#OKAY BUT I HAVE SO MANY NEW BLOCKS TO PLAY WITH MAYBE LOSING MY OLD SAVE ISN'T THE END OF THE WORLD

[c4ts4ndstuff]

the "foundation" of the castle will use prismarine blocks btw, here's a rough example

i can't decide, and i keep forgetting about all the blocks they've added in the past few years which makes me excited and harder to make a decision

[joelsgoldrush]

“never is a promise” | 12.4k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left���” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”

“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.

Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.

In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.

But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.

You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so na��ve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.

Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.

As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.

Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.

Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.

While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.

Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.

Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.

As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.

The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.

The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.

Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.

The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life.

The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.

Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.

The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.

On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.

But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.

All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.

Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—”

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.

Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.

Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.

Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.

You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.

Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.

Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.

“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.

Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.

He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.

“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.

Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.

The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.

“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.

Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.

Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.

You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.

He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.

Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.

“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.

You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.

Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.

You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.

He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.

Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.

You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.

But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.

He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.

You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.

It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”

Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.

His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.

Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”

You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.

Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.

The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.

Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.

You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.

He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.

“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.

You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[thewolfruns]

get to know the author!

name : lucia

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : i like a tumblr im at first, but then it's discord once we know one another/are mutuals. i'm super adhd/working/a mom, so it's easy for me to lose track thinking i've responded to messages that really i just read and then replied in my head to. so don't be afraid to double message me.

most active muse :  hmmm, i'm not sure who is most active? maybe blanca, since she's a newer one and i'm trying to figure her out.

experience / how many years : oh, gosh. well, i've sort of rped earlier than tumblr, but it was a long time ago. i'd say i started on tumblr in maybe 2013? 2012? i ran a game of thrones fashion blog lmao and an rp hit me up for a promo. i was like, this seems cool and joined. then i joined hellstate in 2015, which was a zombie rp and where i met velouria! we've been writing together ever since both in groups and indie.

best experience : i miss group rp a lot sometimes, because of the shared universe and like community there. i think hellstate was my best experience and like 2015 hellstate was peak. there's so much like shared lore and it's really fun when a group works. velouria has had quite a few amazing brainchildren we've built together, so maybe another fave would be southboundhq, which deserved so much more time! now we work on verses and that's p great. aside from that, i've really been enjoying this account since i started fresh. i've got quite a few people to write with who seem both interested in worldbuilding/their own muses and in mine as well. so thank you all!

rp pet peeves : oh, gosh. weird vocabulary fads? like eyes being called hues. there's nothing really wrong with it, but it makes me laugh at how things like that really catch on in the rpc. when folks don't have much to add in plotting conversations and it feels sort of like you're the only one keeping the conversation going. i feel too awkward! i can't do it!

fluff, angst, or smut : oh, gosh, angst. i don't write smut and i'm not really super into fluff either? unless it's like a little meme answer or drabble, which can be a nice refresher. but i'm here for the horror and drama okay.

plots or memes : i like a loose plot, but i'm very go with the flow. it's more exciting though to have an idea where we're going with something. i think that's why my open starters are so long lmao because i need to paint a clear picture of where it's going.

long or short replies : i like a short reply for when i'm trying to break out of a writer's block or, like right now, dusting off my writing cap. they almost always turn into much longer replies though. i can't stop myself. i want like 87 paragraphs and i have no chill.

time to write : has to be nighttime, babies. i have a pretty great couple hours like 8 nights a month where i can really get to writing. it's always after my kiddo goes to sleep and my spouse is working (unless we're like parallel playing and he's gaming or cooking or something, then i get a little more time).

are you like your muses : oh, there's definitely aspects of myself in most of my muses. or people i know. or i write muses to work through certain things (i.e. neve has a lot of job similarities/family history for working through some trauma, nadja has some old punk rock memories and sort of an amalgamation of old friends and my mom, miguel has sort of similar personality to my partner, etc.) i sort of just steal elements from myself or people i know and mold them together into someone new. but i don't think i share like an overall personality with any of them.

tagged by: @missmvrder

tagging: @someotherdog , @wynterlanding , @mutatedangels , @peachyuus , @mctionsick , @aliasmultimuse , and anybody else! tagging folks gives me anxiety lmao. i hate leaving people out.

[mikewheely]

Answering a LOT of questions about Mike Wheeler.

Here I go again...

First of all, hello lupon (whom i eventually had to block because i was losing brain cells rapidly), the way your questions have followed looks like you  have your own answers and interpretations for those. But still, since you have asked me, I will answer them. 

Okay, first of all, the thing you and many have misinterpreted here is that he “hated” D&D in ST3. He cannot suddenly start hating something for no reason that he has been doing since a long time. He had just become less interested and developed a sort of indifference towards the game because he had other things in his mind. And as much many people would hate to hear that, it was mainly El, if not solely, and maybe other new teenage stuff he wanted to do like everyone else. For instance, sneaking into the movie theatre with his friends to watch R-rated movies that they were not allowed to watch. The thing about Mike is his priorities change, I can say that because it is the same for me. Just because I am interested in one thing at a given point of time, does not mean I hate all the things that have made me feel interested before. His indifference towards D&D probably looks even stronger than it actually is, even though it was the same for Lucas, is because Will was more interested in playing it and that was all he cared about. That’s what makes the contrast of the two mentalities even stronger. Mike had El to spend time with, that he had missed for almost a year, so his priorities shifted towards that. Now in ST4 as El was away and he did not exactly have anything stronger to pay attention to, he joined the Hellfire Club and went back to explore his old interests as he found likeminded people there.

This question is something I don’t understand? Yeah, so he has used the word “super” a few times, does that have to be anything that significant? El is a superhero, because well, she is. Will was a super spy because the Mind Flayer chose Will as his spy who can literally be manipulated into finding out anything he wants. He was like Mind Flayer’s main guy. Dustin missing his collar bones maybe made him different from the rest completely, maybe that is why it is like a superpower? Idk, maybe you are reading too much into this. 

You can read the analysis of the van scene here.

I think your first question is actually directly linked to your second question, that he was weird and different mostly because he did not hug Will properly. While this  is a difficult one to answer and I have also wondered that myself, but there are different interpretations from other people that I can mention here for you. Someone had said that Will was actually more weirded out by the situation than Mike. Maybe? IDK. But I think, as it was revealed later, that they had grown distant, they didn’t talk much on phone either. And when you suddenly grow distant from a person whom you were so close with for such a long time, maybe things can get complicated. It could be that one of his best friends, Will, who has been in Hawkins all these years suddenly goes away, it would have an impact on anyone, just like it may have had on Mike. Maybe distancing himself from the thought that he missed Will in Hawkins (like he mentions, “it’s not the same without you”) was his way of accepting the change that he disliked. 

I myself have a hard time accepting change, so I will share a small personal experience. Before my sister’s marriage, I had started distancing myself because I was not ready to accept the upcoming change. I did not even take much part in the arrangements for the wedding because of the same reason which my sister thought was because I didn’t care much about the whole wedding thing. I cried a lot when she left, but I also accepted it fast because I had already dealt with my share of fear and sadness. Now if you ask me, do I miss her, I would say, not really. Because I have learnt to live with it. That does not mean I don’t care about her or love her any less. Maybe Mike also has a similar kind of coping mechanism to deal with change. But again, it may have other reasons that haven’t really crossed my mind yet.

Why would he cry without any reason? When he had, he did cry. But just in general, people who have a hard time expressing their vulnerability, like Mike, find it difficult to cry, because crying over something means you express your vulnerability towards it. It means you have accepted that something affects you so deeply, and if others are there to watch it while you cry (even worse), it also means they also know what has the capability of breaking you. You cannot really apply any defense mechanism after that. However, he cried when he was saying goodbye to Will and El at the end of ST3. It wasn’t shown explicitly but from his face you could tell he was crying.

Here is a clear shot of Mike crying in ST4 when El was not waking up. Not teary-eyed, crying. You will see the drop of tears on the tip of his nose. You can rewatch scene for a clearer view. 

Moving on to the next question.

Mike had two love confessions? Do you mean the one that he accidentally blurts out in ST3 Episode 6? That was him accidentally admitting he loves El, he didn’t even know he was going to say that, he himself was shocked that he really said out loud in the heat of the moment. As far as we know, he did not say it directly to El. He had difficulty expressing it fully in the grocery store conversation in ST3, and even at Surfer Boy in ST4. Also, he was interrupted by Dustin and Argyle respectively. That was also a strategy, a technicality of storytelling, to save the confession for a crucial moment that can act as a significant factor behind a lot of occurrences and also have the required emotional impact on the audience. 

Apart from that, the whole situation was something like El was upset with him particularly because he never verbally expressed it TO HER. And ever since he realized that he has hurt her by doing so, he has repeatedly said that he wished he could explain himself, to which Will has said that he can tell her what he wanted to when he meets her again. So, if you can link these things properly, logically, it feels absolutely reasonable and appropriate as far as the storytelling goes. Not redundant. 

In including this situation, you get to address a few things. Mike’s struggles, a growth in the relationship between Mike and El as they move on to explore more mature problems in a relationship, and it also gives a scope to Will to express his side of the story, explicitly to the audience, if not to Mike.

It is easy to compare because certain individuals’ brains are inclined towards finding similarities and looking for signs or considering something as a sign because it makes them feel better, happy, hopeful. “I love you” and “It was the best thing I have ever done” are two completely different sentences, and as far as I know, isn’t it normal for a person to love one of their best friends that he or she has known since childhood? I think the whole point of calling someone your ‘best friend’ or even just ‘friend’ comes primarily from the feeling of love. If that’s the case, they are bound to be important to you. And the way the ‘crazy together’ scene has been repeatedly misinterpreted, irrespective of what Mike and Will’s relationship turns out to be in the end, is ridiculous. In that scene Will is talking about his trauma related to the horrifying visions of the Upside Down, and Mike is talking about El. They find a common ground when they realize they are both talking about things that people won’t really understand, things that are making them think that they are losing their mind. That is why he says, we will go crazy together, which was just a way of acknowledging that they have each other’s back in this difficult time when they are both dealing with a lot and not talking about much. About the “I didn’t say it” and “I guess I did”, I don’t understand which scenes you are referring to here exactly. Sorry.

About Mike’s reaction when he gets to know that Will has feelings for him, I cannot completely say it. Maybe he would be surprised and take a little time to process it. And I am not that good at predictions, so I guess we will wait and watch what happens. But I can reflect on what has already happened, so I could say all of the things I have said before.

I think we are living in a time where the cancel culture is taking over and people are ready to interpret everything in a weird, twisted way so that they can point out how problematic things are without completely understanding the situation. Not all of it is pointless, but some of it, yes, often to a ridiculous extent. Like not shipping Mike with Will is apparently “homophobic”. Mike not showing romantic love towards Will is “homophobic” as well. Honestly, my brain can’t comprehend this. Just because something is a relevant issue, does not mean we have to apply it everywhere and twist everything that comes our way. 

If you consider one sentence or a single phrase, and not consider what has happened or has been said before or after that, it is very easy to misconstrue statements. What makes him say that is Will claiming Mike is destroying everything for some ‘stupid girl’ and what Mike says after stating that is “I’m not trying to be jerk, okay?” You know how sometimes we say something but it comes out wrong or sounds inappropriate without us actually intending to say it that way? It even happens with Finn. He would say something and then realize it sounded wrong and he apologizes immediately. It was the same when Mike said that. What he meant was he, Lucas, Dustin, they all had girlfriends and were very interested in that involvement. So the fact that Will is mad and are blaming this situation, especially referring to El, is something Mike cannot do anything about. Because Will was the only one not interested in having a girlfriend unlike the rest of the three. But then he realized that he sounded wrong, which made him say that he was not trying to be a jerk. 

In terms of storytelling, it was a clear-cut hint for the audience to pick up that maybe Will could be gay. I have watched reaction videos on YouTube and I have seen people starting to question, “Wait, does this mean Will is gay?” Because many people who watch the show but are not really so deeply involved in the hullabaloo of the fandom, hadn’t really picked up that Will’s sexual orientation had been hinted at since the beginning of the story.  So apart from affecting the equation between the characters, it also had the purpose of indicating something to the audience from the technical perspective of storytelling. 

I hope that answered your questions. 

