.”

Tempting. “You must really like to watch, eh?” Tim says, trying not to make it sound sexual.

“You have no idea,” Bouchard says, not trying to avoid that at all. “I’ve never seen the like. A new thing, to my patron, is the highest form of offering, and I am quite eager to help you. You rather have me over the proverbial barrel, Mister Stoker.”

He’s leaning back again, considering us. His fingers are still steepled. It’s a thoughtful look, pensive, as if he’s weighing something.

“You are in need of a job,” he says.

Spooky mind-reading confirmed! Tim thinks, slightly panicked. “I... will in time, sure.”

“I could employ you.”

Tim snorts. “No offense, but this place feels really weird.”

“It does, yes—but it’s also very safe.”

“Not according to every nerve in my body,” says Tim.

“The paranoia and fear are side effects of proximity to the Ceaseless Watcher. They are not representative of actual danger,” says Bouchard. “Working here would grant you some… protections, as well.”

“I don’t know quite how we got to offering my CV to a fear-god, but no thanks?” says Tim. “Got at least a few months before I’m that desperate, I think.”

“And do you plan to remain occupied that long?” says Bouchard.

Tim goes silent.

Can you help or not? I want something definitive. Your god is impressive, but this man is mine, and if you think I’m going to share—

“Hold the fuck on!” says Tim. “What?”

Bouchard laughs. “It’s all right. Mister Stoker. I’m fairly sure he’s just responding to the invasiveness of my patron—for which I do apologize. Do you have a safe place to stay?”

“Sure?” says Tim, still fighting against the absolute certainty of being watched, against the weirdness of his desire to rage in response.

“Would you be willing to leave that book with me?”

Absolutely not.

“But what if he can see inside it without opening it, or something?” says Tim.

No .

That growl is really something.

Tim takes a deep breath. “Hey. What does John look like?”

John has no body of his own to stiffen, but Tim feels him do it, anyway.

“Well,” says Bouchard, eyes lidding. “I see him in two ways. First is an impression—I suspect his own of himself. Whispers of the form he once had; catastrophically beautiful, like a terrible storm. Darker than mere absence of light, as if he might absorb it. There is gold throughout—I can’t quite make out the shape, but it is a very specific and almost harsh yellow. He seems to have… how shall I put this… the essence of a body that simply is not human. Multiple limbs, perhaps tentacles. Enormous horns or antlers, casting spined shadows. And I think he was quite large. All of that, however, is echo. What do I see when I look at him? The reverse of a flame. Dark, and hungry; fluttering and flickering like conflagration dancing in the wind, and significantly more dangerous than he seems. Given the right fuel, I daresay he could burn the world.”

Tim is silent.

John is silent.

“Wow,” says Tim.

There is a fabric rustle, and Tim suspects Bouchard has shrugged as if to say, Well, there it is.

“You really see all that?” said Tim.

“I do.”

“What the hell is he?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’re very lucky. Whatever you're experiencing may have no precedent in this world.”

John is still silent.

Tim sighs. “So… what now?”

“Well, I suggest food that is not peanut butter? And keeping your head down. If you truly wish to keep the book, I think there may be a target on you. I can’t offer you protection outside my place of power.”

Tim snorts. “Well, unless you’ve secretly got an apartment complex in here, it wouldn’t do me much good, anyway.”

“Actually, we do, in a way.”

“What?”

“My employees are… hard-working. Part of the archive below has been converted. There is a small sleeping area, a washroom, a very minimal kitchenette. Should things grow desperate, you have my permission to kip there, as it were.”

“You really want to watch all this, don’t you?” says Tim.

“Indeed I do. And while I readily confess I will be watching anyway, doing so with your permission and awareness makes it all so much more delicious. Is there anything else?”

At least he’s honest about being creepy, Tim thinks, because that’s all he can think. “Not until you have a solution.”

“Not yet.”

“And my offer?”

This has to be a them, not a him. “John?”

I need to think.

“Fair enough.” There’s the sound of a chair rolling back.

He’s standing.

Tim stands, too. He doesn’t know what to do. This hadn’t gone at all how he’d hoped.

“I’m sure it’ll all work out,” says Bouchard with a sort of dark glee.

“Right,” says Tim. “Thanks, I… guess.”

“Here. I do hope you change your minds.”

He’s holding out a business card.

Tim takes it on automatic.

It sounds like Bouchard opens the door.

Tim walks out.

With every step, his heart feels heavier.

He’d been so sure solutions would be here. Immediate ones. Telling himself that had kept him going all morning. But now…

There wasn’t help. There was the possibility of help, with the cost of loss of privacy—which he might have lost anyway, just by coming here.

None of this feels good. Tim sighs, fishing for his earbuds.

Someone gasps.

Tim, there’s an old woman looking at us. She… something about her is very dangerous. Something about her… Tim, I think she can see me. Fuck this place.

“Good for her,” mutters Tim, who has decided merely seeing John does not qualify one for anything. “Am I still going right?”

Yes. The door is three steps ahead.

“Leave it,” says Bouchard behind them.

Tim doesn’t think that was for him, and he feels for the door handle.

“Elias, you can’t be serious,” says the old woman’s voice—old but strong, frustrated.

What, had she been about to do something to them?

Tim is sure of it. Sure of it, and doesn’t know why.

Hurry. Apparently, John is sure of it, too.

Tim hurries.

Stairs just ahead. Take your time.

Tim does, one step at a time, using the excuse of concentration to be silent. He wipes his leaky eyes.

Are you all right?

“No. Gonna have to be, though, apparently, because I don’t want to take his deal.”

I promise you, Bouchard will be watching us regardless of what we do; it’s the nature of the Power he serves. It only makes sense to benefit from it, given that we will pay either way.

“Well, fuck that guy, then,” says Tim. “I guess consent isn’t on some fear god’s radar.”

I don’t know why you ever thought it would be. You’ve reached the last step. Where now?

“I don’t know. I’m trying to think. Can I just walk somewhere? Get away from this place?”

Walk to your right. There isn’t much traffic. I may have an idea, but I need to… weigh the pros and cons.

“Right.” So Tim walks, and doesn’t speak again until he’s found a comfortable pace and position that seems to keep him from smashing into anyone.

It works better than Tim would have thought. John directs, corrects, and says nothing of substance.

Tim is deep in thought. A lot happened here.

He’s always thought of himself as deeply pragmatic. That means tackling this with an open mind, and organizing it in lists as quickly as possible, ready to absorb new rules. “So,” he says. “A few things.”

Hm? says John, sounding distracted.

“First, you were scared in there.”

Yes. At least John can admit that honestly. I know you’re new to this, so it may seem like nothing to you—but neither of those people should have been able to see me, much less hear me. I am deeply startled.

“Right,” said Tim. “And by saying that, you’re revealing you’ve done this so often that you have a ‘normal’ in your head, so that’s a whole thing.”

Not as often as you think. I’ve spent most of my time in this world in that book.

Tim’s not sure he believes that. “They didn’t recognize you, though.”

No. They did not, or I would have urged you to run like a cat on fire.

Tim smiles weakly. “Hell of an image. Look, what did you do that you have to hide from everyone? You said you’d tell me after.”

It isn’t so much what I’ve done, John says slowly. It is what I am. You were correct in that earlier assumption: I am… rare. Endangered, in fact.

Tim has a feeling John isn’t using that word casually. “So what are you?”

A being. Rare. Powerful, in my own right, though as you can tell by our current situation, I’ve been robbed of my body.

“Where is your body?”

In another plane of existence, friend. Quite out of reach, I’m afraid.

“Are you dead?” He has to ask.

No.

“Are you… what, a prisoner?”

Tim… I really don’t feel like answering these right now.

“Promise broken. I‘m keeping track,” says Tim, but only half means it. “So there’s you, antlered-tentacled-whatever-the-fuck. There’s fear-gods.There’s accidental priests. So… are there good fairies, or something? Wishing wells? Forest spirits of mercy, or kindness, or whatever?”

No. The lack of hesitation is upsetting. There are no beneficent fairies. No good and kind spirits waiting to freely give of themselves to mortals in need. Everything that exists only does so because it has not been eaten or used by something else, including yourself—from your immune system to your choices, you also fight to survive.

This is different from John’s usual calming tone. It’s not crazy-smooth; it’s just quiet, and Tim suddenly feels like this is the first time John has been genuinely gentle with him.

Tim’s throat feels tight. “Bit of a downer, there,” he manages after a minute. “So what do we do?”

You truly don’t feel what he offered was worth what he asked?

“Just being in that building made me feel like hitting something, and that isn’t like me. I started to get angry, over, just… nothing. No. Whatever price I have to pay to get out of this, I’m not losing myself for it. That guy didn’t even have a solution, anyway. Just a what-if. Not worth it.”

Yes… yes. John sounds thoughtful . That’s a good way of looking at it. The cost cannot be one’s self.

Tim isn’t done. “And just so you know, John? Maybe I am surviving , like everybody else here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make choices and be a good person and help other mortals in need.”

Seeing yourself as the hero, are you?