[strawberry-jammers]

A Child to Protect (pt 5)

tommy x child!reader || Confronting an old friend

tommy comes home to tubbo and ranboo waiting in the living room for...something. 

pt1 pt 2 pt3 pt4

masterlist

sorry this took awhile, i was having some struggles lmao. its not the best but the next few parts will hopefully be good lol

word count: 3215

ask if you wanna be tagged for this seires lmao

~~~~~~~~~

Techno sat in the main part of the room with ranboo and tubbo. They stared at each other awkwardly. Honestly tubbo didn't expect to be in the piglins home today, especially after what had happened. Ranboo shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable with the tension in the air. They saw techno almost glare at tubbo, while the goat in turn decided to glare back.

“Um, are you two okay?” ranboo asked the two of them. Techno nodded, not saying a word, as usual. He was just waiting for Tommy to get there to change the focus or something. Tubbo didn't do anything to acknowledge the question, just glaring at the piglin. “Okay, this is awkward." The enderman whispers to themself. "Techno, hows living in the tundra?” techno looks at ranboo with a blank face, tired of having these two here. “cold.” ranboo nodded. ‘Cold’ not being the answer they were looking for. “Oookay. Tubbo, do you like the tundra at all?'' Tubbo shook his head, having a stare down with the piglin, who had gone back to glaring at the hybrid. “No.”

Ranboo sighed, slinking down into the chair. “You guys are helpless…” ranboo says, sighing tiredly. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Techno jumped up from his seat and looked out the window to see who it was. He smiled, opening the door to the mystery guest. “Finally you're here. Now they can focus their attention on you instead. Good luck with that.” techno says. He moved to reveal Tommy, carrying his kid with him.

Tubbo and ranboo stood up, shocked to see their supposed deceased friend, standing in the doorway holding a child. Ranboo walked over cautiously. “Tommy?” he asked. Tommy looked up at the tall enderman. He nodded, holding the young kid tightly. He really didn't wanna be there, but he knew his kid needed to be back here.

 (y/n) looked up at the enderman hybrid, smiling brightly. “Endy endy!!” they said. Ranboo looked down at them, confused a bit. “Whos this?” they asked the young boy. The kid continued to say ‘endy’ while the two of them talked.

Tommy sighed. “This is my kid..(y/n)” he says, looking at the young child. Ranboo looks at the small child, who smiled at them happily. “Endy!!” they said once more. “No no (y/n), this is ranboo. The good man i told you about.” (y/n) smiled even wider. “Ran ran!!!! Papa told me about you!!!! Good man, good man!!” they said. 

The child's presence lifted the awkward atmosphere that once resided in the room. (y/n) smiled at the enderman, who was nearly in tears from the fact tommy was alive and well, raising a child at that. Ranboo immediately hugged two of them, scarring tommy. “Aye aye get off!” tommy said, not knowing how else to respond. “Sorry sorry, i'm just really happy your alive.” tommy looked at ranboo, gapping his mouth. “Dead!? Why would you think that???” tommy asked. Ranboo smiled awkwardly. “Well…” “tommy?” the two of them turned their head to see their part goat friend, who had finally spoken up. 

“Tubbo..” tommy says, stepping around ranboo to see his old friend. “Ranboo take (y/n).” tommy instructs. Ranboo nodes, taking the small child, who wasn't too happy to leave their father. 

Tommy walks closer to his old friend, who was shocked to see him, barely able to say anything. “Y-your alive!! I thought you died-``Tubbo couldn't continue his sentence. He missed his old friend, and was really happy to see him! He just felt terrible for sending him to his near death…even if it was the only option he had. 

Techno and ranboo went outside, leaving the two of them alone (though techno tried to leave several times). (y/n) was sad they couldn't play with their father, but they did have a new friend, who was really nice.

“Is papa okay?” the young one asked. “Yeah I think he's gonna be fine..wanna play in the snow?” ranboo asked the kid. They nodded, being set down and running into the snow. The enderman chuckled, watching them pick themselves back up and falling again. The enderman did notice, however, the many snowmen that littered the lawn. Some looked like people they knew, one even looked like them. they smiled, seeing the young child show off the one they made of their father.

Back in the house, Tommy and tubbo stood in the middle of the home, staring at each other intensely. 

"So...you're alive? Living with techno?" Tubbo asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Why would you think I'd be dead??" Tubbo looked down a bit. "Well, everything was destroyed and...there was a tower I- I thought you…." Tubbo trails off before finishing. “Oh, that..” Tommy looked down a bit, frowning. “Why'd you do it? Why'd you send me away to isolation? `` Tubbo frowns, tilting his head. “It wasn't supposed to be isolation. I-i thought you just chose to live there..” 

Tommy went over and sat down, sighing. “I really dont wanna talk about this. Can you just tell ranboo to bring (y/n) in here..” tubbo shook his head. “I feel like we need to talk about this, I mean you've been gone for months! You have a kid! What happened?” tommy glared at tubbo. “I told you i dont wanna talk about it, just drop it.” he says, getting up again and heading to the front door. “No! We’re talking about this.” Tubbo goes over and grabs Tommy's arm. He yanks it away from him. “I told you I'm not talking about it! Fucking drop it already!” tubbo let go, stepping back slightly.

“Why won't you talk to me? We’re best friends-”

“We haven't been friends since the exile, since one of your men came here and nearly killed my child! The only reason i wasn't here was cause that lunatic tried to attack me!” tubbo shook his head. “I'm not the one that sent him here-”

“Then explain to me why you're here!”

 the yelling started to get louder, leaving the young child to be concerned. They looked up at ranboo, who was silently screaming cause of the snow. “Ran ran are you sure papas okay? There's a lot of yelling..” ranboo looked over to the house, noticing the yelling as well. “I-im not sure, but we shouldn't interrupt them…” (y/n) looked over to the house, really wanting to see their father. They gasped, remembering a way they could get inside.

“Ran ran!! Follow follow!!” they say, pulling on the endermans pant leg. Ranboo sighed, following the small child to wherever they were gonna bring him. “I'll just stay here!” techno says, laying in the snow.

They, basically waddled, to the back of the house. Ranboo looked around, not really seeing anything. “What did you wanna show me?” they asked. (y/n) looked up at ranboo, pointing to the wall. “Break.” they stood, a bit confused. “You want me to take some of the wall?” the kid nodded, pointing to the wall. “Enderman do the same! Just break.” they nodded, kinda understanding what they were asking. They didnt know if the other two would notice, but they normally break blocks pretty silently anyways.

Ranboo looked at the wall, seeing where the chests would be and where the fireplace was, and broke one of the blocks. They looked in between the chests to see that the others were still arguing and hadn't noticed them. (y/n) pulled on the hybrids pant leg, signaling for them to pick them up to see. Ranboo does so, gesturing for them to be quiet.

Back with the other two, they were having a heated argument. Discussing quackity and his actions, discussing Tommy and his exile, along with bringing up the past such as wilbur and old lmanburg. 

“Well I'm sorry we decided to even form the country! Y'know, we all wanted to find independence!” tubbo says, snapping at tommy.

“It's not that! Its new lmanburg, its lost all meaning!! One of your men, whent and tried to kill techno and I! You said you didn't even send him here!! “

“Why do you keep saying ‘your men’, you know this is also your country right?” 

Tommy glares at Tubbo, stepping away from him. “It hasn't been my country, for a long time. Not sense schlatt took over.'' Tommy looks over, avoiding tubbos' gaze. “Technos gonna destroy the country, and I won't stop him. I know how he is, he's gonna want it gone. Maybe once it is gone, we can start over, not with a country but with a place we could just...live. Together, all of us..'' Tommy says, looking back at tubbo. “You want lmanburg gone? After all we've done!? After what we lost to gain independence!!??'' Tommy nodded. “Lmanburg is more the people than the land. If we’re all together, it'll be the same. The same old lmanburg.”

Tubbo sighs, still angry at the blond before him. “You gave dream the discs for this place, you gave him the one thing we had! Now you wanna get rid of the country we traded it for?” 

“Well, who said we werent gonna get them back?” tommy steps forward again. “You have one of them right?” tubbo nodded, staring at the enderchest in the room. “We already have half of what we need, all we need to do is get the last one. You prepared to lose lmanburg to get them back?” tommy asked. Tubbo contemplated for a second. “No, I'm not. But…"

The two of them talked, no longer upset at the other. They were best friends for years, it's hard to stay mad at each other. Ranboo and (y/n) looked at each other, confused as to how they had just calmed down after such a heated argument. (y/n) ran back over to the front of the house, ranboo running after them. “No no, (y/n) come back please!” (y/n) didn't listen, instead running to the front of the house and trying to open the door. It was left ajar, so it was easy to do so. 

“Dad!!” the young kid said, rushing over towards their father. Tommy looked over to see his kid run over towards him. He smiled as they ran into his legs. He picks them up. "Hey kiddo, whatcha doing back here? Weren't you playing outside playing with ranboo?" They nodded. "Yeah but I was worried!! There was yelling…" Tommy sighs, ruffling the young kids' hair. "I'm okay lil (n/n), everythings alright. Big man Tommy was just talking to tubbo." They looked over to the boy in question, who awkwardly stood there. 

"I think I should get going. Don't wanna make things worse.” (y/n) looked at the goat hybrid and frowned. They pushed their way out of tommys arms, landing on the floor with a huff. Everyone just stared at the young kid as they picked themself up and ran into the goats legs. “Tub don't go! You just got here…” tubbo smiled a bit, leaning down to be eye to eye as (y/n). “I don't think I should stick around. Maybe I'll see you again..” they hugged tubbo, repeating for him not to leave. 

Ranboo picked up the small child, who did not wanna be picked up. “He needs to leave (n/n). Don't worry, you'll see him again.” they huff, nodding. Ranboo chuckled at this. 

Tubbo stood back up looking at tommy once more. “Goodbye tommy. I hope your happy.” with that, tubbo left, leaving ranboo and tommy behind. Tubbo passed by techno as he left, noticing how he was just sitting in front of the door. “Why are you sitting out here?” techno looked up at the male. “Idk mr.government, maybe because i got kicked out of my own home. Again.” tubbo sighed, opting to just ignore the piglin and continue on his way to lmanburg.

Ranboo looked over at Tommy, who seemed to be processing a lot of emotions. Tommy looked over and ranboo and (y/n), smiling a bit before sitting down in one of the few chairs in the room. 

“I really don't like that kid. I don't know why he bothered to come here.” technoblade says, closing the front door that had started to let snow in. He went over to brew some potions, as he needed to go to lmanburg the next day. Ranboo sighed, letting (y/n) out of their arms. They shifted slightly. (y/n) went over to sit with Tommy, who held them tightly. “Um, i think i should leave as well, don't wanna overstay my welcome.” technoblade chuckled a bit. “You don't have to leave, kid. I think you should stay for at least dinner. If you want.” tommy nodded, not really wanting the enderman to leave.

“Oh, well thank you techno, tommy.'' Just then, the door swung open, letting in even more cold air than there already was. They all turned to see philza, who looked like he had just ran here. “What the FUCK happend in lmanburg??” techno looked at Phil a bit confused. “Oh the quackity thing?”

Philza walked in, closing the door. “Yeah but also, why the hell is fundy and quackity dead and WHY IS THE PLACE ON FIRE?? Techno i told you not to do this high level of terrorism yet.” techno looked confused, stopping his potion brewing. “I didn't set the place on fire? I did kill those two tho, they did not fight back. Well, quackity did but he sucks at it.” 

“Wait then who set the place on fire?” phil asked, no longer upset. “Oh i did.” they turned to ranboo, who raised their hand up slightly. “What?” 

“All i did was set the place on fire as a diversion..” 

“Mate the place is basically gone now..” philza said, sitting next to tommy. Ranboo chuckled. “Yeaaahh that wasn't the plan. I just wanted to create a diversion to get out of there..” techno chuckled. “Didn't notice that was you. Good job kid.” techno went back to his brewing, making a bunch of invis potions. “Dadza!” (y/n) said, now noticing the winged man who had sat next to them. They were too focused on tommys scarf. Phil chuckled, picking up the small child. “Hey kiddo. How has things been while i was gone?” tommy chuckled seeing the two of them talk. (y/n) talked about all the things they did in the time he was gone. Ranboo went over to help techno make potions, grabbing things he needed and such. 

It was peaceful like this. Tommy phil and (y/n) all chatted amongst themselves, (y/n) on occasion playing with some random item in the house. When techno and ranboo were done with the potions, they joined the others in their conversation, all of them talking and cracking jokes amongst themselves. It was peaceful, there were no countries or wars, no dream, no trauma, none of that. It was just a couple of friends or family, talking and having fun.

Somewhere down the line, phil and techno whent to make dinner, sense it was awhile sense (y/n) or anyone had eaten any food. The 3 kids decided to play around with some swords tommy and techno had made. (y/n) chased the other two around, playfully trying to hit them whenever they got close. Ranboo dramatically died when (y/n) had stabbed them, while Tommy vowed revenge on the small child. He poked them with the sword, saying he had defeated the evil. (y/n) went into a fit of giggles, saying they could never die cause their immortal, and in turn stabbed tommy. He wanted to stubbornly try to beat them, but he thought it was more fun to go with it. Tommy dramatically dropped his sword and fell to the floor, pretending to be ‘dead’. 

“Stop playing around, foods done.” techno said, entering the main part of the room. (y/n) jumped up, running into the kitchen, excited for food. Ranboo and Tommy got up from their laying positions, wanting to get some food as well.

So they ate, continuing to talk to each other as they did before. Ranboo felt a bit awkward being there, but overtime he felt more comfortable. Tommy talked to phil and techno, occasionally having to tell (y/n) to actually eat their food. 

Once supper was over, phil has suggested that ranboo stays with tommy and (y/n) for the night, since it had already gotten dark out. Techno and ranboo both protested, granted for different reasons, though no one can fight philza. (y/n) was really giddy about this, running around their bedroom, knocking into the prime log a few times. Ranboo climbed down the latter, seeing this. Tommy was making sure they didn't run into the log again, not noticing the enderman.

“(y/n) you know it's time for bed.” Tommy says, grabbing his kid as they try to run away. “No! No sleep!” they tried to wrestle out of tommys arms, it obviously didn't work. “Yes, sleep. Your gonna get too tired to run soon anyways.`` He places them in their bed, trying to make them stay. Ranboo walks over, crouching down to see the kid better, they smiled when they saw the tall enderman. “Ran!!” they said, making the grabby hands at the tall enderman. They smiled, ruffling the kids hair. “(y/n) you need to sleep.” is all ranboo says, making (y/n) frown. “How bout this, i'll give you a cookie tomorrow if you sleep. Deal?” tommy asked. They nodded, laying down on their bed. They both laughed, tommy tucking them in for the night while ranboo stood up, not sure on what to do. 