Tim snorts. ”No. I’d be a cheerfully bisexual bard, at best. I just mean… I don’t know. You make every living thing sound like an asshole, and I don’t think all of us are.”

John chuckles. A slutty bard? Really?

“It’s a DND ref- wait. You understood that?”

Yes. I’m familiar with the trope. I’m merely amused you used it.

“That has some implications, holy shit. How the hell are you familiar with an internet meme? How much time have you spent here?”

Not everyone who kept this book was only a cultist. Some of them were nerds.

Tim is flabbergasted. “What, did they just keep you on the table while scrolling through The Adventure Zone?”

Sometimes.

This doesn’t feel like the full truth. There’s something else John is not saying here, but Tim doesn’t know how to get at it. “I can talk to you in memes,” he says instead. “I’m going to be insufferable.”

John chuckles. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

That sounded regretful? Odd. Why would he…

Or maybe Tim just feels paranoid thanks to whatever the hell that place was. “How does anyone even manage to work there without all becoming axe murderers?” he mutters.

I believe if you are inclined toward the type of fear and information-gathering that god prefers, it grants some sanity so you can keep feeding it. I’ve seen the like.

“A whole fear-god economy. Fuck me, that’s wild.”

Indeed.

“And by the way—what was all that ‘mine’ stuff about?”

John sighs. I apologize. I could feel the Power feeding on you, and I thought perhaps it would respect some kind of… prior claim. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“So you’re not a lot familiar with that thing.”

No. Enough to know that one isn’t much of a danger to me—but others like it must be avoided.

“Did one of those fear-gods send the monsters to my parents’ house?”

Yes.

Tim laughs weakly. “Wow. So they’re actively after you. Fuck. John, you’ve got to have a better idea what to do.”

I have an idea, if you’re willing to try it—but first, you need to eat. Your physical form has needs; Bouchard was right about that. Man shall not live by peanut butter alone.

It is deeply unnerving to hear all these deeply human references used with such familiarity. “I don’t want to try dealing with a restaurant. Find me a take-out place.”

Keep going. I’ll get you there.

He couldn’t believe himself anymore. A tiny part of him is beginning to wonder if, somehow, his family might be cursed.

It’s going to be okay, Tim tells himself on repeat. It’s going to be okay.

———-

NOTES:

Do I hear that description of the King in Ben Meredith’s voice? Yes. Yes, I do.

#tma #malevolent #tma fic #malevolent fic #tim stoker #kiy malevolent #Jonathan sims #elias bouchard #corrupted fic

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kaiandthestrangespaghetti · 2 years ago

Text

The Only Home I Know (Part 01/?)

This is a continuation of Wasteland, Baby - all parts of which can be found here: 01/02/03/04/05

Pairing: Miami Man x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, brief mention of cannibalism, vaginal sex, anal sex, mouth stuff, size kink/size difference, strength kink, bodily fluids, hide and seek/play fighting, dirty talk, (just all round filth), love and cuteness.

Summary: You, Miami and Miel are holding up in an abandoned town after escaping Miel’s kidnappers.

A/N: Thank you @artsy-trash-panda for coming up with the premise! And @kamcrazy123 for enabling this lol. This is the first one where we start to get plot involving The Dream.

Tags: @artsy-trash-panda @kamcrazy123

The exhaustion of the past few days is so total that you remember tucking back into Cam’s body on the kitchen floor, the song drifting quietly from the radio’s speakers and then nothing. Your eyes open crisply as the very first morning light leaks into the kitchen through the big patio doors.

Cam has turned the other way in the night. He stirs slightly as you sit up but rolls a little further onto his front. The elegant necks of the flamingos tattooed on his back and shoulder blades rise and fall with his slow breathing.

You’re so awake, so full of energy. Getting to your feet you cross the kitchen and quietly reach into a box of supplies you’d brought in from the truck – the stuff you’d taken from Elijah’s compound.

Elijah’s face swims in your memory for a moment. The man who kidnapped Miami’s daughter. He’d kept talking about someone called ‘The Dream’. The shockwave of the grenade you’d stuffed in his clothes punctuates the thought. Whoever The Dream was, he’d lost one of his lapdogs.

The candy bar is delicious after nothing but meat. Sickly sweet but heavenly. Using your knees as a vice, you crack the seal on a Sprite bottle one handed and wake Cam as you twist it open, he rolls with a groan. Flexing his neck as he leans up on one elbow. His hair completely loose, face still bruised from what happened the day before.

Before you can pass him the bottle, he’s on his bare feet, padding quietly down the hall to check Miel’s room. She’s still sound asleep. It must be no later than five am.

He closes the bedroom door silently and comes back into the kitchen, sweeping his hair back from his face with one hand and leaning his forearms on the opposite side of the kitchen island. With a smile, you pass him the bottle and he drains the rest of it.

His bruised cheek is rough with stubble when you cup it in your hand. He leans into you, placing his own much larger palm over yours. It’s so warm. You communicate easily this way now; wordlessly. A soft peace settles in the gloomy kitchen. It feels strange in how normal it all is. Like you could almost be a family who bought a house here, not the outcasts you are.

But you’re not like the people who would have bought these houses. None of you. A thought that no longer causes you any pain, especially when you see that look on Cam’s face – that low lidded hazel gaze and slight smile. So warm but so wicked. He’s the safest place you’ve ever been, and the taste of blood in your mouth simultaneously. A crate of chocolate bars and the brutal means by which you obtained them. Cam is dangerous, but so are you. Perhaps more so.

You’re chewing your lip and you don’t even notice. But you do notice Cam’s cleaver still laying on the counter between you, still clipped in its holster. He sees you glance down at it, but he can’t catch your hand before you unsnap the holster and slide the bare steel of the blade across the counter with a hiss. His tattooed fingers close on your narrow wrist. There’s no moving now. He raises a scarred eyebrow at you, the amusement evident on his face.

“Told you already, m’better at this game…” He leans across as he says it, so close you can feel his hot breath on your cheek and ear. With the morning light at his back, he casts you in the gloom of his huge shadow.

As if by way of explanation he nods over his shoulder to where your small kitchen knife and revolver are still laying on the floor. You’d taken them out of your holster the night before. Your tongue traces the underside of your teeth, and his upper lip hitches up in a half snarl, half smirk. The low rumble of his laugh makes you test his grip, but he lifts your wrist easily, turning the blade from your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Tell y’what…” He purrs, his eyes raking up and down you. You’re pulling against him but not to escape; just to feel the strength of him. The tension between the two of you in the silent kitchen is almost unbearable. You think about crawling over the counter.

“No weapons, y’get ten seconds, then I come for you.”

Your wrist drops limp on the counter, and a hard sigh exhales out of you. He’s grinning, still not letting you go. Sure, he could just turn your arm and bend you over the counter like a rag doll if he wanted. If you wanted. He could fuck you almost the way the couple who might have lived in this house would have. But you’re not them.

You nod, and you can’t help it – you lean in and smash your lips into his, his beard grazing your face. His tongue presses deep into your mouth for a second and you can feel him melting. He tastes like Sprite. His fingers are clenching hard in the back of your hair and suddenly he’s dragging you from around the side of the island. The shove is playful, but you still need to brace your hand against the glass of the patio doors to stop yourself as you stagger.

Cam swallows, holding himself in position by the counter. You can see the effort he’s exerting. You’re bent forward against the glass, your ass almost visible under your dress, so you decide to make it worse for him; your right hand snares the waistband of your panties, and they drop around your ankles, the tiniest flash of your cunt visible to him as you do it.

His eyelids flutter, thick fingers gripping the side of the countertop till his knuckles are white. His hair spills across his face and his throat bobs.

“Ten…” he rasps harshly.

You turn and slide the glass door, sprinting barefoot as if your life depended on it across the patio, past the empty pool in the back yard, scrambling over the low fence into the next garden of dried-up turf. Even in your frenzy you notice how the whole place is still completely silent, apart from the occasional bird cawing. You’re alone, in your own playground. The moment of peace passes, you burst through the back door of the house you’d scoped out the night before.

This one has no furniture. Your heart is hammering in your chest, but it’s not fear. Not totally. You take the stairs three at a time, stumbling onto your side at the top and swerving into the master bedroom. There’s a walk-in closet with a door. But you regret it the moment it closes behind you – you’ve trapped yourself.

How many seconds is that? Too late to move. You slide down onto your side and press your cheek to the floor, watching under the narrow gap.

What feels like an age passes but is probably less than a few minutes. Your ears strain against the quiet and when you detect slow footfalls on the stairs the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Cam’s bare feet are visible on the landing, he pauses there a second, then turns left down the hall toward the other bedroom. You see the opening. The adrenaline jolts you to your feet, flinging the closet door wide and nearly tumbling down the stairs as you half leap, half stumble most of the way down, clutching the banister with one hand.

The back door slams open on its hinges and before you can think another desolate pool is yawning out in front of you beyond the paving slabs of the patio. You leap. It’s not deep, maybe five feet but you’re not prepared; your knees still crumple as your feet impact the concrete, sending you sprawling forward.