Tommy got up soon after, looking over at ranboo had just stood there. “You can sleep on my bed big man, I'll either make another one or just sleep on the floor.” Tommy says, going over to his chest in the corner, seeing if he had any left over wool. Ranboo shook their head. “No no, I can sleep on the floor, it's fine. This is your home after all.” tommy looked over at ranboo, glaring at him. “You will listen, bitch.” ranboo sighed. “Fine fine, I'm just saying..” ranboo walked over to the bed, sitting down on it, watching Tommy mess around with some wood and wool. 

When Tommy was done, he put the bed in a random spot in the room. Tommy turned off the only light in the room, signalling that they were going to bed. Ranboo laid down, followed by tommy. They laid like that for a while, not really being able to sleep.

Ranboo looked over, sighing quietly to themself. “I'm sorry about the whole tubbo thing..it wasn't our plan to come here after what happened..” 

“Its fine, it was bound to happen eventually. Thanks for staying with my kid for a bit,you didn't have to…” ranboo nodded. “It was no trouble, they seem to like me.” ranboo says, looking over to see the sleeping child next to them. “Well, still. Thank you ranboo. Your a good man.” 

“So are you tommy..” 

They sleep after that, finally being able to rest for the night.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (June 9/2021) -        New Citizens

Ponk has a chat with Sam, Fundy and Purpled officially join Las Nevadas, and Ranboo receives an update message from the Council.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Fundy

Purpled

Ranboo

---

- Ponk continues building the bridge in his new valley

- He returns to Foolish’s summer home and finds the countersuit Puffy left. He reads it. Many of the claims he doesn’t think are actually against the law of the land. He insists he wasn’t quoting Roadtrip during his Banquet speech, but rather an old man

- Ponk will have the best lawyers (he also may pay the jury off but don’t tell anyone). He’s amused that Puffy would work with BadBoyHalo and call Ponk the ‘dirty Eggpire supporter’

- He finishes reading the lore suit and greets Purpled in chat, telling him that he’s getting sued by Puffy

- Sam logs on and Ponk takes him over to the valley. They’ve had their differences, but Ponk is in need of a good lawyer. Sam suggests Tubbo, but Tubbo is expensive and intimidating

- Ponk points out that Sam will be the only one in the jury with an elevated IQ like his own. Sam hasn’t been officially selected for the jury yet, and they might think he’s biased, having cut off Ponk’s arm (Sam says he did it for good reason)

- They reach the valley and Sam approves of Ponk’s bridge

Sam: “You can see Kinoko Kingdom from here.”

Ponk: “(gagging sound) No, you can see Niki’s place! Niki’s communist cult! It’s great! We’re gonna set up a nice trade agreement, and (mumbling) then we’ll burn Kinoko Kingdom down to the groun-- I mean, then we’ll have nice trade deals with everyone, you know?”

- Ponk is bitter about losing his arm and Sam blames it on him for stealing the keycards

Ponk: “Sam...just so you know, just so you know...You can come to me after...after everything. I will still support you, Sam, okay? You’ll have a place to stay, because, all the wrong you’ve done is gonna catch up behind you, you know? All the wrong that you’ve done--”

Sam: “I haven’t really done anything wrong.”

Ponk: “Haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”

Sam: “No, I think I’m a good guy.”

Ponk: “You think you’re a good person?”

Sam: “I don’t know, you don’t think I’m a good person?”

Ponk: “I mean -- my opinions are biased.”

- Ponk asks Sam to walk and talk with him on the way back to Spawn. Sam’s spoken with Purpled recently

- They visit the animal sanctuary and Sam suggests they steal the strider. Ponk tells him stealing is bad. Sam wants to let it out. They play with the strider a bit

- Ponk explains his conflict with Puffy in general terms

Sam: “Look, I have a random crossbow from one of those guys that we killed.”

Ponk: “You said that so casually...life is precious, you know.”

- Ponk asks about the bank. He’s free to work. Sam says it’s up to Hannah. The two discuss the bank system

- Ponk hasn’t seen Technoblade in a while. Sam thinks he must be overthrowing governments in a far off land or something

- Ponk offers to trade with Sam for two stacks of redstone blocks. He asks how much for his arm back. Sam says he destroyed it. Ponk is upset that Sam didn’t keep it, but Sam says it was too mangled

- Sam trades some gold for the redstone

- They fight a raid together and capture a Ravager

- The two continue to chat for a while

- Fundy stands by his bed. He had a great sleep! He dreamt about a Windows update and he’s looking...a little sleepy?

- He checks the to-do list. Today’s the day. He grabs some things for the road. Fundy decides he’ll go alone. He doesn’t want to risk losing his snow fox friend

- He says hi to his Aunt Panisha (a salmon in the river) as he sets off, asking her to wish him luck

- Fundy reaches Las Nevadas wonders where Quackity’s office is. After some deduction, he heads to the Needle and spots Quackity going up the elevator

- After some hesitation, Fundy goes up the elevator too and comes face-to-face with Quackity, who sees him and asks if he’s okay. Fundy says he’s doing fine, he had a weird sleep and may have woke up outside the window

- Fundy tells him that he took his advice and bettered himself. They sit at the table and Fundy shows him his new diet. Quackity says he’s proud of him

- Fundy mentions that last time they spoke, he suggested they play cards and back at home, he didn’t sleep because he was waiting for Quackity to come over...and then he didn’t

- Quackity explains he just had a bunch of paperwork to do

- Fundy spots some slime blocks bunched at the side of the room and asks what that’s about. Quackity says it’s “a friend” of his, that he’s probably asleep

- Quackity gets Charlie to emerge from the slime

Charlie: “Hey, Fundy from L’manburg!”

- He was in the middle of his gloop-morphosis. Fundy is confused at how he knows who he is. Charlie digs into the floor and gets Fundy to greet him, slurping up some slime

- Quackity tells Charlie he needs to speak with Fundy. Charlie says he can “sell it” and starts telling Fundy he looks like he wants to gamble. Fundy asks Quackity why he’s talking like this, and Quackity says he must have learned it from TV

- Fundy finds out that Charlie is incredibly old and asks Charlie about how he knew he was from L’manburg. Charlie declares them best friends

- Fundy tells Quackity that he’s changed, that he’s a better man. Quackity thinks it’s great, but he doesn’t want Fundy to portray a false version of himself

- Charlie looks at Fundy close-up and says he hasn’t changed

- Quackity doesn’t want Fundy to join under these conditions. Fundy insists he’s fine, he isn’t portraying a false version of himself

- Fundy’s lived in that cottage for way too long. All these nightmares are because of him interacting with people and he’s ruining it for them -- but ever since he’s improved himself and become more healthy, he hasn’t had those nightmares

- Quackity has thought about it a lot, and Fundy’s work in L’manburg was exceptional. He thinks Las Nevadas will be a stepping stone to Fundy’s success

- Charlie gets Fundy to smell him and asks him what it’s like to dream. Fundy sniffs and maybe swallows a piece of Charlie. Charlie tells him one day he’ll be whole again

- Quackity passes Charlie a bone of one of their “mutual friends” in L’manburg and asks Charlie to analyze it

- Quackity and Fundy leave Charlie in the Needle and go back down. Quackity brings him downstairs, where he tells Fundy there’s no going back. He wants to make sure Fundy can trust him and hands Fundy a book to sign:

---

All persons naturalized in Las Nevadas, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of Las Nevadas and the land wherein they reside.

The signing of this document subjects you to the rights and duties of the nation:

TAXES. Residents are required to pay a jurisdictional and financial charge to the nation to fund future projects and development of the nation. Failure to pay could result in the extinction of your permanent residence and possibly death.

MILITARY PARTICIPATION.  One of your duties as a resident of Las Nevadas is the complete protection of the nation. You’re required to participate in any wars, conflicts, or disputes of the nation, in favor of Las Nevadas.

LAND. One of your rights as a resident of Las Nevadas is a self assigned plot of land, approved by the proper authorities, to develop productive businesses, homes, entertainment centers, etc.

GAMBLING. Gambling is defined as staking of something of value, with consciousness of risk and hope of gain, on the outcome of a game. Gambling is completely legal in Las Nevadas, but subject to constantly changing regulations.

THE LV LEGAL SYSTEM ---------------------------- Las Nevadas and any disputes within the nation will be settled in the Las Nevadas court (TBA), with the presence of the conflicted parties, and the proper authorities.

FALURE TO RESPECT THE CONSTITUTION AND THE DUTIES WHICH ARE ASSIGNED TO THIS RESIDENCE WILL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE TERMINATION OF CITIZENSHIP,  AND, IF GUILTY OF A CRIME AGAINST THE NATION, YOU ARE SUBJECT TO

DEATH.

SIGNED .  .  .

QUACKITY

FOUNDER AND PRESIDENT OF LAS NEVADAS

---

- Fundy is nervous and hesitates

Quackity: “Fundy, I -- You’re like a brother to me. We’ve gone through so much. But I still have to protect my nation...surely you can understand that.”

Fundy: “No, I -- I can. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, um...it’s strong...You really believe in this nation, right? It’s like your child--”

Quackity: “Fundy...this is all I have left...if this nation dies, I die along with it.”

- Fundy signs the document with his full legal name:

Fun Jonatahan Micahel Vincent Georgina James Sus Dy

- He signs the book, gives it to Quackity and asks that if he ever reads it, to not call Fundy by his legal name

- Quackity welcomes Fundy to Las Nevadas as an official citizen!

- Charlie has control over the piece of slime inside Fundy. He tells Charlie not to do that

- Quackity asks Charlie if he has a name. They decide to call him “Meat” for now, but Charlie tells Quackity in “secret” (very loudly) that he isn’t actually meat...he is slime from the ground

- Quackity suggests they call him Slime From the Ground. He then says he is bones

- He leads the other two to the edge of Las Nevadas’ road and points out that they have a big issue: Tubbo’s outpost nearby. Quackity suspects that Tubbo may be planning some dangerous strategy against the country

- Quackity gives Slime some armor to put on

Slime: “Ready for war...don’t take my music discs!”

Fundy and Quackity: “Wh -- what did you just say?”

- Quackity has an informational video he can show Fundy later. They investigate the outpost. He reminds Fundy about the military protection portion of the document

- Quackity remembers the Butcher Army and asks how much experience Fundy has with the military. Fundy was part of every single one that’s existed

- Quackity suggests they build their own version of the outpost

- Slime starts breaking Tubbo’s windows. Quackity encourages it and tells Slime it’s called “griefing,” handing him dirt to spread around the place

- Quackity finds the two Totems of Undying they have at the outpost and asks if they should take them. He then says they should test them. He doesn’t know what they do

- Fundy isn’t sure they should, or what Tubbo’s intentions are. Quackity decides to leave them unless Tubbo retaliates for the griefing

- They notice the bridge and Quackity suggests a tollbooth

- Quackity explains the concept of taxes to Slime, who’s been watching Purpled recently. Purpled hasn’t done much, just farmed 

- They start building the tollbooth and Fundy brings up how medieval castles used to have boiling oil above the gates that they could use if there were people they didn’t like, and they could do something similar

- Slime starts throwing slime and Fundy can feel it (and it doesn’t feel good)

- Quackity asks for the bone he gave back, but Slime can’t tell the difference between all the bones

- Quackity remembers how when L’manburg exploded, Fundy and Niki came up to him and said it was a good day...what was that about?

Fundy: “The way I saw it was, during that time, everyone was trying to divide each other, right. Everyone was trying to divide each other...every one was either left or right and there was no in between. There was no...People always wanted to separate themselves and make war and destroy everything that was loved. When L’manburg was a thing, I cared about L’manburg, and then it got destroyed, right, and eventually, my hope at that moment was...that people just like, accepted that they shouldn’t--”

Quackity: “But you betrayed the nation...Fundy, the thing I’m getting at is, I don’t know your excuse or your thinking behind that...that will not happen again at this nation. No betrayals, no backstabbing. Not here. Understand?”

Slime: “What’s backstabbing?”

- Quackity and Fundy try to teach Slime how to backstab, then how to work the tollbooth against Tubbo

- Slime starts putting buttons on the walls. Quackity tells him not to, as it gives him bad memories

- Slime asks Fundy again what it’s like to dream. Fundy doesn’t want to talk about it, but Quackity notes that he’s been vague about it

- Fundy explains that every time something big happens in this place, he has dreams where he can sort of see what happens before it does. It’s like gazing into the future, except he loses details before it happens

- Quackity presses him on it. Let’s say they have a big war coming up, he takes Tubbo’s totems and Fundy sleeps and tells him what happens next so that they can prepare?

- Fundy doesn’t think that’s a good idea. Quackity doesn’t understand how real these things are

- What if they build an entire building for Fundy so that he can have these dreams comfortably? It’s just a possibility...

- Slime’s gloop-morphosis isn’t “complete” yet

- Quackity asks if Fundy knows Foolish. Fundy remembers one time he blew up a little bit of Foolish’s house and he finds out Foolish lives in Las Nevadas

- Quackity asks how long ago this was. Fundy says it happened a long time ago, but Slime corrects him

Quackity: “Just know, Fundy...he doesn’t know how to lie.”

- Quackity leaves to get diamonds and Fundy confronts Slime alone, asking him how he knows things. He tells Slime that in certain situations, it’s helpful to keep quiet on certain things for the benefit of other people

- They move on and Fundy teaches Slime a bit about fun and hobbies

- Quackity returns and they notice many squid in the nearby river. Quackity goes down and starts killing “cod” (salmon). Fundy corrects him that they aren’t cod, but to Quackity fish is fish. Fundy looks away while Quackity kills them

- They suggest Fundy be the food-gatherer. Fundy suggests a diet of fruit and plants

Slime: “What’s wrong with salmon? Your father loved them!”

- Quackity asks Fundy to elaborate on his father, if he came from a fishing family. Fundy asks Slime again about how he knows. Slime continually refers back to people “turning to dust.” 

- They ask about what Slime knows about them, then about Slime’s favorite memory. He digs a whole in the ground and waits for a bit

- They teach Slime about humor

Slime: “Two people walk into a bar. One is green, one is red. The green one is shaped -- is a bigger guy, and the red one is a smaller guy. To get to the bar, both got off a train. The train the red guy was on was going west at 40 miles an hour for 60 miles. The train the other guy was on did not serve lunch. They both walked into a bar, and 500 years later they were still just dust in the ground. At the end of it all, they were just still dust, and none of it mattered.”

- Slime tells another joke about a chicken turning into dust.

Quackity: “How long do you think it’ll take for me to turn to dust?

Slime: “I...I’ll make sure you never turn to dust, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”

- Quackity asks about Fundy’s father

Slime: “The sooty guy?”

- Quackity and Slime ask Fundy -- shouldn’t he know? Slime says Fundy can ask Wilbur about his history himself

Quackity: “Your dad’s alive, Fundy?”

- Fundy tells Quackity about how Phil came to him with some interesting news, that Wilbur is actually alive. Quackity ask when was the last time Fundy’s seen Wilbur. Fundy hasn’t seen him alive again yet

Quackity: “What’s your relationship with Wilbur?”

Fundy: “It’s...it’s complicated, man. It’s very complicated.”

Quackity: “Because...there’s an issue.”

- Fundy wants to talk to Wilbur about a lot of things. Quackity brings Fundy over to the headquarters and breaks the news that Wilbur came to see Quackity

Fundy: “...He saw you? He went on his way to see you, and -- and he’s not shown up to me to, you know -- why, why?”

- Quackity shows Fundy the “mark” Wilbur made. Wilbur asked to join Las Nevadas, and Quackity said no. He shows Fundy the name: Fort Big. Tommy and Wilbur are working together

- Quackity is just warning Fundy. He hopes this won’t get in the way of Fundy supporting the nation. Fundy just doesn’t know why Wilbur didn’t come to him, but he went to Quackity. 

Fundy: “Did he talk about me?”

- Quackity thinks he did, but he doesn’t remember what

- Fundy says goodbye to Slime and Quackity, heading off to settle down on his own. He stands at his plot of land, wondering if he’ll have to fight Wilbur

- Purpled is at his old base by the ruins of L’manburg. Life is good. He has DogChamp, he’s been fishing, no human contact

- He has something to attend to and goes to the cliffside nearby, finding Slime. He asks why Slime’s been watching him, who told Slime to spy. Slime avoids answering

- Purpled figures it’s Quackity and asks Slime more about how long he’s been above the ground, what he knows. Slime refers to him as “Purpled From a UFO” and Purpled shows Slime that his UFO has been destroyed by Quackity

- Purpled leaves Slime and visits the ruins. He notices Slime following him and tells him to leave again

- Slime traps himself in Dream’s honeymoon suite and Purpled continues down the path, looking at all the builds. He visits the Socializing Club and checks beneath the floor -- the trap he made all those months ago is still there. He wonders if anyone remembers these things

- Slime slimes his way out of the trap and Purpled visits L’manburg. He was just a pawn, there was no “Purpled in L’manburg” or “Purpled in Pogtopia” or “Purpled on Dream SMP’s side.” There was just no Purpled

- He returns to his house, gets DogChamp, puts him into a hidden chamber elsewhere. He stores his valuables...and rigs the entire place with TNT

He sets it off and it goes

- Slime talks to Purpled again. Purpled asks if Quackity is still interested in a new resident

- Purpled asks Slime to trust him as he retrieves DogChamp, and he gets Slime to lead him to Las Nevadas

- He makes it there and goes into the casino. Quackity doesn’t know what he has planned. He comes out to find Quackity there. Quackity takes him up to the top of the Needle

- Purpled makes it clear he only cares about the opportunity for himself, not for Quackity. He doesn’t stand for what Quackity does, doesn’t think there will ever be a time that he’ll respect Quackity as a person

- Quackity tells him they all change in some way or another. When he first became Vice President, he saw the best in everyone

Quackity: “I don’t really see the good in people anymore...but I do see opportunity.”

- Quackity tells Purpled that if they succeed with the nation, the two of them will be going down in history. Purpled starts to come around to thinking that maybe they are on the same page 

- Quackity had a citizenship document he meant for Purpled to sign, but he’s willing to gamble on it without

Quackity: “Welcome to Las Nevadas, Purpled.”

- He gives Purpled the document either way and tells him he has a right to a plot of land. Quackity will have a business meeting with all the residents soon

- Purpled asks for land behind the casino. He has an idea for something. Quackity agrees to give it to him

- Purpled leaves and speaks to himself with DogChamp at the stage. Things will be looking different around here real soon

- Ranboo goes to the mailbox he set up with the Council and checks it, finding a new update in the book along with a Netherite Axe labelled “axe of the end” in Enderman.

The update reads:

---

Hello. We have been observing the happenings around the server and we come bearing not news but rather a warning for you. We know that you like to stand idle and not engage in any kind of acts of violence and we respect you for that.

However, we also know that there are people that you care about and you need to understand that in order to take care of those people you are no longer able to just stand idle. You need to take a more active role again. We have given you something that can help with that. Use it carefully.

We respect your wishes. - The Council

---

- Ranboo takes the axe. He planned to work on Tubbo’s outpost, make it seem like more of a shop than an outpost

- He goes to the outpost and finds the griefing, cleaning it up

- As some protective measures, he leaves signs:

---

Hello! Whoever put a bunch of dirt everywhere, Dont!

This is going to be a new cookie shop! We dont have cookies yet

Please leave it alone! Or violence will be used.

---

- He continues working on the outpost and Techno logs on. Ranboo goes over to the new tollbooth and pays the toll of one bone

Techno: ranboo have you unlocked teleportation yet

Ranboo: not yet i dont think

Ranboo: let me try

Ranboo: yeah no

Techno: can you hurry up

Techno: asking for a friend

- Ranboo explores around Las Nevadas and makes a to-do list

- He makes a hidey hole in the strip club and strips some logs. He gets tempted to steal a Netherite block

His to-do list reads:

---

TO DO LIST FOR LAS NEVADAS: 1. Figure out what to get inside of. 2. Figure out what the hollow buildings are 3. Figure out why there are so many horses 4. Figure out who runs this place 5. Figure out what the black pillars are for

---

- He returns home and speaks with Tubbo in VC

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[thismaydestroyme]

Little Did I Know

Summary: In this short story Harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. I’m not sure if I’ll include some song lyrics, but if I do, I will take a piece of a lyric from a different song and pretend it’s his. 

Word Count: 2,272

“Sweetie, can you walk Cosmo?” Y/N hears her mom shouting from downstairs. 

“Yes, mom!” She says.  

Y/N is on her bed with her headphones on due to having a neighbor who’s living across her street who just moved in. For the past weeks there’s been a lot of moving trunks and ruckus because there’s a musician living among them. 

Y/N is a 21 year old girl who wants to be part of the music industry, but she doesn’t know shit. All she knows is that she loves music, and music is part of her. It was her dad that introduced her to music, like music that was before her time. Like Billie Holiday, Frank Sintra, The Rolling Stone, Queen, Otis Redding, Nirvana, The Knack, Elton John, The Doors, The Clash and so many more. That’s all she knew and all she wanted was to find a way to have that without having to know how to play the instruments, knowing how to sing. She simply just wants to go wherever the music takes her. 

She finally drags herself out of bed and starts putting on her sneaker and throwing on an oversized hoodie. She swaps her earbuds to her airpods and off to walk her dog. 

She walks down the stairs heavily which alerts her mother, and before she gets to the last step her mother hands her Cosmo’s leash. 

“Ugh. Couldn't you do - sorry mom.” She reaches for the leash that’s in her mom’s hand. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, darling.” She says giving her daughter a peck on her left cheek. 

Y/N bends over to put the leash on Cosmo’s neck, which Cosmo gives her a lick on her face. Y/N loves this dog of hers. He provides her safety and security, which she needs because let’s just say she has a breakdown every couple of days. 

Y/N stands back up and gives Cosmo a nice tug so he knows he’s ready for his next adventure. By adventure it means walking around the block she’s been doing for the past three years since Y/N got him. 

It’s around 3 o’clock which means the summer heat is hitting hard right about now. But it’s too hot to harm Cosmo in any way. Cosmo is the love of Y/N life. 

Cosmo and Y/N went on their typical route which they go past their new neighbor's house. Y/N realizes the new neighbor door is a jar, and she can smell bacon, which isn’t good for Cosmo because he’ll tend to escape and run towards the delicious smell he knows so much about. To Y/N not so surprise Cosmo started tugging on his leash that has Y/N being yanked and pulled. 

“Cosmo. Stop it right now!” Y/N shouts to Cosmo which she knows that wouldn’t help a damn thing. When he has something in mind there’s no stopping him. Cosmo has to be on something because it’s like he’s on some x game mode. Y/N starts tripping on her own feet and losing her own balance. 

They were running in the middle of streets when they received some honks and screams at fellow drivers on the road. Which Y/N give them a nice finger and simple “fuck off.” Y/N let’s go Cosmo leash because she isn’t in the mood to eat shit, so when she felt safe nothing could happen to Cosmo she let him go.

Cosmo went straight towards the slight jar front door, which I had to pick up my steps. Before Y/N could even be on the same street as the house, the new neighbor came out his house, holding Cosmo’s leash quite aggressively which had Y/N switch her mode to attack mode. 

“Hey, what the fuck? you didn’t have to pull him like that?” Y/N says aggressively while walking towards the house, when she gets in a hand reach, she pulls the leash so the neighbor doesn’t have his grubby hand on the leash. 

Oh you want to know Y/N neighbor? It happily to be Harry Styles. Forgot to include that in, sorry. 

“Are you getting mad at me? your dog happened to be in my house without any guardian. Your dog jumped on my couch, which I’m not too fond of. So anyone here who should be a little bit bitchy, it should be me.” Harry says hostile. He’s wearing a wife beater shirt that has his arms tattoos on display. For his lower part he’s wearing a nice black booty short which shows off that magnificent tiger tattoo. “Are you just going to stand there?” He snaps back. 

Y/N brought her eyes back to him which Y/N doesn’t approve of his tone. Y/N scuffs and rolls her eyes to the back of her head. “Sorry for your inconvenience. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Y/N plants a fake smile on her face. “C’mon Cosmo, let’s go, but this time I'm walking you.“ Y/N whispers to Cosmo while turning around to continue their walk with a small intermission they encountered. After a couple of steps Y/N turned her head around and when she did Harry was still standing there with annoyance on his face, which Y/N turned her head back around. 

“He’s going to be fun.” 

***

It took Y/N twenty minutes to walk her dog today. She wanted Cosmo to enjoy himself which he did because he saw a lot of squirrels today, and on top of that she didn’t want to ‘run’ into Harry again. Y/N should be excited to have a big celebrity living among them, and hopefully she could get reinspired about her future, but unfortunately that isn’t the case. Probably Harry is just having a bad day, and last year and the beginning of this year he had a lot of things going on. He’s officially a grammy winner, he filmed two movies, his latest album Fine Line has been doing phenomenally well, he was the first male to have appeared solo on Vogue magazine,  he was announced Hitmaker of the year, and so many more. So maybe he just needed to get his energy back, which Y/N understood. But man, it really had to be their first impression. 

When Y/N and Cosmo took a turn to walk to their front door, Y/N couldn’t help but to look across the street to see if Harry was there or not. Surprisingly he was, and he’s looking right at her. Y/N looked at his lips while he blew out a smoke. Fuck, he smokes?! 

Y/N doesn’t understand why he’s looking at her, but she doesn’t give a shit because the way he’s looking at her was his way of trying to figure her out. Whatever that fucking means. 

She broke eye contact and flipped her head around to her front door. She starts digging her hand in her pocket to fetch her keys out. Cosmo starts barking because the keys jiggles so he thought it was a new toy. “Oh you hash it.” She got the keys and shove it in the lock. Thank god, her mother didn’t lock the top of the door. 

The door finally releases and Cosmo immediately runs through, probably heading to his water bowl. “Thanks sweetie for walking Cosmo for me.” Y/N hears her mom in the kitchen probably smothering Cosmo. “Yep. I would say anytime, but I would be lying.” She says while walking up the stairs to head to her room. “Fuck off.” Her mother giggles. “I love you too.” That was the last thing Y/N said before she shut her door.

Y/N takes off her beat up vans and soon after plops on her unmade bed. Y/N stared at the few holes on the ceiling due to having a young Leonardo DiCaprio poster on her ceiling when she was younger. Young Leo hits different. 

Y/N couldn’t help it, but her brain went back to her small and rough interaction with Harry. She wished she met him on a  better note, but fuck it. But how could she move on from him? She’s a fan of his music and his viewpoint on the world. He’s a man of few word, but when he does talk, it’s fucking loud and impactful. He’s the main reason she took a few steps back off of social media. She’s barely on it, but when she does go on it, she isn’t on there for long like she used to. 

An hour went by and her mother started knocking on her door and then she came in. “You know mother, the purpose of knocking is to see if you're welcome to enter the space.” Y/N says nonchalantly sitting up to see her mother, but at the same time trying to hold in her laugh. 

“Well, if you want to contribute to paying the bills, I’ll happily reconsider waiting to be called on.” Her mother threw back. “Nope. You’re good.” Y/N says shaking her head. 

“Mmmmhh. Well, I’m going to hang out with the girls from work. Do you want me to make you something before I go?” That’s one thing Y/N loves about her mother, she is so selfless and she always makes sure I’m good before she wants to do something for herself. 

“I’m good. Enjoy your night.” Y/N gave her mom a smile to know she’ll be alright. “If you’re sure, then I’m off,” Her mom says all happily. “If you need anything just text me. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Y/N got up to give her mom a nice, strong hug. “love you.” Y/N whispers. “Love you more beautiful.” We pull back and she’s off to the race. 

Y/N walks to her window to pull the blind. She sometimes likes looking out her window and just stares off into space. Something about watching people live their life comforts her. She loves people watching. 

Y/N found herself mumbling some words, while people watching, but she couldn’t help but stop her little rampage. Y/N feels heavy and she’s unable to even grasp the concept, so when she starts feeling that way she tends to start saying random things. It could be something she could use in the future. To make sure she doesn’t forget she whip out her phone to go to the notes app where she has a folder filled with random words and sentences. There are things in there that could potentially be useful like, “More or less a painful experience. Only ever real if you're delirious. the summer before you,” “I think you're gonna be my biggest fan.” So on and so forth. That’s what the folder is filled with fragments and potentially some song lyrics. 

Y/N tossed her phone to her bed, and left her phone to bother Cosmo downstairs. Y/N loves that sucker. Before Y/N could even smother him with love, he’s currently sleeping on his bed in the corner of the living room. 

Fucking great. 

Y/N just wanted something to do, and her damn dog couldn’t give her that. She looks at the clock on the wall in the living room and it’s currently 6 almost to be seven. Y/N could go upstairs and ask one of her friends to hangout, but she doesn’t want that. The best alternative could be taking a walk and seeing where her feet take her. She likes that option better, so she quietly went upstairs so she doesn’t wake up Cosmo.

Y/N changes her attire to ripped oversized mom jeans, an oversized graphic tee she bought on Depop and once again her infamous black and white vans. She grabs her airpods, and her keys. She’s finally ready for the evening. 

Y/N went back downstairs to check on Cosmo and make sure he has food and water ready for him just in case he wakes up while she’s still gone. When she felt everything was in order she ended straight to the door. 

The weather feels astronomically better than before which had Y/N feel much better with her decision. Y/N isn’t sure if she should take the right or left. If she decides on taking a right she’ll pass Harry’s house, but if she does decide to take a left she wouldn’t. Y/N starts going back and forth, but she decides on going left. 

There was a nice breeze in the summer air, and she’s listening to “I’m a Slave 4 U” by the one and only Britney fucking Spears. “What's practical is logical. What the hell who cares. All I know is I'm so happy. When you're dancing there. I'm a slave 4 U.” Y/N finds herself singing to herself. She’s been walking around aimlessly and rocking out to her songs for about thirty minutes. She’s aware she’s probably creating attention to herself, but she couldn’t find herself to care. Y/N is enjoying herself. 