Quiet, deliberate steps follow behind you. Cam isn’t running. Rolling onto your side you see him standing on the edge of the pool with his hands braced on his hips, looking down at you like you’re a wounded animal. The heat of his expression sears you in place, just long enough for him to hop down from the pool’s edge with a climber’s grace that makes no sense for his size. You start crawling, trying to get your knees under you.

He makes no move to grab you, he just laughs. His head canted to one side over his muscled shoulder, wrists flexing in anticipation.

“Keep crawling Princesa…” He goads, and you swing a heel into his shin. It connects hard enough to make him grunt, but he seizes your ankle, pulling you helplessly across the floor of the pool toward him. His other hand locks on your thigh and before you can get your legs underneath you, you’re in his lap, face to face with that smug, hungry smile.

Yet it’s devoid of cruelty, even when his fingers and thumb easily circle your throat. He holds you delicately, without pressure, despite the way his top lip hitches up and he swallows with driven want, eyelids fluttering.

“How’s somethin’ so small got a bite like you do?”

You lean hard into his grip and snap your teeth at him playfully. He catches you with a snort of laughter and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

It’s impossible to hold it back; you moan and grope his lap, finding the heat under the white cotton. He doesn’t stop you but his eyes almost completely close, his exhalation through gritted teeth is warm on your face. The grip on your throat flexes, then shifts familiarly to the nape of your neck. The way his forearm braces your whole back makes you unravel.

Eyelids dipped, Cam slips two thick fingers in his mouth then firmly, but delicately splays your cunt to look at you.

The shudder that goes through him makes you grin. He’s so lost in looking at you that he doesn’t notice the balls of your feet gaining purchase. You’ve almost enough strength to dive momentarily out of his grip but his fingers seize your hair. It’s useless.

“Done yet, lil biter?” He lilts. And as he says it his wet fingers spread you exquisitely open before him. It’s so intense your head lolls back a moment, hair dragging on the floor of the pool. You look at him with a single expression that communicates a complex reply:

Never, but yes, yes. Please yes.

The abstract lines tattooed on his middle finger sink into you and your eyes roll, turning totally limp in his grip. Cam adds his index finger and presses slowly into your core, watching your face, his own breathing becoming irregular at the heat, the softness. When he pulls them free, he sucks them clean with that expression he always has when he tastes you; as if you are something rare, delectable.

The strong brace of his arm at your back is lowering you onto the floor of the pool, the concrete, not yet baked hot by the sun, is cool beneath your shoulder blades. Everything feels soft and slow after the rush of adrenaline. Your head rolls to one side and you see Cam push his hair back from his face, palming his cock in his wet hand.

He grins, amused at your limpness, casually lifting one knee with two fingers of his free hand, then letting it fall to the side. He doesn’t even need to say it out loud, it’s written on his face as he leans over you;

Look at you, cock drunk on me already…

The thick pressure of him pushing an exquisite inch into your cunt makes your back arch. You try to roll your hips to take more but he denies you, his palms settling on your knees and pressing them almost all the way to the floor at your sides. Another inch and you’re whimpering.

He’s enjoying this, a little in the way a carnivore toys with its prey. He leans back, chin tilting to his chest to get a look at his cock splitting you and a guttural mutter of something that might have been fuck falls from his lips, broad palms sliding down the outsides of your thighs, grasping your ass and pulling you open with his thumbs while he presses deeper, agonisingly slow.

You give a strangled moan, trying to lift your body to meet him, reaching up to grasp his shoulder, just above the letter ‘N’, but he’s too strong. You’ll have only what he allows.

“More…” The word leaks out of you pitifully, your vision a daze of Cam against the brightening blue sky. At the same moment his cock totally fills you the two fingers that had been inside your cunt slide deep into your begging mouth. Just for a second you choke, and Cam pulls them back – but then you’re pleading with your tongue, tasting yourself on his fingers. His expression steels with want and the rough pads of his fingers slip deep, he’s fucking you so hard your bare shoulders shunt against the concrete, anchored only by his grip on your jaw.

It's like being pulled apart in the most exquisite way you can imagine. Everything but the force of him and the blur of the sky disappears from your perception, you feel a rivulet of saliva stream down your cheek. Cam sheathes into you once more, hard, and then his face comes back into focus. He’s looking down at you, angling your face by the fingers in your mouth. Just a tinge of concern in his expression.

Your eyes unfocused, your cunt soft and fluttering against him.

“Too much, lil biter?” He lulls with a hot breath. His beard and lips brush your cheek.

How he takes such strength, such force and turns it effortlessly into endless gentleness you never know. It reminds you that the same hands that have butchered human beings have also produced the most delicate brushstrokes. But it always, always, breaks you. The shudder goes from the nape of your neck to your tailbone.

It feels involuntary – your teeth clamp down on his fingers, hard enough to hurt. A hiss of pain escapes between his teeth and when the shock passes, he looks down at you with a kind of wonder. What are you? It says, glowing.

His breathing is fast and raspy, sweat shows on his forehead, his hairline damp. Still, you haven’t quite relinquished your grip on his fingers.

“You wan’ more?” He utters and slides from your cunt leaving you achingly empty. For just a moment you protest before his free hand drops to angle the slick head of his cock against the tight, exposed ring of your ass. Teasing you with it, watching your face closely.

You freeze up at the sensation. It’s new. Your jaw drops open and you give up his fingers. He cups your face softly despite the bite marks on the back of his knuckles. The daze of it all still engulfing you. The wet slide of his cock against your ass makes you shiver.

“Ok...” He judges from your reaction and goes to pull away but a look of panic floods your face. Words aren’t easy in the moment.

“Don’t…Please. Yes.” You manage.

You can read the conflict on his face. How he loves your size compared to him. How he almost wants to fuck the tight, soft, breakable form of your body so hard you shatter. And yet he wouldn’t harm you, not for anything.

He remembers the way you’d clutched Elijah’s neck, singlehandedly declawing a threat that was bigger, stronger, and better armed. You’re not easily broken.

Cam’s spit hits your ass and cunt, one hand on the back of your neck, your tight hole resisting the slippery head of his cock for a torturous moment before he palms the shaft and pushes hard. A little cascade of sting runs through you but you’re still pulling him toward you by his shoulder.

It’s slow, different to how he normally fucks you; when he finally slides the whole of his cock into your ass he gives an unguarded moan of broken pleasure, and as if to distract himself pushes his fingers back into your mouth.

Cam’s forehead is pressed to yours, no longer restraining you at all. You’re boneless, mind gone with him – and he isn’t much better. The muscles of his neck and shoulder are taught ropes where your hand lays on them, he trembles with tension. The thick twitch of him stretches your body totally and you know he won’t last another minute.

So does he; frozen still, eyes shut, trying to breathe slowly.

“Hurts?” He husks, and you can see the mental effort it takes him to even form the single word. The back of your head rolls back and forth on the hard floor of the pool. No.

Still keeping two fingers in your mouth his free hand teases your fucked cunt, pausing a long moment before pushing his index finger all the way into your wetness. When he feels his own cock filling your ass through the inner wall of your body his eyes go wide, mouth open.

He’s staring down at you, tiny repetitive gasps pulling air into his lungs. The pads of his fingers pumping your cunt, teasing that exquisitely sensitive spot, feeling his own cock seated so deep in your body. His hips piston short, brutal thrusts in your ass and you come suddenly, all sense going from you in the nerve whiteout.

He feels it and he’s muttering in your ear, a harsh, filthy-sweet rush of want, need;

“You like that Princesa? Lil biter? You want more? Gon’ make you so full of me…fuck, so…tight, how? Fuck…”

The words tumble from English into Spanish. You’ve learned that he almost always says ‘I love you’ in Spanish, and you recognise the phrase as he utters it over and over.

Cam lets out a snarl that curls into a vulnerable whine, his fingers slip wetly from your mouth and his arm wraps you crushingly tight. The whole of him spills deep into you with a shudder, until he can’t thrust anymore. You’re both panting. The weight of his body on you holds the world still, pressing you flat on the floor of the pool, everything makes sense. Sweat beads on his back. You both lay that way, feeling your breathing slow.

For a long and beautiful moment there is nothing else in the world. Past the point of language your body becomes a mantra of Cam, his weight and presence. The way he smells. Burying his face into the crook of your neck below your jaw he inhales you deeply; it’s mutual.

A bird caws in the morning sky and your unfocused eyes settle on something upside down, where your head is rolled back; there’s a hosepipe dangling into one corner of the pool. When you’d arrived at the little ghost town you’d checked every faucet, Cam had checked the stop valves and opened them but no water had come out.

But there is a small, damp patch of concrete right below that hose. It’s dripping. You start laughing giddily, still half addled. Cam leans up and looks down at you with a bemused smile, his big hand cupping the back of your head.

“What?” He laughs, and then he sees your eyeline, and looks up.

Running water has become such a strange luxury that you still use it sparingly as you both clean yourselves up in the pool. Tenderly, but like much in the desert, shaped by utility.

Miel gets the first proper bath in the house next door while you sit out on the sun-baked patio.

The dripping hosepipe keeps grabbing your attention.