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out with her eyes pinch shut, when she finally opens them she finds herself in front of Harry’s house. The worst part wasn't that she was walking in a circle. It wasn’t that she belted out to her songs. It wasn’t she was flinging her body around like she was the balloon thingy at the cars dealership shop. Nope. None of those. 

The worst fucking part is, Harry Fucking Styles is currently outside watching her. Fucking watching her. Once again fucking smoking. Again.

[impulsivefanwriter]

A Tiny Spark Leads to a Roaring Flame (But Flames Can Always be Doused by Water)

Heeyyyyy so y’all know the Reverse Thanos Snap AU for SPBNR? Basically everyone but Smith/S!Kai gets sent to the M!verse. Everyone. The entire population of S!verse Ninjago City & a few surrounding areas. Except poor Smith. Essentially it happens because S!Garmadon tries to send Smith to a place where he can't mess with his plans, and ends up sending everyone away from Smith to take him out of the equation. 

The second part to this AU is that the S!Ninja end up searching for Kai in the chaos and grab the Red Ninja before jetting out of there with the Bounty. Except... they didn’t grab Smith (who’s still home), but rather Red (M!Kai).

Red thinks the S!Ninja are babysitter clones created by Garmadon after he somehow turned Lloyd younger without his memories & is trying to raise him to be his new General #1. With this in mind, he pretends to be S!Kai, and waits for the moment he can rescue Lloyd.

What would happen in the S!Ninja discovered his deception/their mistake of grabbing a wrong Kai and mistake Red for a recreated Aki (aka Bizarro Evil Clone Kai) before he could enact his plan?

Well, this is that idea. (Title inspired by how a crack AU spiralled into a beautiful angst-fest)

Enjoy. :3

-----*-----

Red was going to get Lloyd out of here tonight. 

Away from these Not-Friends made by Garmadon to emulate the Ninjaforce. Away from this flying ship built to emulate Master Wu's ship, so familiar and yet so off. Away from this false reality and back to the real everything where they could hopefully get his memories back and his age back and everything back to the way it was before the city descended into chaos.

He just had to... bide his time. Be patient. 

FSM, he was bad at being patient. 

His hands itched to grab Lloyd and run now, but he was horribly outnumbered and without his mech. No matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn't rush this. If he did, he would make everything worse. Like he always did.

But fate- or rather, Lloyd- had other plans.

The little version of his younger brother- yes, they were roughly the same age normally, shut up, Lloyd was still his younger brother- had been... eying him weird all morning. Not like Not-Jay and Not-Cole and Not-Zane, but like Not-Nya. Like he actually knew instead of suspected. These babysitter clones seemed to think he was the Not-Kai, and if that was the opportunity the universe was going to give him, then by the flames of the departed world was he going to skip this chance to save Lloyd.

Currently he stood on the deck of the ship as they parked in the sky a few meters above the docks on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't the docks with the Bounty warehouse, curse his luck, but it wasn't the endless sky or the empty ocean (though it was still too close to that murky, haunting water for his liking. Water was his sister's domain for a reason). At least he could sneak Lloyd off in the cover of night, maybe find someone in the city who wouldn't recognize the Son of Garmadon this way and would be willing to help them hide until they could make it back to the real ninja.

"Kai," Not-Zane spoke suddenly next to him. 

Red would never get used to the way his voice... lacked the same effect the real Zane's had. The effect that Kai and the rest of his team had assured their friend over and over was unique, special, but in a good way. To embrace it. That it wasn't noticeable, but when it was, that it was so Zane that his friends didn't care that it was different. 

This 'Zane' sounded much too different than his own. He hadn't recognized Kai's tested line of 'road work ahead' when they passed one of the many construction signs littering the city (even more so since the chaos happened a week ago), and instead had responded with 'a great deal of work to fix in the city'. 

Seriously, Garmadon, do better research on your clones.

Not-Zane was also much too... calm. Too 'wise' compared to the wild teen that was Zane. And he walked without heelies or whatever Zane used to slide around like a boss, though he was still silent. And that meant, like now, he snuck up on Red fairly often- and Red was training to be a Ninja, so that took serious talent. 

"Kai," Not-Zane said again, and Red finally broke his gaze from where he'd been staring over the railing, planning tonight's escape route. "Lunch has been made for over an hour. Are you alright?"

Red forced his brightest smile. "Course I'm alright! Just trying to figure out what happened, as usual."

Why Lloyd was suddenly like, 8, and without his memories. Why the Not-Friends were on this Not-Ship and had mistaken him for Not-Kai. Why the city was in a state of disarray and chaos. 

Not-Zane studied him, then turned to give the city a sad look. "I'm not sure myself. My scanners can't seem to figure out what is happening. It is as if... blocked by some force."

Red winced, then expertly disguised the move by leaning against the rail. Zane never would use 'my scanners', despite how often Red and the others assured him it was okay. Yet another reason why this wasn't his friend.

"You know Ninjago City," Red said with a weak laugh. "Always one crisis or another. Always those annoying Garmadon Attacks"

This seemed to satisfy Not-Zane, who nodded thoughtfully. "This event definitely seems to have Garmadon's hand in the mess."

He patted Red on the back. "Well, don't worry yourself ragged, Kai. Come in for lunch soon, alright? We have training for Lloyd later."

Ah, right. Training. AKA what Red assumed was how Garmadon was planning to shape this impressionable version of his friend into his new General #1.  

"I'm ready for training now, Zane!"

Speaking of Lloyd- 

The little gremlin came up from the hull with the rest of the Not-Ninja. Red hated when the entire group was together; it was way more difficult to act as Not-Kai around them, especially around Not-Nya. 

For starters, Not-Jay had a notch in his eyebrow that the real Jay never had. He was missing the iconic freckles, and the scarf, and the fluffy hair, though you could always say it was just a wardrobe change. What you couldn't change was the personality differences. This couldn’t be Jay. Jay was anxious and quiet, his jokes (while plentiful) said more timidly and his newest ideas shared with hesitance that only shrank after years of encouragement. He would never be this loud, ever. 

Not-Cole was the leader, probably because Lloyd was so young. But even then, in Red's team, Nya would probably take second-command. Cole was their sturdy support, yes, but he was chill, laid-back. Ready to follow and support his friends to the ends of the earth with his tunes and occasional sarcastic wit, but not lead. Not like Not-Cole, who was more serious and commanding and didn't. listen. to. music. Red hadn't spotted a single record or boombox in the room in the hull. That was a tragic oversight on Garmadon's part. The members of his research team should be Fired.

And then there was Not-Nya. Who wore a dress with confidence that his sister would love but never publicly wear. Who had short hair- Nya had tried that style once, and decided it itched around her neck too much- and jewelry, and a giant flying Samurai mech suit. His sister had the Water Strider Mech, and Not-Nya had a flying combat suit. Sure. Close enough. Personality-wise they were similar. 

Similar at first glance. Nya was fluid and adaptable to whatever role she needed filling. She was spunky, and as fiery as him when it came to tempers, though she knew how to keep hers in check (she had to, right? No one called her hot-headed and impulsive and reckless and blamed her temper for mistakes or damage or whatever the news comments liked to say about the Fire Mech). Not-Nya was also adaptable and independent-minded, but she seemed more rigid. More doing her own thing. 

Point was, everyone wasn't actually his friends, despite how much they tried to prove they were. And they kept acting like he was this Not-Kai, who was just as hot-headed but apparently more mature and training-oriented and basically the better, cooler (or hotter, perhaps, for the fire theme of the red ninja) him, since his acting never seemed to fully convince them. Trying to impersonate a standard he couldn't seem to reach, some legendary hero he wasn't- er, wasn't yet! Yeah! He just needed to prove himself, be better, and he'd be fine. Just... fine. Yeah.

Mini-Lloyd (Red was tempted to call him L'ilyod in his head, but that felt wrong somehow, like he was infringing on some kind of copyright law) stared at him like a goddamn falcon, and he wasn't talking about the bird that circled the ship. He had this bowl-cut Red would tease him about endlessly after all this was over- seriously, how had Mr. Fabulous Hair started with this mess? Garmadon probably didn't even have hair, so there was no way the guy knew how to style it, and it was very evident based on Mini-Lloyd's hairdo. 

Red noticed that all of them were staring, actually. Despite his relaxed rest against the rails, his fingers behind his back clutched the cool bar with a dull shake. He didn't notice how the metal seemed to glow red under his touch. 

"Training, right, we should get onto that," Red tried. "What do you want to start with, Lloyd?" 

"How about a little game?" Lloyd asked with complete innocence. "What we were playing last week before we got interrupted."

Oh sh!t. 

"I-I don't know, shouldn't we start with stretches? Or how about some sparring, that's always more fun than a game!"

"But I wanted to continue our game..." Mini Lloyd said, and FSM's sake, he couldn't deal with that pouting look.

Okay. Okay, don't panic. Think logically. What kind of game would an 8-year-old Lloyd like to play with him? Something physical, so no board games- he liked to test his mettle against Zane on those, and sometimes he would almost not-lose. Logic puzzles also fell more on Jay's area. Trivia, especially music trivia, was a bubble between the anxious motormouth and Cole. Video games fell on team building, and wouldn't classify as a training warmup.

"Well," Red said, taking a hopeful stab in the dark. "There's not too much space on the deck for... tag..."

Lloyd nodded, looking satisfied. The Not-Ninja looked- well, their expressions were hard to read because of how different it was compared to his friends. But Red was a master of deception (well, fire, but eh, technicalities), and he had them fooled, and he just had to keep it up until nightfall so he could rescue Lloyd and explain in a safe location-

"HE'S NOT KAI!"

Orrrrr improvise. Okay, yep, he could improvise. 

Red lunged forward and grabbed Mini Lloyd's wrist from where he had his hand extended in an accusatory point. He ducked under Not-Jay's attempts to grab him- fast, but not as fast as his Jay, his Jay who could disappear from an awkward social interaction in the span of a flickering lightbulb- and dragged his younger brother with him as he vaulted over the railing. Not-Zane almost managed to yank him back onto the Not-ship, but his icy grip caught only empty air as Red pulled Lloyd into a tight hold and ducked.

He hit the dock below with a stumble, rolling back onto his feet and taking off with a very stubborn green ninja in tow. It took all his strength to drag Lloyd (kicking and screaming like he was being kidnapped or something when Red was just trying to rescue him, for FSM's sake. Lloyd didn't know that, but he could still try to be at least a little more considerate.)

The wooden docks creaked and shuddered underfoot and Red grimaced; whoever rebuilt them after the latest Garmadon attack had shredded them like newspaper clearly hadn't wasted any unnecessary change. It certainly didn't help that Lloyd packed quite the punch for someone so small. Red definitely would come out of this with bruised shins and arms from where Mini Lloyd tried to push him away, but it would be worth it to keep his teammate, his younger brother, safe.

Then green filled his vision and broke his hold on Lloyd's wrist, sending him skidding across the dock planks as he was sent flying. When he finally rolled to a stop, neck and shoulder stinging from where the blast had caught him (no burns, just jitters like he'd been shocked), he had to take a few seconds to re-orient himself. Did the Not-Ship have cannons or something? What hit him from behind, so close it could have hit Lloyd?

Lloyd. Was Lloyd okay?

Red pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the bleeding scrapes on his hands and legs from where he'd gotten banged up by the splintered docks. His gaze, sharp and frantic, searched for signs of green. The warning of more blasts, the flash of the fabric of a gi, anything.

He spotted his brother in the arms of Not-Cole. No, no, no-

And suddenly Not-Nya was there, given a boost by Not-Jay. Her grip was as if she were wearing the robotic mech suit, harsh and powerful and near in-human. She threw Red back to the dock floor as her face twisted with the fury of a storming ocean. A resounding crack rang out over the harbour.

Red couldn't tell if it came from the planks under him or his own shoulder.

She pinned him to the wood, barking accusations and threats in his face faster than Not-Jay could talk. Red blinked through a haze of pain, trying to focus on her face and words. She was missing the beauty mark on her face, he noticed. Yet another tell she wasn't his sister.

"-scar on the wrong side-" And it was hard to hear again over the ringing in his ears. He tried to throw her off, get back to Lloyd, anything, but he was-

Useless. 

Her hands suddenly got in his face, slamming his left cheek to the wood. She was close- close to his face, close to his eye, close to his scar- pushing and prying as she tried to do something. Red picked up in his struggling, his attempts to free himself turning to desperate shoves and wild clawing like a trapped animal. He wouldn't let this creation of Garmadon's finish the job that teen had started all those years ago. 

"Or better yet, he needs to shut his damn mouth."

The flash of a knife. His vision half-blurry. Blood- so much blood- and a lasting scar.

"-contacts-" "-red-" "-struggling-" "-we know what he- it- is already-" "-not the real Kai-" "-wish-" "-Garmadon-"

He had to get away. Get Lloyd away from them now.

In one surge of strength- and yep, his shoulder definitely wasn't okay after that move, as if he'd ripped it not just from its socket but from its very attachment to his body- he knocked Not-Nya aside. If he could’ve seen through the red haze, he might have noticed red embers dancing around his fingertips as his desperation and fear tapped into something deep in his soul.

He tried to shoot to his feet, tried to run for Lloyd (held so tight in Not-Cole's grip, surely they were hurting him, he couldn't let that happen-). He roared, "LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!", but before he could take another step through Not-Jay and Not-Zane in his path, the docks gave one last ominous shudder  before deciding it had finally had enough.

The planks crumbled underfoot like charred firewood in a crackling campfire, and Red was sent tumbling into the frigid ocean water below.

[hoebii]

Fairy Good 2.0

Pairing : Fairy! OT7 x Reader  Genre : Fluff, Fairy!Au Rating : G Warnings : None that I can think of Wc : 2.5k A/N : Thank you @sugasbabiie​ so so so much for being my beta! She made this mess into something comprehensible lol, she’s the mvp for this. We don’t speak about the little plot-hole with the maknaes, okay? okay. As usual, hope you guys like this, feedback is always appreciated~ This is for the ‘Tiny Tan’ monthly theme from @thebtswritersclub​

You woke up to something, or someone, incessantly poking your cheek. Not wanting to leave dreamland just yet, you swatted at whatever was attacking your face when you heard a tiny yelp. 

Your eyes snapped open at the sound; even through the drowsiness, your mind remembered the seven tiny fairies you lived with. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jin assures you as your eyes settle on his tiny body slowly standing up straight on the bed. 