Dragging it over the fence you toss it into the empty pool in your own little backyard and start the faucet running. Fuck it. You always wanted a pool as a kid. You watch the bottom fill up and realise it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d had one – nothing will ever be as good as this perfect, love bruised, dusty oasis.

About a hundred miles of desert away, a man with dark hair is sitting next to an indoor pool that glimmers with a chlorine scented luxury absent from the derelict concrete bowls in the ghost town.

But all the same, it smells artificial. The bleach tang gives the air an unpleasant taste. He takes a sip from his cocktail and watches a pregnant woman climb out of the water and start towelling herself off. A man with a rifle is at his elbow.

“Sir?”

“Yes? David, is it? Why are you troubling me?” His voice is a low, Texan drawl. He doesn’t look up.

“I apologise sir, but it’s Elijah.”

“What exactly about Elijah?”

“He’s dead sir.”

The Dream freezes with the cocktail half way to his mouth and looks up to pin the other man with a searching look.

“And tell me, how exactly did that happen?”

The man with the rifle looks uncomfortable. “They took Miami and his kid, and some girl with one arm. The girl was due to be transported with the supplies yesterday but…She put a live grenade down Elijah’s shirt. They escaped, all three of them.”

The dream sets the colourful glass down on a side table.

“Well that just wont do. You best be finding out where they went.”

“And then, sir?”

The Dream looks pensively over the blue undulation of the water.

“There’s only one thing to be done with rabid dogs David, but bring me the girl. Maybe she can be convinced of civilisation.”

#miami man #miami man x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction

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cloudbattrolls · 2 years ago

Text

Nowhere to Hide

Jameth Abnale | Present Night | Civitrecce

This drabble is set during In All I Am, Retrace Me.

Trigger warnings for ableist talk, internalized ableism, and addiction symptoms.

Jamie slept hard. He liked that kind of sleep, where he didn’t remember his dreams. But it made him groggy as he slowly came back to wakefulness, fumbling for his glasses.

He cut his hand instead, swearing. What…?

The rims and temples were razor sharp.

He snatched his hand away, taking a bandage out of his sylladex to wrap around the cut - clumsily, he couldn’t see well, everything fuzzy. What the hell?

Cautiously, he reached for his crutches too, using only the wary tips of his fingers - and was glad he did, for they too were sharp. He took his hand away, lying in his bed, still half-covered in his sopor filled sheets.

He began to feel…woozy. Lightheaded.

What was going on?

“Wondering what’s happening, Jameth?”

He froze.

He’d only heard that voice once before, but he would never forget it.

“Izanam!” He snarled.

Was she actually here somehow? He couldn’t even tell.

“What do you think you’re doing? You lost! Jikiro hates you, and he’s away right now, off to cure me!”

“Oh, Jameth. I don’t care if you’re cured or not.”

Her tone was chiding and impatient, as if he were a slow wriggler in a schoolfeeding crèche.

“It would have been convenient if you died, but it doesn’t matter if you live. All you need to do is end your relationship with him.”

He laughed spitefully. “No! I will fuck your signmate until he screams my name and you will get to live with it, old hag, though I hope for not much longer! Chew on that.”

“A vulgar retort that betrays your poor taste.” She said boredly. “Surely even you should think better of such activity with an undead creature of unfit body. You always seemed an intelligent boy, Jameth - it was a pity you were reduced to such a state.”

“Oh, thank you.” Jamie said sarcastically, fumbling in his sylladex for his spare glasses and crutches. “This means so much coming from you, really plucks on my old heartstrings.”

“Is it really worth all this fighting?” She chided. “Do you not think Jikiro will find a spade of better quality? Save yourself some pain.”

“He could.” Jamie whispered, his head swimming. “I know it every time I kiss him, every time he sees my broken body laid bare. He hates me anyway, and if he leaves me it will be because he chose it, not you.”

“Does it matter?” Retorted Izanam impatiently. “The end result is the same.”

“How little you understand, old woman.” Murmured the blueblood, finally finding his glasses, putting them on with a shaky hand.

She wasn’t here. The voice he heard must be nothing more than a magical projection. Clearly he needed wards for his apartment too.

“You really think tormenting me will get you anywhere? As if I am a wriggler to be scared so easily? Please. You don’t know me.”

“Don’t I?” She said with amusement.

The whole room changed to a scene Jamie knew in horrible, vivid memory.

His old friends.

Evrett. Lastha. Ayakko.

Him. Lying on this very bed.

He’d overdosed on pain medication. He’d barely lived. He’d screamed at hallucinations, clawed at his own skin and accidentally hit them too in his unaware flailing as they’d attempted to keep him from hurting himself.

They’d tried to help him. They’d tried when the others had dismissed him entirely. But they didn’t know what to do. No one did.

Lastha clutched her wombat lusus, frightened. Ayakko tried to hide their disgust. Evrett looked deeply uncomfortable, a purple bruise forming on his face.

Sorry, Jamie.

We can’t, Jamie.

Good luck, Jamie.

One by one, they all left.

He’d screamed and cried and begged to their retreating forms, done so until his throat had turned raw.

More medication. He’d scrabbled for it weakly. Anything but this. Oblivion. Even hallucinations. It was better than the real world.

A firm, thick hand on his.

Jikiro’s determined face.

No, Jamie.

No.

He gasped as the scene faded away, shivering, hugging himself. Had it been an illusion? Or had she poisoned him with something to make him relive his past?

“Is that…is that all…you’ve got?” He tried to taunt Izanam, but his voice cracked, weak and shaking.

Silence.

Her voice was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

As if he was hallucinating again.

Oh god, was he?

Had he slipped without even realizing it?

No. No. He refused. He’d beaten it, he’d won! He’d never go back! He was not weak!

Jamie’s claws dug into his trembling hands. He was real. He was here. He bled.

He could not force himself to grab his spare crutches, to get up.

But at least he could bleed.

His lusus flew over, making concerned hooting noises, fluttering his wings in concern as he noticed his charge’s self-inflicted wounds.

“It’s all right, father.” He murmured. “It’ll be all right. Stay with me and it’ll be fine.”

He shakily stroked the kookaburra’s feathers with his bleeding hands, leaving blue smears on the white feathers.

His lusus nuzzled him, then flew away.

Jamie didn’t know why.

He closed his eyes, slipping back into sleep once more as the moons rose outside his window.

#Jameth Abnale #cloud writes #yeah. not much to say for this one. sorry for Jamie's terrible sex joke but for once I think he's entitled.

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tracingpatternswrites · 2 years ago

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Happy birthday, Padfoot!

My favourite boy, my darling, who deserved so much better than canon ever gave him. Good thing we can give him just that.

Today’s @wolfstarmicrofic maybe? The prompt is Happy Birthday of course.

Sort of nsfw-adjacent under the cut.

Sirius hears the stairs creaking, the shuffle of feet outside the door. There’s the sound of whispered voices and then the door is pushed open and Sirius closes his eyes quickly.

“NO! I WANT TO GO FIRST!”

Harry’s sort of shouted whisper carries across the room and Sirius forces himself not to smile as he makes a low, exaggerated snore, pretending to be asleep.

“Go on then,” comes Remus’ voice and Sirius can hear the amusement, the fondness, there. ”But Harry, be care–”

There’s the sound of hurried footsteps and then the dip of the bed followed by-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY PADFOOT!”

”–ful,” Remus finishes and Sirius finds himself with a sharp elbow against his side and an excited four-year-old on his chest.

“Oof,” he groans, opening his eyes to see Harry’s bright green eyes swimming only inches away from his own face.

“HELLO!” Harry shouts, ”WAKE UP PA’FOOT, WAKE UP!”

Sirius laughs, unable not to, pushing the boy away gently as he sits himself up, but without letting him get too far.

”Merlin, Harry. I know I’m getting older but I’m not deaf yet.”

”But it’s your birthday!” The boy insists with a loud and excited sort of whisper this time, as he slides off Sirius lap to settle cross-legged on the bed next to him. ”Aren’t you excited?”

Sirius smiles fondly, ruffling the boy’s hair.

”Sure I am, sprog,” he grins, looking up to see Remus at the foot of the bed, watching them both with a soft sort of smile. ”Hey.”

”Hey Pads,” replies Remus as he sets the tray down on the bedside table before leaning down, kissing Sirius softly and murmuring against his lips. ”Harry birthday.”

”Thanks,” Sirius murmurs, warmth spreading through him at the adoration in the other man’s eyes, but then Harry’s climbing on top of him again, inserting himself between the two of them with the practiced ease only a four-year-old could muster.

”You have presents, Pa’foot. I’ll help you open them! And cake, there’s cake. For breakfast!”

Sirius laughs, letting go of Remus a little reluctantly to wrap an arm around the boy in his lap instead, using his free hand to tickle him.

”What? Cake for breakfast? That can’t be right, it’s not your birthday, Hare-bear. It must be only for me.”

”No!” Harry protests with a giggle and a squirm, ”It’s for all of us, Moony said.”

”But it’s not Moony’s birthday,” Sirius teases, glancing at his husband who’s merely watching them both amusedly. ”I think I call the shots today, it’s my birthday after all.”

”Nah-uh,” Harry gasps, stumbling over the words as he shuffles around to seek refuge from the tickling with Remus instead. ”Moony decides because he said so.”

”Oh did he now?” Sirius murmurs, arching a brow as he looks up at Remus through lowered lashes, the small curve of Remus’ mouth sending a little hot spark dance down his spine. ”Interesting.”

”Isn’t it,” Remus deadpans even though his eyes glitter thrillingly but then the moment is broken as Remus hoists the boy into the air, making him shriek in delight. ”How about you go get Padfoot his gift, hm?”

”YES!” Harry shouts, scurrying out of the room as soon as Remus sets him back down on the floor.

”He’s still going to your mum’s today, right?” Sirius mumbles under his breath as he watches Harry disappear out the door.

”Oh yes,” Remus assures him, Sirius’ skin tingling where Remus’ hand settles at the back of his neck, giving him a light squeeze. ”Taking him as soon as we’ve had breakfast and picking him up tomorrow.”

”Thank fuck,” Sirius murmurs, leaning into the touch slightly.

He loves Harry, of course he does, but he doesn’t remember the last time he and Remus had a night for themselves and he’s getting desperate for it. Remus chuckles lowly, fingers threading through Sirius’ hair and then the grip tightens, unexpectedly, sending licks of fire from Sirius’ scalp down his spine to pool somewhere in his groin and he sucks in a sharp and keening breath.

”LOOK!” Harry shouts as he slams the bedroom door open again, brandishing a wrapped gift in his small hand. ”For you Pa’foot!”

Remus hand is gone but Sirius feels as if he’s still reeling, and it takes him a second to find his voice, but then Harry is in his lap again, pushing the gift into his hands.

”I can open it for you,” Harry offers graciously, eager fingers already working on the wrapping paper.

”Thanks, sprog,” Sirius chuckles, letting the boy get to work as he looks up to meet his husband’s gaze again.

”Later,” Remus mouths soundlessly at him, and the way his gaze has gone dark with promise makes anticipation sizzle through Sirius’ veins.

Later.

#happy birthday padfoot #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #young harry potter #wolfstar raising harry #happy birthday sirius #my writing

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darkmulti · 3 years ago

Note

Hello I love your work so much, you are my fav writer I love your style and the way you paint your ideas! <3

I know you must have a lot of requests but could you please do a hard dom CEO jungkook, with innocent reader. Would be nice if you can add corruption kink, degrading and non con. Thank you!

⚠️: NON CON, DEGRADATION, CORRUPTION KINK, INNOCENT!READER, VIRGIN!READER, slapping, choking

-> I’m glad you like my work!! Sorry for the wait tho😭

-> I didn’t “add” too much corruption kink because it’s kinda hard to incorporate corruption kink and non con

-> sorry for any mistakes

“Y/N! In my office now!”

The moment you sat down on your chair, your boss called you again

You quickly stood up and hustled into his office

“Yes, Mr. Jeon. Is something wrong?”

You politely asked

“What the hell did you put in my coffee?”

“Regular, sir. Two milks and one sugar.”

“Did you check the expiration date on the milk?”

“Uh… no”

“God damnit! Are you trying to poison me, Y/N?! You can’t do the simplest tasks right! Get out of my sight.”

“Sir, I can make you another-”

“I said get out!”

You immediately left his office and sped off into your own

You closed the door gently before covering your mouth and bursting out into tears

The constant yelling and degrading was slowly breaking you down

He never appreciated any of your hard work, instead he focused on the small flaws you made

You knew you deserved better so that night you went home and wrote a resignation letter

The next day you went to work and gave it to Mr. Jeon

“Mr. Jeon, this is my resignation letter. I can’t work here anymore. It’s not good for my mental health.”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue and crumbled the letter

“You have to give me a two weeks notice. That way I can start looking for your replacement. However, I have a business trip next week and you have to come with me.”

“What if I find someone that can take my place?”

“No, I want you to go with me and that’s final.”

Next week

You were at the airport with your carry on bag in hand and your passport in the other

Jungkook was in front of you, leading the way to the private jet

Once you both were seated, he poured himself and you a drink

“So, tell me why you want to quit.” He said, taking a sip of his Blue Label whiskey

You didn’t want to tell him the real reason, which was because of him

You thought it’d make the trip more awkward if he knew that you were quitting because of him and you also didn’t want to sound mean

So the best excuse you could come up with was that you found a more suitable job

You told him lies after lies, thinking that he was believing you

Little did you know, Jungkook could see right through you

He knew the real reason you were quitting was because of him

He was purposely cruel to you and you’ve finally reached your breaking point

It was amusing to him

Did you really think that you could trick him?

How cute

Jungkook knew that whole suitable job excuse was a lie because he keeps his eyes on you all day and night

While you were asleep, Jungkook broke into your apartment and installed tiny cameras all around

So he could keep an eye on you

He also hacked into your phone and installed a tracking app, just in case

He got access to all your emails, social media, phone calls, photos, text messages — ect.

Anyways, back to the private jet

You were in the back of the jet sleeping since it was a long flight and you get air sick

You felt something around your waist so you looked down and see a tattooed arm

You immediately recognized who it was and got up, waking up Jungkook in the process

“I- I’m sorry, sir. You should’ve woke me up and I would’ve given you the bed.”

“It’s fine, we’re about to land anyways.”

After you guys landed, you both headed towards the car in the hangar

The driver took you both to a luxury hotel

The building itself was super unique

The transparent, rooftop pool was definitely something you were looking forward to

Jungkook had paid for your hotel room

You guys had rooms right next to each other so it’s more convenient for him

It was still 10 in the morning, so Jungkook allowed you to sleep for a little while but by 12pm, you guys had to leave for an important meeting

The afternoon was packed with meetings, presentations & preparations for a small business party

You were exhausted because Jungkook kept you running back and forth while he was sitting on his ass

By the end of the day you were tired as hell, but luckily everything went smoothly

Jungkook seemed to be okay with how everything turned out

You were relieved to say the least

He’d usually find something to complain about

It was 10pm when you both arrived at the hotel

Jungkook said he was going to go shower and sleep so you bid goodnight and went into your room

Even though you were physically and mentally exhausted, your mind couldn’t fall asleep

You figured it was because of the amount of coffee you consumed

Since you couldn’t fall asleep, you decided to put on your swimming suit and go upstairs to try out the pool

Once the elevator doors opened, you were surprised to see so many people on the rooftop dancing and drinking

You still went to the pool even though it was loud and packed

On your way to the pool, you accidentally bumped into a group of guys

They notice your somewhat revealing swimming suit and offered a drink

You were going to reject but all of them were pressuring you to have at least one drink with them, so you stupidly agree

One drink turned into two and so on

You started dancing with the guys and they were all cheering you on

This was it

This was the attention you were craving for

You were a little wasted but still had your senses

You held one of the boy’s hand and took him to the swimming pool

“You said you were good at swimming… so make sure I don’t drown.” You drunkly said before jumping in

The man chuckled at your behaviour and jumped in afterward to make sure you don’t do anything dumb

After swimming, you had more drinks and danced more with everyone

The night was going so well until someone pulled you away from all the chaos

“Heyyyy, what’re you doing man? The party’s over there.” You said, pointing back to the crowd

He wasn’t responding so you tried to look at his face but the lights were burning your eyes

You looked down at his arm and recognize his tattoos

Once you realized who he was, it was too late

“M- Mr. Jeon, why’re you up so late?”

He brought you back to his room and shoved you in

Jungkook pushed you against the door and slapped you hard

It brought you back to reality real fast

“Are you dumb, Y/N?! Going upstairs without telling me anything, drinking and dancing with men you don’t know— do you know how dangerous that is?! Is your head hollow?!” He yelled in your face and hit the side of your head a couple of times, checking if it was hollow

“Do you know what they would’ve done to you if I didn’t come?! Let me fucking show you.”

He pushed you towards the bed and you slipped because of your wet feet

You started backing away from him, but you knew you were doomed when your back hit the side of the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please. I was just trying to have fun-” another hard slap landed on your cheek and this one was enough to make you tear up

“Fun? You want to have fun? Okay then, let’s have some fun.”

He pulled you up by your wrist and pushed you down on the bed

“Mr. Jeon, please! I’m so sorry! I don’t know how it all happened!”

You were sobbing at this point because Jungkook looked terrifying

He was beyond pissed and his eyes were showing it all

“You think a “sorry” can fix what you did?! You’re so fucking stupid! This is why I yell at you all the time because your dumb, little head knows nothing. Without me, you wouldn’t be living so comfortably. I give you a good pay, so you can pay rent, buy food and clothes without worrying about money. But, what do I get in return? A resignation letter…” he scoffs before continuing “… You’re just a dumb, naive, whore that would be homeless right now if I didn’t take care of you. Maybe this is why your parents abandoned you.”

Your bottom lip started to wobble and before you knew it, you were bawling your eyes out in front of him

His words were so harsh, you weren’t ready for it at all

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You apologized over and over and over but he still wasn’t satisfied

“H- how can I make it up? Please, give me a chance.”