Rubbing your eye sleepily, you couldn’t help but blush when you heard Taehyung cooing at you from somewhere in the room, muttering something about looking like a baby. 

How ironic, you thought, to be called a baby by a literal baby.

Yawning, you bring your attention back to the eldest fairy. “What’s up, Jin? You know not to wake me up on a weekend unless something’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong!” The tiny fairy exclaimed, distress clear in his voice as he looked up at you. 

Gently picking him up so he was standing on your palm, you asked, “What’s wrong, bub?”

“Namjoon is missing!”

Your eyes widen, now wide awake, “What do you mean Namjoon is missing?”

Jin sighed in worry, flopping down on your palm, his wings fluttering sadly as he looked like a kicked puppy. “He wasn’t there when I woke up, and when I looked for him throughout the apartment, he was nowhere to be found.”

“That’s… concerning,” you mumbled, letting him hop off your palm before moving to stand up from your bed, patting Taehyung gently when he came flying to you. 

“Morning,” he greeted you, placing a kiss on your cheek before flashing you his boxy smile. Taking a seat on your shoulder, he snuggled against your neck happily. 

You gave him a small smile, too worried about the missing leader of the little fairy group to be fully relaxed. Walking into the kitchen, you were faced with five tiny worried faces. You tried to keep a neutral expression as you approached the counter where they all sat, helping Taehyung get down there with the others as Jin flew by you to land too. 

“Y/N! Namjoon hyung is nowhere to be found!” Jungkook exclaimed, doe eyes brimming with tears as his lips trembled. 

“Baby, please don’t cry,” you cooed, patting his head gently to try to calm him, “he couldn’t have gone far; we’ll find him!”

“Are you sure?” he asked, sniffling as he moved closer to you, enjoying the little pats you were bestowing him with. 

“Yes, baby. We’ll find him for sure,” you reassured. 

Your attention was stolen when you felt someone tug at your t-shirt, moving to see Yoongi and Hoseok standing by you. 

“Can we talk to you for a second?” Yoongi asked, “Alone?”

Knowing it had to be something serious, you nodded, leaving the younglings in the kitchen to follow the older ones into the living room. 

“What did you need?” You asked as you took a seat on the couch, eyes darting from Jin to Yoongi to Hoseok. 

“We think Namjoon left the apartment,” Hoseok whispered, not wanting the younger ones to be able to hear - all four of you knew that they were most likely hiding by the corner to eavesdrop -.

“What?!” you exclaimed before clearing your throat at their panicked faces. Lowering your voice, you whispered, “What do you mean he left the apartment?”

“We noticed that the window was open while looking for him, so there’s a chance that he left through that,” Yoongi explained, voice still low. 

You mentally cursed yourself; why did you never close that damn window? That was the same window the fairies entered your life through last year, and now you feared that your carelessness might end up with you losing one of them the same way. 

As if being able to hear your thoughts, Jin stepped closer to you, giving you a smile as he said, “It’s not your fault, Y/N. Namjoon is old enough to be responsible for his own actions.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, heart still heavy with guilt. “But…”

“No buts!” Hoseok ordered, only to be interrupted by none other than the maknaes flying over to you. 

“Unless we’re talking about butts!” Taehyung announced, giggling at the word ‘butt’ alongside the other maknaes.

You couldn’t keep the chuckle that escaped you at the childishness of the fairies.

Jin shook his head, trying to keep a stern facade, “Didn’t I teach you little ones not to eavesdrop?”

“But-”

“No,” he cut the maknae off.

You sighed, taking pity on the sad fairies, and picked them up. Maintaining eye contact, you asked, “You know that listening to others’ conversation is wrong, right?”

When they gave a small nod, looking like kicked puppies, you placed soft kisses on their heads before letting them down as you turned to face Jin. “There, they know what they did was wrong; let’s all calm down, alright?”

“You baby them too much, Y/N-ie,” Jin said, still not looking pleased about the situation. 

You narrowed your eyes at his words playfully as you leaned closer, “If I don’t baby the babies, then who will?” 

You booped his nose, smiling at the way he huffed, “come on, Jin. Don’t be mad now; I’ll buy you some strawberries the next time we go grocery shopping!”

“Oh! Oh! Can we grab some mint choco then too? Namjoon-hyung hates that flavour; it’s so fun to annoy him,” Jungkook giggled, though his giggles soon died down, the cheerful mood vanished as soon as it came. 

Silence fell over the apartment; everyone worried about the missing fairy. 

Clapping his hand, Hoseok brought the attention to him, “Let’s not get sad already! For all we know, he’s still asleep somewhere- maybe waking up in the middle of the night and falling asleep somewhere else.”

Yoongi, Jin, and you shared a look, knowing that Hoseok was only saying that to comfort the maknaes. 

“Exactly! Hobi is absolutely correct,” you chimed in when the younger ones didn’t look fully convinced.

Yoongi gave you a grateful nod as Hoseok smiled at you, making you smile back. Jin cleared his throat, “Hoseok, why don’t you stay with the kids while the three of us go out to look for Namjoon?”

“Outside? Joon-hyung went outside?” Jimin asked, his eyes wide in shock and fear. They barely ever went out without you after they started living with you, too many people trying to capture them.

Jin sputtered, panicking at the slip up which made the others start panicking too. Thinking quickly, you gently lifted the teary eyed maknaes, cooing softly as you pat their heads. 

“No, no, no, hey don’t cry! Joon didn’t go out alone,” you soothed, “Jin meant Yoongi and him would come with me to look for clothes for Joon! You know how much he complained about his jacket getting destroyed.”

“Y-yeah!” Jin chimed in, stuttering slightly.

Taehyung gave you a skeptical look, not buying your excuse but still nodded slowly, “If you say so, Y/N-ie.”

“Uh-huh! Now run along with Hobi, have fun,” you urged them, making the three of them fly away to the little ‘play space’ - which was basically a decent-sized dollhouse - with Hoseok following them. 

Yoongi scoffed, giving you a flat look, “really? That’s what you could come up with?”

“Well, I didn’t see you coming up with something better,” you bit back, scrunching your nose in displeasure.

“...Whatever.”

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

You briskly walked down the busy street, Jin and Yoongi safely residing in your bag so they could remain safely hidden from the public. The three of you have looked for Namjoon in every nook and cranny on your block but to no success in finding the fairy. 

“Where could he have gone?” You murmured, brows furrowing as you scanned the place yet again - making sure you didn’t miss anything - before moving on. 

Tired of walking, you decided to sit down on a fairly deserted bench, opening your bag a bit more so Jin and Yoongi could pop out. 

“No luck here,” Jin said, rubbing his chin as he tried thinking about where else to look. 

The three of you sat there silently, trying to decide where to go next, when suddenly Yoongi spoke up. 

“Did we cross that little river that you take us to sometimes, already?”

“The river? Oh, the picnic spot we go to in the forest behind the complex?” You asked.

Yoongi nodded, making you shake your head, “Nope, we walked in the opposite direction.”

“Is it possible for us to go there now, then?”

You shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

Climbing back into your bag, Yoongi tugged Jin back inside too. “Let’s go then,” he called out, barely visible from their spot inside. 

Standing back up, you adjusted the bag before you started walking, now towards the new destination given to you by Yoongi. “Alrighty then.”

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

Hoseok grunted as Jungkook poked him again, “What?”

“Where’s Y/N-ie and the hyungs?”

Hoseok rubbed his forehead, taking in a breath before looking at the maknae with a tight smile. “Kook, I’ve been with you here the whole time; how would I know?”

 Before the younger could reply, however, Jimin spoke up, “They’ve been out for so long, though; grocery doesn’t take this long to get.”

Hoseok tried to come up with an answer, not knowing how he would get out of this without telling them about the true intention for your sudden departure. 

“We could call her,” Taehyung suggested suddenly, looking unbothered as he sat by the window enjoying the warmth he felt from the sun. 

Hoseok sighed in relief at the interruption, thanking his lucky stars as the other two shared a look, grinning as they rushed to Taehyung. 

“You’re a genius!” Jimin exclaimed, hugging him tight while Jungkook nodded excitedly from beside him.

“I know,” Taehyung replied, smiling smugly. 

Hoseok shook his head, flying behind the younger ones as they zoomed to the spare phone you kept in the house in case they wanted to contact you. 

When he arrived, he saw Taehyung already tapping on the screen to activate it before Jimin happily danced over the keypad to unlock the device. Jungkook grinned as it was his turn now, following Jimin’s action as he too jumped from number to number to dial you. Taehyung pressed the green call button when he was done, the three of them sitting by the device impatiently as it rang. 

After a few rings, they heard your voice from the other, quieter than usual. 

“Y/N-ie! Why are you so quiet?” Jungkook asked, pouting when he couldn’t hear you properly from his spot. 

Hoseok chuckled as he went closer, noticing that they forgot to put you on speaker. Without another word, he did just that, smiling softly at how much brighter the others' smiles got when they heard your voice clearly.

“Hello?” your voice came through, making Taehyung reply with a ‘hello.’

“Ah, Taetae! Why did you call? You need something?” 

“No,” Jimin said, “we just missed you.”

They heard you coo, making them smile even more and move closer to the phone. 

“Where are you guys? Grocery doesn’t take this long to bring!” Jimin asked.

They heard you clear your throat, hesitation in your voice as you said, “About that…”

“Yeah?” Jungkook urged, waiting for you to speak more. 

“We’re out looking at potential fabrics for Namjoon! That’s why we’re late,” they suddenly heard Jin speak. 

“But you’ve been out for almost the whole day!” Jungkook whined, “we miss you! We miss Namjoon hyung!”

“Please don’t be sad, babies. We’ll be back soon!” You tried to assure.

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

Jin and Yoongi stared at you from their position in the bag where you placed it down after reaching the river. You were on call with the younger ones and Hoseok as you paced the place while trying to soothe them.

“Jin hyung?” they heard from somewhere beside them, making them both snap their heads towards the sound to find none other than Namjoon. 

The two of them froze in shock for a moment, trying to process the situation before they tackled a very confused Namjoon to the ground, bombarding him with questions left and right. 

“Where have you been?” “Why didn’t you let any of us know before you left?” “Do you know how dangerous it is to leave the house alone like that?” “All of us were worried sick about you!” 

Looking like a lost puppy, Namjoon could only silently listen to his elders scolding him while holding the object in his arms tighter. 

“Huh?”

“Huh? Huh?” Jin screamed, “You go missing for almost a day without any trace, and your answer is ‘huh’?”

“I-” Namjoon tried explaining himself, though he was cut off by you walking towards them while still staring at your phone screen. 

“Alright, the babies are soothed for now. Where do you think we should start looking first?” You asked, eyes still glued to your screen. 

“We don’t have to,” Yoongi replied, shooting a look at Namjoon, which made the other one sheepishly rub his neck. 

Looking up from your phone, you asked, “What do you mean- Namjoon?!”

You dropped to your knees to be closer to the three fairies, leaning down to be face to face with them. “Where have you been?!”

 Namjoon smiled sheepishly, fidgeting on his spot before presenting the object in his hands to you without any words.

“What’s this?” You asked as you plucked it from his hands, noting that it was a four-leaf clover. Your brows raised at it; you knew how difficult it was to find one, looking at the fairy in question. 

Namjoon kicked at the ground, refusing to meet your eyes as he blushed. “You were stressing about your upcoming projects, so I thought maybe getting you a four-leaf clover for good luck would make you feel better,” he explained, “so I woke up early and came here to look for one. I didn’t realise how much time passed in that time; I thought I could be back before you guys woke up.”

You felt your heart racing, tears lining your eyes as you took Namjoon on your other hand, bringing him close to your face. 

Seeing your teary eyes, Namjoon panicked, “Please don’t cry! I’m sorry I left like that and worried you guys!”

You shook your head, laughing softly before placing a kiss on his head, making him flush at the action. “I’m not crying, bub. I’m just so touched at how thoughtful you are.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, Joonie. Thank you so much for your gift,” you assured him, “I’ll keep this with me at all times after turning this into a resin keychain!”

“Really?” Namjoon asked, his eyes sparkling excitedly.

You nodded, carefully placing the clover back into his hands, “Why don’t you hold onto that till we get home? Make sure it doesn’t get ruined?”

Namjoon nodded vigorously, saluting as he took the leaf back as you chuckled, “Let’s go home then, okay?”

“Yeah!”

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

“Just so you know, Jungkook might cling to you once you get home,” Yoongi told Namjoon as they all sat inside the bag as you walked back to your apartment. 

“They missed me that much huh?” Namjoon asked, chuckling. 

“We all did. We can’t be bangtan without you,” Jin chimed in, nudging him playfully.   

[persephoneyss]

The Monster.

Pairing: park jimin x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, anguish.

Summary: ❝You can be reborn like spring, but your nightmares will follow your footsteps at night.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, voyeurism, Jimin is a little delusional, implicit murder, death threats, a little violence, stalking, death of secondary characters, reader idolizes his mother, humiliation.

Number of words: 6000+

︙ Author's note: this is my first fic here, sorry if there are errors. My first language is not English and I don't speak it fluently either, so I used the translator. Sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it, I am open to criticism. Thanks!

(Puedes leer este y más fics aquí en español.)

To block.

Your mind felt strangely familiar, like it was processing the same situation all over again. And then the same thing happened again.

Blocking.

You never noticed those little details, invisible to the eyes of others. Or maybe you took too seriously the message and advice that your mother always told you when you were afraid of being left alone in your room because of the obvious and silly repetitive story of the monster under the bed, you were crying looking for your mother's room in the middle of the night. You were looking for refuge in her arms. However, the only loving words she had for you were: "Ignore him and he will go away, darling."

It seemed very clever to you, you began to close your eyes ignoring your worst fears and in a short time you could do what most children could not at your age, sleep alone in the dark.

Your mother was wise, maybe that's why you never understood why your father left her overnight. She never commented on the subject and little by little it was forgotten in her daily lives. Your father never existed, you never saw him again.

In his small town no one was exceptionally well known, unless he had done something good or bad enough to be called a hero or, in the same way, a villain. You were barely seven years old when it happened, a family with a lot of money had chosen your town as a decent land, enough to build their luxurious house where their children who came from golden cradles would grow up. According to the gossip, they were foreigners coming to invade their town and rule it, when in reality the Parks never got more involved in politics than necessary.