His hand went towards your private area and you started shaking your head profusely

“No, no, no… anything but that please…”

“Well, there’s nothing else that you have that I want.”

“I’m n- not comfortable though.”

Jungkook grabbed your face and stared deep into your eyes

“Does it look like I care?”

Jungkook continued on

He ripped your swim suit off and pulled down his pants

“Please be gent-”

You screamed when you felt him push into you

You grabbed his arms and tried to push him away but he easily dominated you

He pinned your hands above your head and spat down on his cock for some lube

Without any warning, he pushed his full length in, causing you to squirm around and cry

Your purity blood dripped down onto the bed sheets while you kept pleading for him to stop

“Mr. Jeon, please! I- I was sa- saving till marriage.” You sobbed

“That’s even better. Now we can get married.”

“No! No! I don’t want that.”

Jungkook pushed your legs apart and started going at a fast pace

“You don’t want to get married to me? Well, that’s too bad because I don’t care about what you want.”

Each of his thrust were powerful and rough

He wrapped his hand around your neck so anytime you rejected him in a way, he’d squeeze until you’d shut up

Your face was hot and red from all the slapping and choking

He covered your neck in hickeys

All night, he was fucking you

The headboard was banging against the wall so hard, it left dents in the wall

There was cum overflowing out of you, but Jungkook still didn’t stop

He pounded you until your body gave up on you

You couldn’t fight anymore

You weren’t talking, crying or moving

All you could do was whimper softly when it really hurt

Jungkook noticed you were on the verge of passing out, so he quickened up his pace and came into you before collapsing on top of you

“You would’ve been in so much more pain if I didn’t save you from those guys. So what do you say to me?”

You weakly open your eyes and look into his

“T- Thank you.” You whisper softly before falling unconscious

Decided to end it here bc I don’t have the brain power to continue writing. Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 2am

#jungkook smut #bts smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts

555 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance, Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Sing To Me AU

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (ii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, stealing cultural landmarks, frustrated bucky

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: made a header 4 this fic but i couldn’t take it seriously enough <3

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! it’s always fun to hear from y’all.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

It’s roughly a week before he sees you next.

Right on time too, according to the briefings he had received. Once a week you’d come up with your next batshit crazy idea and someone would be sent to make sure you didn’t execute it.

It was more of a babysitting gig than anything. Most people would do one, maybe two assignments before asking to not be sent again.

He was not most people. He volunteers to go again. His afternoon is relatively free and he’s bored.

Also, and more importantly, he needs to get out of the house before Sam finds out what he did.

“You’ll find her near the Statue of Liberty.”

“How do we know?”

“Oh, she tells us.”

“...she tells us where to find her?”

“Most times, yes. She says it’s time efficient.”

Absurd. He thinks you’re absurd.

Bucky finds you in line to board the ferry. You’re dressed to the nines like an obnoxious tourist, even though you were a local, topped with binoculars and a bucket hat.

On an unrelated note, he thinks that maybe the mission today is to kill you for daring to wear sandals with socks like a suburban dad. A shudder runs through his body when he sees it.

He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap. Somehow he’s standing out more than you are.

He boards the ferry behind you, keeping a close eye on all your movements. You take your place near the railing, a seat near the front of the boat.

His phone rings. He answers it, expecting Sam to screech at him for painting Redwing neon pink again. He should have known it was coming after he shoved Bucky off the quinjet before he had time to strap his parachute on properly.

“I thought I told you to bring a cape.”

He quickly looks up at you but you’re not facing him. You have your phone held up to your ear, however.

“How did you get this number?” he asks icily.

“I knew you’d show up again.” Your head tilts to look at the statue in the distance. “Also, thanks for the door money, but I’m not sure I appreciate how you think the least creepy way to give someone money is to drop it off anonymously at their doorstep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He swiftly gets up, stalking over to where you’re sitting. He was advised not to do anything aggressive. Advised was a flexible word.

“Because I wasn’t going to answer it.” You look up at his figure looming over you. “Oh, hey.”

The phone is still pressed to the side of your face even though he’s right beside you. He cuts the call, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Allow me to introduce my pl-”

“What are you doing here?” He cuts to the chase.

You send him a glare. “I was going to say it before you told me to. And sit down before everyone thinks you’re going to kill me.”

“Why are you going there?” He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks. He has important things to do. Like watching the reruns of Masterchef Junior.

He sits in the seat beside you.

“Look at us.” You grin at him. “Me with the evilest outfit I could think of, you with your... Addams Family cosplay. We’re like, two peas in a po-”

“Start explaining,” he interjects.

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to shrink the Statue of Liberty and use it as a keychain.”

“What?” It’s probably the most benign plan he’s ever heard in his life.

“I’m kidding.” Oh, good. “I’m not using it as a keychain, I’m taking it to class.” Nevermind.

“What?” He finds himself repeating his previous question.

“I’m shrinking all the statues I can find. I want to use it in my classroom to teach the kids.”

“You’re... a teacher?” He blinks.

“You got a problem with that?” You look offended, to say the least.

“No.” It’s not what he would peg your occupation as. He didn’t think you had one at all. “How are you planning on shrinking it?”

You rummage through the ugliest fanny pack he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. You pull out a small ring box, complete with a bow tied neatly on top.

“I was saving this for our third anniversary, but-” you offer him a nervous laugh.

His stony expression doesn’t change, not even a blink.

“Fine, Jesus, you’re no fun,” you huff, dropping the emotional act when he doesn’t look amused.

You flip open the lid. Inside there are a few small disks. It looks familiar, he realises.

“Your friend Ant-Boy didn’t file a patent, so I just took his whole shtick.” He wants to defend Scott’s honour; it’s Ant-Man not boy. He doesn’t. He’s too transfixed on what you have in your hand.

“Pym particles.”

“The diet version.” You pick up one of them carefully. “A ripoff, but effective. Just gotta attach it to the thing I want to shrink and give it a few minutes.”

“You’re going to steal the Statue of Liberty,” he says, frankly a little taken aback that you were serious.

“Would you relax? I’ll put it back.”

“That’s not the point,” he damn near exclaims. “You can’t take away the Statue of Liberty just because you feel like it.”

“I literally can.” You point to the chips in your hand. “That’s the point of this, keep up.”

He feels exasperated. He didn’t sign up for this when he became an Avenger.

“Give me the box.” He makes a grab for it but you yank it away from his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t have time for this.” His reruns would begin in an hour.

“That’s my problem, because...” you trail off.

He rolls his eyes, makes a grab at the box again. His tactic is different this time. He stealthily pins one of your arms down so that you’re basically incapacitated.

“Hey! Stop that.” You fumble against his reach, shoving him with your elbow.

“Just give me the thing and we can all go home for the day,” he huffs, unfazed by your squirming.

“No! Over my dead bod-”

He doesn’t immediately notice what goes wrong in the scuffle.

Until you look at the ground near your feet. A disk lay there, undisturbed.

“Is that-” All of a sudden, either he’s getting taller or the ceiling of the boat is getting lower.

“Oops,” you say, not remorseful in the slightest.

“Are we going to-”

“I’d give it five minutes max.”

Great. He was stuck on a boat that was beginning to shrink. The other passengers were either oblivious or ignorant to seats that were starting to become too small for them, but Bucky’s heightened senses and extreme reflexes made it hard to skip.

He nudges the piece of tech with his foot. Maybe he can kick it off the boat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn solemnly. He wants to disagree but doesn’t know enough about the device to dispute you.

“Fix this,” he hisses, panic slightly rising. His fingers find their way to his phone to send out an emergency text requesting backup and mass evacuation.

“I think it’s a rather lovely day for a swim, don’t you?” You stare dreamily at the waves that were inching closer up the boat.

Or you were inching closer to the water. Technicalities were frivolous.

“There are other people on this boat.”

“River’s big enough for all of us, I reckon.”

“Fix it.”

“Or what?” There’s a wicked gleam in your eye. “We both know I have the upper hand here.”

“Or I call the entirety of the Avengers here and haul your ass to prison.”

“Will they bring snacks?”

You’re insufferable. You know it. But you also are the fastest way to get out of this situation and right now, he didn’t want to be responsible for a shipwreck simulation.

“Fine. Tell me what you want.”

“I like soy chips.”

“Soy chi-” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I want one historical artifact so I can impress the kids. They think I’m the cool teacher and I want to keep that reputation alive.”

“What makes you think I can arrange for that?”

“You’ve been alive since goddamn dinosaurs roamed this earth, I’m sure you have some connections.” You pause to assess his face. “You know, you don’t look a day over 29. Dermatologists must hate yo-”

“I’ll get you an artifact, now fix the fuckin’ boat.”

“You promise?” You grin brightly.

He stares at you. You are unyielding.

The boat’s uncomfortably small and people are beginning to take notice. Worried murmurs fill the air behind him.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You shrug simply.

You kneel over, picking up the chip from the ground. You do nothing else for two minutes, instead turning away from him to look at the Statue of Liberty that was coming closer.