They were just rich, spending money.

Young women from all over the world and even from other distant towns came every day to try to conquer the privileged children of the great mansion built finely and strategically in the middle of the main square. The young women were beautiful, many times you stood at the door of your house admiring their distinguished perfect faces and you wondered if the children of the Park family were really worth it so that young and beautiful women who had previously been rejected would come back again. in search of new opportunities.

Your mother sometimes stood next to you with a smile and released another phrase that ended up marking your style of thinking, her voice sounded so ethereal: "Money compensates for external beauty, plus the dignity that you lose to those who possess it, it will never have a price."

Your lost look made her smile beautifully badly, then that same sweet voice that taught you things that other women would see as irrelevant, she too moments later she orders you to come home to eat. You thought about it so much, your mother was beautiful, she could remarry if she wanted to. However, she never did, or at least until that day.

You were poor, you were never afraid to accept it. You noticed it almost immediately, when you saw other children playing with toys that seemed impossible that you will ever possess, your mother was friends with the one who was best friends with your father, a carpenter who seemed to be very kind. He always gave you toys that came out with small defects and he couldn't sell, he was a good man until he seemed to misinterpret the situations and her relationship with your mother, unexpectedly asking her to marry him. Obviously you had to stop seeing him after the rejection. However, you were stubborn like the woman who gave you life, almost every day after finishing school you walk two streets to her local.

"How is your mother? Any suitors who weren't rejected the first time?" You laughed, helping him finish his last job. You shook your head, Peter was always very nice and honestly funny, you still didn't understand how your mother could reject them, but you never got into adult affairs. You were just an eight-year-old girl.

"She still misses dad." You whisper trying to drive a nail into loose wood, before being interrupted by Peter.

You look curiously at his downcast face of hers, as if she was keeping something deep within himself. But he quickly changes his expression as well as the subject. "Very good girl, no more help for today" he says, removing the dangerous tools out of your reach, you let out a exhausted sigh wanting to help him. Deep down you felt guilty. "How are you doing in school? I heard that the Parks will start a new campaign to help more in the education of the children, maybe you can see someone from the family up close."

You move your head in distracting affirmation playing with a piece of wood, Peter watches you for a moment and then sighs. You really were special, and if I could tell what happened to your father, you would let go of that glow for sure.

The following days passed in the same way, there was only a radical change in your routine. Now they forced you to stay longer in school so that you could take art classes with the children of the Park family. You had heard many mothers talking to yours about how handsome they were, and since their daughters would undoubtedly have a chance with Jimin, who was the eldest son and of course the first-born heir, you thought for a long time about a tall man with more years than all those young women who hallucinated with the perfect millionaire husband. However, it was all an illusion. Jimin was not a man, he was a seventeen year old teenager.

Perhaps the young woman who did win him over would be very lucky to marry someone her own age and not a bitter old man who only had money. Jimin was everything, young, handsome and a millionaire, the best bet of any woman.

His first class was alongside his current teacher, introducing each child in the Park family. They were all very handsome, but Jimin seemed to shine brighter than the stars in the dark night. You wondered if his younger siblings would become jealous of him, it would be an interesting concept considering you had no siblings.

Your hands moved the clay very patiently, your classmates seemed to enjoy these classes and they were undoubtedly fun.

"What a beautiful flower ..." You smiled nodding, no one would ever think that someone like Jimin would be delighted with the common drawing of any girl. Her gaze traveled around your pure and innocent face, as if she couldn't get enough of you. She sat next to you, admiring how your hands continued to play with the dough creating new shapes and I certainly enjoyed every second.

She had never met someone who would attract so much attention from her, you were ethereal. Jimin was immediately drawn to you, your gaze clear as daylight and your soft features, maybe you were just a girl but you seemed to tempt his attention incredibly badly from him. He felt the strange sensation of making sure you were okay, safe, probably in his arms.

He followed you closely, always arriving at the same time. Her mother used to say that Jimin was very irresponsible, she never complied with the basic principles of being a Park: Discipline, order and punctuality. Jimin was different, his siblings may have fulfilled those three bases just to give what they wanted to their parents and receive more affection from him, but not him.

Jimin was obsessive. Impulsive, and he had self-control issues.

The biggest dangerous trait that his parents noticed since he was little, is that he suffered attacks of anger against anyone without caring about the consequences of this. More than three of his babysitters claimed that little Jimin had hit them, slapping and shoving them. But all of this was radically ignored by the Parks, who turned a deaf ear claiming that their son was simply too controlling, and in a way, he was. Jimin liked to have everything under control, at his disposal.

Jimin found himself fascinated with your little eyes looking at him without fear and, even though it was painful for him, without love. For you, he was nothing more than a stranger. He tried to change that, sitting next to you every day and talking to you a few times when he could get more than two sentences out of you. He liked art, I could tell by the way you focus too much on a small painting of an insignificant tree.

If you liked trees, Jimin could buy a forest for yourself.

You loved roses, he could plant thousands in every corner of town.

Or maybe, your obsession with the smell of vanilla. Jimin went wildly for the most expensive vanilla scented lotion, hoping for some praise from you and he really didn't fail.

No, when the next day he sat next to you and your gaze turned to him with a kind smile. "It smells great, Mr. Jimin." Your soft tone and your minimal compliment was enough to make his entire body shake, his hands began to sweat and his voice seemed to falter. It was amazing how you managed to make him so nervous, while he was still a child.

"Y-do you like it?" She asked even knowing the answer, your head bobbing in a quick nod and an even bigger smile adorns your features.

You put your painting aside for a moment to continue responding, Jimin feels elated to see that his plan worked. Now you're just looking at him, as it always should be. "It smells like vanilla, I like vanilla." You say honestly.

"I see, I also like vanilla." You seem shocked, Jimin increases the tension of him fearing that he said something wrong. He really wasn't lying, maybe vanilla wasn't something he used constantly but he didn't dislike it either, he was just disguising and embellishing a crude truth.

And before long, Jimin feels his life take an unexpected turn, people had started to notice his closeness to you. They called him an angel when in reality he was a devil, rumors and silly praise that he would be a good father were not lacking and the young women who came to his door every day to look for a date with him increased in an exorbitant way. You were oblivious to all that, clearly. However, you could not ignore all the looks that fell on you when you accompanied your mother to the market, as from one day to the next you became someone important just because you were the focus of attention of him Mr. Jimin, as you used to call him with respect. Peter also suffered the consequences of this, you had not stopped going to his store and the young women looking to conquer Jimin or at least get his attention began to follow you wanting to win your affection so that you will speak well of them with their desired man, no you were interested in what they could offer you but the biggest problem was that they did not like to receive a clear 'No.' as a reply.

They were insistent and often annoying. They followed you closely, even when you went to school or to visit Peter who now only went twice a week, you did not want to go out and have to face the pity that it gave you to see many beautiful young women begging for a vague love and that I was looking for more money arrangements than anything else. Also, not all of them had good intentions with you. Your mother made sure of your safety in the face of any incident, and with that came her last word, her strict order not to approach Park Jimin again until he found a wife.

The rest would be history.

He would surely forget you and start forming his own family, having his own children and likewise, looking for his own problems. Instead, that never happened. Jimin had discovered your plan, he was angry, he couldn't believe that you were ignoring his attempts to approach you in such a way. Your attitude was so pure but you were hurting her so much.

He was delusional, she knew he was. But he didn't want to stop. So, he did the only thing that would make you stay by his side.

You felt strangely calm, you had been to and from school with no one following closely in your footsteps. Until you noticed that the whole town seemed to look at you with superiority, with caution. Peter never stopped taking care of his store, however, that day it was closed. You gave little thought to that coincidence, walking home with slow steps. Deep down you were scared.

Maybe you thought you could feel it, in front of your house a crowd of people lay watching the most unexpected marriage request. Your mother was uncomfortable, you could tell by how her face was distorted, and how her hands seemed to shake for reasons not yet known to you. You watched in horror as Jimin knelt before her with a smile pulling a ring out of a small red box.

For a moment, you thought about your father. You felt strange, you always wanted to have a warm fatherly hug but it made you uncomfortable to imagine Jimin occupying that place, you did not want him, you did not love him as a daughter to his firstborn or as another similar relationship. He was a stranger.

Your body fell into the seat reserved especially for you, your eyes observed any place in the church trying to disperse your mind. Your little shoes brushed against each other, your hands rested on the wooden seat waiting for the wedding to end as soon as possible. You never wanted to oppose your thoughts to the idea of ​​your mother falling in love or getting married again, you really didn't care much as long as that person was good for her.

However, he was Park Jimin. You felt disgusted when her mother looked at you from afar with despicable eyes, just as anger consumed you when Mrs. Park tried to embarrass your mother in front of everyone. You didn't ask for this, nobody asked for it.

Maybe you spent too much time thinking around you to notice that Jimin was unhappy. A little upset. He had done what he had to do, chained you to him in some twisted way, marrying your mother and he felt happy, at first. I could see you walking through the church, you were wearing a little white dress to match your mother's and for a sinister moment I imagine that you were the one walking towards him to be named his wife. But he quickly came back to reality, you weren't his fiancée. You wouldn't be his wife.

Deep inside him, he knew how gross it was to feel like this.

Your mother's eyes reflected how unhappy she was, her gaze was uncertain. Jimin smiled seeing how you kicked the decorations that fell to the ground, you were completely oblivious to everything and more to the look of her that she followed you closely. Many called him a good father. Seeing nothing but his protective attitudes, but under the circumstances there were only hints of what might come next. You weren't allowed to leave Jimin's house, his father had left the mansion where his whole family used to live.

Mrs. Park could find no better excuse to leave than the sudden tantrum of her first-born son for marrying an older woman, a widow, and a daughter. This is a mockery and disgrace to her family's last name. Jimin just let her go, he wasn't even there the day her mother boarded the first train to her grandmother's house.

Your mother flatly refused to leave her house at first, she did not want to leave the little cabin that your father had built with his own effort so that both of them would live there and in the future raise their children, you always lived there and you did not want to leave either. But you never had a solid vote, your mother ended up agreeing from one day to the next, you did not know how Jimin managed to change his word so suddenly. Maybe there was never one reason, but you became all of them.

You were painfully present at all times. You observed how little by little, the wispy and wise glow that your mother possessed was getting lost between her empty eyes and her bent body, her head was never raised as she taught you it should be. She was a stranger, you felt scared in her presence. You remembered very well how her face seemed to light up when she saw you coming home from school and how she taught you something new every day.

"Mommy..." You spoke, your hands were still busy with the picture that you hadn't finished painting. But curiosity began to attack your mind.

Your mother came out of the kitchen with a little gray apron, she smiled when she saw you sitting on the floor. "Yes, honey?"

"Why do people get married?" Your gaze lifted from the sheet of paper, wincing at her glowing eyes.

"It depends, it's not necessarily for love. Maybe for money, comfort or ..." her voice trailed off, she still staring at you she leaned down to take your face in her hands. "Because they found someone, as cute as you!"

"Mommy ... I want to marry you!" Your mother began to laugh, your gaze traveled all over her face, joyful of hers and for a moment, you swore that you would hate anyone who dared to take away the great happiness of a genuine smile.

You finished your drawing, just in time because the front door echoed through the entire cabin. Your father appeared with a small drawer in his hands, your mother seemed to be illuminated with an angel when she saw him enter with a kind smile. Both were such for which. They were, more than lovers and husbands, lifelong best friends. Your life seemed to have something that many do not get even after death.

An outer and inner peace. It was perfect.

Almost so perfect, it wasn't true. White roses were always your favorites. However, you began to detest its soft light petals when it seemed that all the townspeople bought the same bouquet of white roses for the funeral of your, now, deceased mother. You took a seat next to her grave, ignoring everyone's greetings and goodbyes, who apparently forgot how her criticism of her increased even as the days, months and years of her wedding with Jimin passed.

You couldn't blame anyone. Or you just didn't want to.

Because the rope around his neck was not placed by them. And the multiple scars on his wrists weren't his marks. A small part of you felt helpless, angry and respectively, disgusted with yourself. Could you help her? Yes. No. Maybe if you had ... And he had stayed in the past.

The little white rose in your hand fell to the floor, everyone had left the room to go to the large buffet served at the reception. You froze, then with the same rage you began to step on the already dead flower at your feet, the petals of it were no more than a pure color, now they were disgusting and dirty. Jimin appeared minutes later, your gaze fell on his hand that was holding a black and a red rose.

"We should go, honey." He whispered as if afraid to scare you even though you were already looking directly at him. Your immobile figure instinctively ran into his arms, which greeted you with an incredibly loving warmth. The roses were placed on top of the coffin, a smile spread across your face when you saw the color red stand out against so much white, and for a second you came to compare the beauty of an outstanding color with your mother.