It takes him a while to realise that half his body isn’t hanging off his chair anymore. The ceiling is moving further and further away from the top of his head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He wants to strangle you.

Why did he listen to you when all of this would have been over the minute he kicked it off the ship.

“You can drop it off at my lair on Monday and pick it up on Friday.” You gather your belongings, leaving him steaming behind you. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Sergeant.”

You step over him, flashing him a quick smile before walking off the boat with the rest of the tourists as if nothing had just taken place. When he looks down, the stupid ring box is on his lap.

He sits there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the container.

The ferry conductor asks if he’s going to get off the boat.

He simply shakes his head.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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yourtamaki · 4 years ago

Text

history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place.

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it.

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it.

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded.

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched. “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.”

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm.

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned.

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind.

“my roommate’s your teammate.”

“is he? which one?”

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.”

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.”

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?”

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it.

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music.

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely.

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.”

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.”

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one.

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling.

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly.

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress?

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion.

“what are you doing here, darling?”

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-”

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch.

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day.

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.

“i should?”

“yeah.”

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it.

until you started waking up alone.

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice.

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were.

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream.

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity.

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice.

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story.

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.”

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.”

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.”

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in.

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.”

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration.

“remember that greek story you told me about?”

“mhmm.”

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.”

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?”

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?”

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?”

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece.

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment.

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.”

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.”

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you.

“then help me understand.”

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?”

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.”

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.”

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue.

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.”

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself.

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--”

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in.

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.”

“maybe.”

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?”

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.”

“oh.”

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again.

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.”

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst

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earlgreydream · 4 years ago

Text

enemies.

| bucky x reader | fluff |

requested by @fitzfiles enemies to lovers

this is technically a highschool au, but only slightly. we love bucky being a loveable ass out here

Your eyes narrowed and you glared at Bucky. You couldn’t stand him. Bucky was popular, flirtatious, and an asshole. He was always flirting with you at school, and you always felt like he was trying to make a joke of you in front of everyone. On top of that, it made other girls envy you, tainting friendships with jealousy.

It seemed like you were the only one who didn’t want Bucky Barnes.

“You’re such an ass!” You snapped at Bucky, who only laughed in response. You hated when he tilted his head to the side, the stupid smirk you loathed pulling at his lips.

“Don’t be like that, doll.”

“I’ll do whatever I want! Leave me alone, I’m not going to fall at your feet like everyone else!” You stood up from the library where he had been absolutely intent on distracting you from finishing your homework, the reason for the fight in the first place.

You were the only one who didn’t give him every ounce of attention he desired, and he was determined to get it.

You sat on your bed, a folder of history homework open in front of you. You studied with music softly in the background, needing a break from trying to study with Bucky bothering you every five seconds.

“Y/N,” your mom called your name as she walked in the door.

You looked up, setting down the document on World War II. Your father was behind her, and you grew uneasy, wondering what they possibly felt they needed to both talk to you about.

“We’re worried about you, dear.”

“Worried? Why?” you laughed, surprised by their explanation.

“We’re just concerned that you don’t have the same social life people your age have. You seem to always be up here, studying in your room. We want you to meet some people, and have some fun,” your father explained.

You were confused by the explanation. You spent most of your time at school, and around other students. You did have friends, but you also prioritized your grades. You certainly were not the hermit they were making you out to be.

“You don’t need to worry-”

“But darling, you’ve never dated. One of our friends has the most charming son, and we think he’d be perfect for you. We want to set you up.” Your mother was smiling, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Perfect for me?”

“Yes! He’s so charming, and he’s sweet. He’s also incredibly intelligent, his grades are wonderful. He travels a lot, you know, has that worldly kind of sense. And, he’s beautiful. We were thinking of setting the two of you up, having them over for dinner.”

You couldn’t deny that this sounded too good to be true. The boy they were describing sounded perfect for you, and although you cringed at the idea of your parents setting you up, you were intrigued.

“What is his name?”

“James!” She beamed, and you raised your eyebrows.

“I will go on one blind date with him, if you stop giving me a hard time about my social life.”

“One date. You can meet him at dinner tomorrow, and then the two of you must go on one date. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But try for us, honey.”

“I will, I promise,” you smiled at your parents, excited and nervous to meet your supposed dream-man.

You dressed up for dinner once you were home from school. You’d never even seen this boy, and yet your tummy was filling with excited butterflies. Your name was called from downstairs, and you quickly ran down to meet them.

You nearly tripped over yourself as you stopped dead in your tracks. You were met with an all-too-familiar silver gaze, and the smirk that made you so, so angry.

“Bucky.”

Your voice was cold, and all of the butterflies shriveled up and died, the excitement fading from you. You were furious that you’d agreed to go on a date with him in addition to sitting through this dinner.

“You two know each other?” His mother asked, surprised.

“Quite well, actually. We have history together at school, right doll?” Bucky was trying not to laugh, only fueling your irritation.

“It’s Y/N. And we’ve met, yes.”

This motherfucker.

Dinner was long and painful, and you were forced to listen to what a perfect prince everybody thought Bucky was. You were surprised to hear about his academic standing, one that competed with your own. It was clear by his expression that he didn’t want the news to get out that he wasn’t a complete anarchist.

You cringed as your parents praised you too, unsure of who they were trying to impress. You were quiet, not giving a single damn about being polite to the boy you hated.

“Why don’t the two of you go upstairs?” your mom suggested, and you sighed, holding back a massive eye roll. Being alone with Bucky was about last on the list of things you wanted to do.

You stood up under the pressure of four gazes, and Bucy followed you up the flight of stairs. He couldn’t contain his amusement for the situation, and you walked into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Did you know it was me?”

“No, I really didn’t. But I’m glad it is.” He almost sounded sincere.

Bucky looked around your room, taking in the soft lavender walls, and the white bedspread that you sat on top of. Everything was soft and sweet, like you. Fairy lights hung above the bed, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bucky thought you looked beautiful.

“Quit staring at me,” you snipped, pulling your knees up to your chest.

He smiled, stepping in from the doorway and sitting beside you on the bed. You were angry at yourself for noticing the way the lights seemed to make him look golden, glinting in the reflection of huge silver eyes.

“How could I not?” He breathed, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

No. No, this is not happening. You will not let yourself be seduced by this cocky asshole.

“Save it for the date,” you rolled your eyes and he smirked.

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Bucky asked, and you shook your head with a face.

“No, of course not.”

“Come on, I’ll show you a good time. You’ll probably even realize that you’re in love with me.” His grin was infectious, but you fought off the urge to smile back.

“In love with you? Hardly.”

“I’ll give you one night. You’ll change your mind.”

“You seem confident,” you snarked, rolling your eyes at his arrogance.

“I always am.”

You watched him as his eyes traveled over the room, seeming to take everything in. Bucky noticed every small detail, including the sketch of daisies that leaned against the wall on top of your desk.

When he was finally called away, he stood in front of you, leaning over you with one hand on the wrought iron bed frame. A soft smile broke onto his face, and you felt warmth spread through your chest, reaching up to your cheeks.

“Goodnight, doll.”

You scowled at the dress that was laid out in the end of your bed when you got home from school. You’d been dreading the date, especially when Bucky winked at you during history class. He didn’t make a show of embarrassing you in front of his friends. You hadn’t even heard gossip about it, so he must not have told anybody.

You were a bit surprised, you thought that Bucky would seize the opportunity to be the subject of gossip and attention, dragging you into it with him.

Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you’d been set up for a friday date after school with Bucky. The doorbell rang, and you went to answer it, your eyes widening a bit when you saw him in jeans and a button down.

Fuck, he was handsome.

“Hi James.”

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” he said honestly, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from blossoming on your cheeks. He held up a bouquet of daisies, and you bit back a smile, taking your favorite flowers from him. You realized he noticed the drawing, and something about that made you feel fuzzy inside.

It was too bad you didn’t even like him.

“Let me set these down, thank you.”

You put them in a vase on the table, and he followed you.

“You didn’t tell everyone at school.” It was a statement, but you meant it as a question.

“Why would I? I knew you wouldn’t appreciate everyone in your business,” Bucky confessed. Despite the amusement he gained from getting on your nerves, Bucky did like you, and he did respect you. The idea of others participate in the teasing, more than just his bit of playfulness, upset Bucky.

He wanted you to like him.

You followed Bucky outside to his yellow car, one that was sort of vintage. He didn’t drive to school, and you realized you had never seen his car, but it somehow fit him. You got in the passenger seat, and he handed you the chord to play your own music.

You nervously scrolled through your phone, deciding that the safest bet for music was bon iver, and he broke into a smile, leaning forward to turn up the stereo.

“I love this song,” Bucky grinned, surprising you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning forward and watching the buildings pass by as he drove you to an unknown location.

“Just trust me.”

He parked and was opening your door for you before you could get out. You stepped out and took his outstretched hand, deciding you had to at least give this as much of an effort as he was.

His hand was soft and he squeezed you gently as he led you inside the huge aquarium in the city. It was your favorite place to go, and you wondered how Bucky knew that.

“You mentioned it once, in class,” he spoke as if he read your mind, or at least read the bright smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you remembered... Or that you even listened,” you laughed.

“I always listen.”

You walked through tunnels filled with colorful fish, and they swam around you on all sides, even under your feet. You gasped and pressed your hands to the glass, letting go of Bucky as you watched a sea turtle swim by. Bucky watched your delight, smiling at your excited squeal.

“Look!” you pointed, and he grinned.

“I see, it’s so cool,” he indulged you.

You moved through the tunnel, into a room of separate tanks, all smaller and holding their own creatures. You struggled to see the clown fish in the top, even standing on your toes.

“What’re you doing, doll?”

“Trying to see the nemo fish, but-” you squeaked as Bucky’s hands went around your waist, and he lifted you up so you could see. You blushed and smiled, looking at the fish swimming around. He gently set you down, and you wrapped your hands around his arm, a little bit shyly.

The two of you spent hours looking at the creatures, and you let him wrap his arms around your waist as you stood and watched the jellyfish.

“They’re so pretty!” you gasped, and Bucky could see the reflection in your wide eyes, and he couldn’t ignore how his heart raced when he looked at you.

You found yourself feeling the same way.

“This was great, James. I didn’t think you’d manage to win me over, but this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you confessed shyly as you left, the sky already dark. He beamed at you, his silver eyes lighting up when you smiled at him.

“I’m so glad, but we’re not finished yet, doll.”

“You spoil me,” you giggled, and he pulled you to the car.

“Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he hurried you, laughing as he got behind the wheel.

He drove to a park and got a blanket from the backseat, producing a basket that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Picnicking in the dark?”

“Hush and come with me,” he insisted, laying out the blanket on the grass and pulling the food out.

You bit into a piece of fruit, leaning against his side. You gasped as fireworks started to go off overhead, and you looked at Bucky, who just smiled back at you.

“I thought you’d like them.”

You watched the light and colors explode in the sky, enjoying the dinner he brought. You ended up leaning back against Bucky’s chest, wrapped in his jacket when you complained of being chilly. You couldn’t believe that over the course of a few hours, he had managed to work his way into your heart, and you were now in his arms.

“Do you want to come in and stay?” you asked Bucky as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I’m invited?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, grabbing sweats from his trunk, explaining that he always had a change of clothes, on account of being an athlete. You teased him with a giggle, going inside with him and up to your bedroom.

You changed into a pajama set and laid on your bed with him, the two of you staring up at the tiny, glittering fairy lights above you.

“You look perfect like this,” you whispered.

“Not as perfect as you.”

“What happens Monday? Do you go back to being an ass and I go back to hating you?” your voice was soft, and although you were joking, the fear behind it was real.

“I was hoping I could call you my girlfriend on Monday.”

You leaned over and kissed him, answering the question. When he kissed you back, it was like a million tiny fireworks exploding inside of you, instead of in the sky overhead.

“You changed my mind in one night.”

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wonlouvre · 3 years ago

Note

Hello I would like to request fluffy jeonghan and reader on a big family holiday, is it okay..? The format is up to you. Thank you and have a nice week, I really love your writing ❤

secure | y. jh.

pairing: jeonghan x g.n. reader genre: fluff warnings: alcohol drinking word count: 1.2k

💌: hey! thank you so much for sending this request. i wasn’t really sure if this is how you wanted it to go, but i hope you like it! thank you so much for loving my writing as well! i hope you have a great week ahead anon! <3

Your family’s tradition is to always have a reunion every 1st of January. It wasn’t necessarily a tradition passed down from one generation to another, but you remember when you were around eleven or twelve years old, your aunts and uncles invited everyone to a simple lunch to welcome the new year only for it to become so extravagant with so much food that it lasted until dinner.

That’s how it all started from your memory. It’s actually heartwarming that that one lunch invitation became a tradition that your family holds. It feels good to catch up and even reconcile over home made food paired with a little alcohol.

Eventually, your family got bigger with cousins getting married or having babies. Even your nieces and nephews bring their significant others, whether it be serious or not. Some are still in a relationship with their high school sweethearts while some have broken up.

You have never brought anyone special yourself though. Of course, you dated. But the relationship didn’t last for the rest of the year until next year. Your family has asked every single year if there is anyone you’re liking that they should look forward to and every time, your answer is a no or with a shrug of your shoulders. They would bring up names from time to time to pique up your interest, but that was about it.

This year, however, is different. Your family decided to go on a three-day trip. You, together with your siblings and cousins, booked a cottage with a private pool. Most of the kids have grown up and they have been begging to go swimming despite the season. Well, regardless of age, everyone would want a dip. Plus, there’s nothing to worry about when there’s technology to warm up the freezing cold water.

This year, as well, you’re bringing Jeonghan along with you.

“I have cousins who like to drink,” you warn while double checking his bag for extra socks. “But I know you’re a sailor, so I guess a warning doesn’t really matter.”

Jeonghan only giggles and wraps his arms around your waist, cheeks resting on your back.

“Oh, the little kids love handsome men,” you say and chuckle. “They will climb you, so prepare yourself.”

“You’re in love with me so I guess that’s out of the question.”

You can feel Jeonghan smirking against your back, making you roll your eyes. You jokingly elbow his stomach and he quickly flinches and laughs.

“I’m excited to meet your family, love,” Jeonghan whispers in all sincerity and kisses your neck, sparking a homey warmth in you.

You smile and turn your head to look at his face. He raises his eyebrows in question as he hugs you close to his chest again. You shake your head and press a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. That brings a smile on his face too before he has to let go and take the packing seriously.

The next morning, you and Jeonghan were on the road. Your siblings have families of their own so they brought their own vehicles. Meanwhile you parents tagged along with your aunts and uncles in one van as they don’t like driving for long hours anymore. You’re sure one of your cousins sacrificed and designated themselves as their driver. The rest were either also in their own vehicles or grouped themselves to whomever they wanted to ride with.

It took about three and a half hours to reach your destination. You managed to stay awake and accompany your boyfriend who’s driving all throughout. You give him a kiss as a thank you because you could have driven, but you’re sure you will drive his drunk butt on the way home. So, he takes the wheel on the first day.

However, settling down at the cottage itself took a while. The kids got so excited upon seeing the pool that they pestered their parents to immediately give them their swimsuits so they could finally dive into the water. Your aunts and uncles were shouting at each other (with good intentions) as they set up the food and drinks.

You could only smile and hold Jeonghan’s hand tighter. You give him a glance and you can tell he’s amused, but happy. You tug him with you to the kitchen. It’s only right you introduce him now before everyone else gets busier.

“Hey,” you greet and some look up from what they’re doing while some just acknowledge you with a nod. “This is Jeonghan, my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!” One of your nieces suddenly screams and emerges from the door separating the kitchen and the dining area, making you and Jeonghan jump in surprise. “Y/N has a boyfriend!”

You weren’t honestly expecting the kids to be curious about Jeonghan, much less the word boyfriend. Yet here they are, confirming what you mentioned to your boyfriend earlier that they will indeed climb him. All he could manage to say to the people you’re introducing him to was a quick good morning before he got pulled away by the little children.

The rest that were left behind in the kitchen could only laugh. You laugh along with them and take the seat beside your mother who’s currently preparing some ingredients. She gives you a small wink and you just shake your head.

“I must say Y/N, very handsome,” one of your aunts says while grinning at you. “How long have you been together?”

Your smile is beaming at the sound of the compliment. “Quite a while now.”

“He has a job, right?” Your uncle suddenly shouts from the garden outside which shocks you because you thought he wouldn’t hear.

“Of course he has,” your father, who was talking with him, answers for you and that’s more than enough for him to close his mouth.

Your immediate family has met Jeonghan countless times before. He has celebrated birthdays and other several milestones with you so they are more than familiar with him already. Every person who wishes to introduce the love of their life to their family is surely nervous and you’re no different. At first, it was like that. But Jeonghan was perfect in every step of the way. By perfect you mean he made efforts to win your family’s heart by staying true to himself.

Jeonghan perfectly proved his honest love for you.

So you weren’t really worried or bothered about this family reunion slash vacation. You can see with your two eyes that the kids love Jeonghan and so does the rest of the family as they shake his hand as he politely introduces himself.

Later in the quiet of the night where almost everyone is fast asleep, the two of you find comfort in the small porch outside the cottage. It’s a bit chilly, but nothing the two of you can’t handle. Jeonghan nestles his face to your chest and locks his arms around your waist. He’s a bit tipsy after drinking with your family, but he insists he’s not drunk.

“We have two more days left here,” you whisper against the crown of his head. “Are you okay?”

“Hmmm,” Jeonghan hums, his hot breath fanning against your neck. “You bet I am.”

You chuckle and kiss him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Jeonghan detaches himself from you and leans down to kiss your lips briefly, careful not to get caught by the family he’s trying to impress. You couldn’t return the kiss, but the feeling still made you close your eyes.

“I love you, “ Jeonghan whispers, enough to make blood rush to your face. “Thank you for introducing me to your family.”

You kiss his red and puffy lips before whispering against them, “I love you too.”

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