She stood out in a world where everyone wanted to paint themselves pure white.

Jimin was even more welcoming to you now. He pretended to sleep waiting for 11:30 to arrive so that he could hear your footsteps on the way to his room, you had developed a great amount of fear of loneliness. Jimin knew you always did that, but before it was with her instead of him. You would walk for several seconds looking in the dark for his room, which was next to hers, then I would always hear her voice singing for you, making you rest in his arms. For a long time, I want to be her. But now he was gone and I knew it was a matter of time before your steps stopped at his door.

She loved the closeness of your body to hers, how your hands clung to her nightshirt when you were cold or a horrible nightmare was projected into your dreams. Jimin horribly wishes he could see beyond your dreams, although that would be disrespectful to your privacy, he wouldn't mind breaking your trust too much if he could be sure that you would never walk away from him, even in your dreams.

He managed to chain your life to his, your scared look was the most beautiful thing I have seen before. I want to touch your little face and kiss your soft lips that tempted him every time the word "dad" came out of it.

Time was his greatest enemy.

Your presentation was no better, your hands were trembling again while your feet moved from here to there restlessly. Jimin just watched silently, but the distance between you and him was gigantic, he just wished that the damn bitch that was presented before him would shut up and leave his house. It was remarkable how you seemed angry, maybe it's jealousy, she has feelings for me. He thought sickly, a smile spreading across his face discreetly at his incoherent thoughts of him. The young woman sitting on the sofa in front of him smiled thinking that her talk had caused some pleasure in the young and widowed man.

Jimin admired her face, she was very cute, also she seemed to have good manipulation technique in people. She noticed it quickly when she walked through the door, her smile that seemed uncontrollable and genuine lit up his childlike face. He took a few seconds, he knew he shouldn't do it but he couldn't help comparing the woman to you. You were shorter, you were obviously younger and your gaze was more pure. Jimin was proud of your firm stance, knowing that in the two years since your mother's death you had developed a closer connection with him, and likewise, you were a beautifully perfect copy of him. Your hard gaze and your legs crossed with each other showed your firmness, and your silent opinion.

You wanted the fucking bitch sitting across from your stepdad outside your house.

You laughed at the very idea of ​​one day finding a really good replacement for your mother. You couldn't replace a rose with bad herbs. For you, as selfish as he was, Jimin was your father, and he was your mother's love from the day he married her. No one would replace his position.

It was all three of them, and a part of your mind conned that Jimin still wasn't over the love he had for her. Or he would have remarried long ago, when the young women stood in front of the door of his house asking for a date with him. In those moments you didn't care, Jimin was a stranger, but now he was your father and you were his only daughter. No one had the right to ruin their harmonious relationship, they were both alone and someday serious like him.

You will be successful, you will make a lot of money and you will be able to marry someone you love.

But for now, your gaze fell on the little worn and dirty shoes of the woman in front of you. A smile crossed your face, your gaze lifted surprising the woman. While Jimin waited with his arms crossed for your following action.

"Woman." Your voice seemed to cut her tranquility, her face lost total color of life and a small grimace of fear passed over her fragile face. "I can't allow shoes like that to step on the carpet in my house ..."

The woman looked at Jimin who seemed indifferent, distracted by the painting on the wall.

"I'm sorry miss" she whispered trying to remove her shoes, his hands seemed more clumsy than usual. Her face burned when your hand moved closer to hers to prevent any further movement.

"Go away." A tiny part of you felt sorry for his embarrassed face and flushed cheeks. But it quickly came to your mind that she thought she was good enough to believe she was your mother. When she couldn't even challenge a stupid girl who acted like a spoiled brat. "Get out of my house, or I'll have to ask you not to just take off your shoes."

"I-sorry, I'll go now-..." A sob interrupted her dialogue, her hands searched for the notebook she was carrying but she gave up making a quick bow to Jimin and running outside.

The garden was your favorite part of the big house, the walls constantly made you believe that you were going to be eaten by them. Every day you came out of your lair admiring the many roses of many different colors growing beautiful and healthy. Your school stage was about to begin and you did not want to neglect your garden, which was also a tribute to your late mother.

So you hired a gardener. You were seventeen years old and soon to be eighteen. To say that you managed to experience the best of all those years was ridiculous, and deep down inside you, you thought that all of that was possible because of all the things Jimin did for you.

You had a debt, which you planned to pay in the future. You thought about leaving and letting him have a quiet life from now on without having to run to solve your problems, even if you never asked him to.

Jimin had eyes watching your every move, he clearly remembers how he put security cameras throughout the house, observing how you slept, what you did in the comfort of your room and privacy. Even when you walked into the shower and your hands ran over your body covered in water. Sometimes he felt guilty, for how he seemed to enjoy those moments that seemed so short.

However, it was repeated that as long as you were safe.

Breaking your trust wasn't that important.

Your eighteenth birthday was moderately quiet, Jimin was not used to throwing parties, and honestly, you never asked for one. So you just stood at the door of your house receiving expensive and cheap gifts from people who when they gave you the gift had a forced smile that told you many things. Most were familiar faces, of women who had previously sought a date with your father, obviously being rejected.

The little birthday cake looked so monotonous, the candles were the only thing you could stand out for. You were never aware that you had started to be privileged and extremely ambitious since Jimin proposed to your mother and forced her to marry him, pointing a gun at her pathetic silly little head. You had it all, and in your previous years maybe you managed to get excited about the new toys and accessories that were brought to you from other countries, you had everything that others did not, and a strange epiphany collapsed over you.

It was you, it was déjà vu. You were them, and those who were before, were now you.

You had all of them, and they didn't. Now, by your side, they were all poor. Jimin showered you with gifts, causing you to gradually lose interest in money. You remember your thoughts when it all started and likewise, you still remember the woman with the dirty shoes. You will be successful, you will make a lot of money. It was what you thought in the future for yourself, but now that was it, in a nutshell. Completely boring. You stayed for a moment thinking about them under the watchful eye of your stepfather who tried not to smile when you saw you, you were an adult now and he could finally take you as his own. They would be husband and wife, as it should have been from the beginning of its history.

And you will be able to marry someone you love. You still had only one option left, you blew out the candles with a single sigh causing Jimin to clap his hands and approach you to hug you fondly. The maids behind you only blushed when his boss started showing all of his affection. They weren't used to seeing him so often, Jimin had a firm and tough stance with everyone but he seemed to become as soft as clay in your presence. You came to mold Jimin in your favor, making him a cold person in front of his own demons and then, you left yours.

"I want marriage proposals, father." A gasp came from the mouths of the maids who just immediately fell silent. Lowering their head as they were taught. "I am ready to get married."

Jimin hummed still keeping his arms around you, your body was trapped in theirs. Your skin burned when his fingers squeezed your skin, leaving permanent marks. There was no reaction from you, you were used to this kind of unexpected treatment and it just didn't hurt.

"Get married?" His arms pulled away from you in disgust, there was no other reaction either. Jimin taught you not to object unless you knew you should. Stay calm and you will win. "And can you tell who would want to marry you? Useless little girl."

"Useless?" Your low voice seemed to make him happy for a moment.

Quickly his hands took the utensils to cut the cake, with a soft and sweet voice he continued: "Honey, men do not look for a girl with a lot of money like you. They look for someone to tame, and you, you could easily crush everyone with a wave of your hands."

A piece of the cake perfectly positioned on the plate was placed in front of you, a sob escaping your lips. You were really pathetic, eh? You clearly wanted to live something that has been claimed many times. You weren't going to get married, not without having it all like Jimin said. Then, you would lose everything and go back up to crush the others with greater pleasure.

"Aren't you going to eat? It's your cum-..."

"I will go to a neighboring town, I will finish my studies there."

Jimin looked down at his plate, ignoring how you got up from the table and put your cake aside. Then, your sweet voice finished destroying his self control that he thought he mastered long ago.

"I never liked that cake taste."

And it was the end.

You went back to the start again. You were planning to leave tonight, your bags were ready. Everything you needed was never in that house, it was never him. They were those that never existed in your present continued.

Your shoes did not seem to contrast with the dirt on the town's floor, you were also aware that those would end up in the trash. You didn't care, they were just shoes Jimin bought for your birthday, insignificant.

People were observant, and often foul-mouthed. It was no different than they spoke far from you or close to you, yet their mouths moved in a fussy way exaggerating reactions and creating new lies.

"_____...?" Your posture was decreasing, you no longer had to pretend. A smile covered your face, framing many emotions in one. "Come in please, it's your house."

Peter stepped aside, leaving room for you to enter. Your hands trembled but this time from cold, you still did not get over the harsh winter that suddenly passed. You took your shoes off quickly, briefly forgetting that this was no longer your home. You had sold the little cabin at a minimal price, and you were even happier when it was Peter who chose that place as his future home to live with his wife and his future child. Now he had two more. The little children ran in the tiny room playing with each other, a feeling of nostalgia invaded you when you saw them. You used to do the same before, together with your parents.

Those moments.

"Glad to see you around here, daughter." Peter hadn't changed, he was still the same kind and understanding person as ever. The opposite of you, of course. "Do you want to have tea? I heard on the streets that you would go to study far from here."

"Coffee, please." You responded still reluctant to talk about your departure.

Peter just laughed at your exaggerated denial, nodding and leading into the kitchen. You took a seat at the small table looking around. "You didn't change the decoration."

"Uh? ...." He seemed surprised by your observation, but he quickly smiled. "No. Actually, I think I liked it from the beginning how your ... er ... your mother decorated it. Besides, my wife loved it too. For her, it's beautiful as spring."

"Spring?" You ask, avoiding looking at it. You look down looking for some reason not to feel sad, in a way, you had compared your mother to spring as well. However, Jimin said that you were his. You never liked being called a light, because you always tried to be in your mother's shadow. And you liked it. "She believed that she is very wise, my mother was like spring."

"Thanks." A voice whispered from behind, your gaze fell on her and her face very much like your mother's. But they were obviously completely different. "I never doubted that you were just as wise. Spring represents the new beginning, a new beginning. Did you manage to find yours?"

Peter tried to intervene, clearly noticing the way his wife was trying to make you talk about your life after your mother died.

"I did. That's why I'm leaving here tonight."

"I'm glad we all need to be born again at some point."

You affirm with a small movement of the head, concentrating your gaze on the coffee cup in your hands. The smoke fell directly on your face hiding your grimace of disgust. Nobody deserves to talk about her like that yet.

"Ok, honey." Peter began by sitting across from you, with a cup of green tea and a serene expression. "Are you planning to go alone or with someone? I heard that travel today is very dangerous."

"Actually, I am accompanied by an acquaintance. His name is Jungkook, he also planned to leave and started working for me as a gardener to get the necessary money. We became good friends." You spoke remembering the adorable smile of the young man, he used to accompany you everywhere you went as if his job was to protect you. At first it was cute, but then it was annoying. Even after all that, you preferred to travel with him rather than alone.

"Oh that's very nice. I'm glad you managed to meet your goals. Good luck."

Your goals?

"Thanks, Peter."

His gaze lingered on your face for a moment, then he seemed to remember something very important. She gave you a smile before getting up to leave the kitchen.

"I have something for you, you are old enough to know this."

It was an envelope. Common and ordinary, but its envelope was beginning to deteriorate, showing that it was an old and very reserved letter.

You questioned your decision but took it, not wanting to read it in front of anyone even more when you read who wrote the letter.

You sat on the small wall, the trees and the cool breeze boosted your adrenaline. Small pieces of paper fell to the ground. So, you weren't thinking correctly at those times.

"I only married a man that I loved in all my life, I was happy. I had a daughter. I lived years of solitude and then, I was chained to an empty love."

"I know what you're reading this now. You're weak, darling. Maybe that's what made us mother and daughter. Because from the beginning I never had the courage to tell you that Jimin put a ring on my finger and a gun to my head. Or maybe, I was weak when I didn't get in the way of his errand, I should have told him that I hated him and that he could put a bullet in my head before giving it to my daughter. And maybe, I should have told everyone who passed by me that He was the same one who murdered my husband, he never left. I made you believe that. You never asked. "

"I saw you so happy today, you were running between the garden and the wedding. I could see his gaze following your hurried steps, I was almost completely sure that he was trying to get closer to you at all times. I told the woman next to me, But she shut me up saying that I can't be jealous of a father and daughter relationship. You weren't her daughter. She also ordered me to let them create a closer relationship, because I already had Park Jimin's heart in my hands. Liars."

"I always loved your curious voice. You used to ask me everything, and why everything was like that. But lately, I don't know what to answer. Why am I crying? Why is there a dark stain under my eyes? Why is there blood in the bathroom? Why did I never ask for help? I see you worry and you don't let me give you affection, because you prefer to give it to me. I also see how I start to bother him, I am a hindrance. Now I understand, I knew it but I never wanted to accept that it happened. He was everywhere, and likewise, I was never part of the plan."

"There were only two things I didn't tell you. I love you and my last piece of advice. Honey, lock it up and fly to the start, whenever you feel lost. A fresh start and never forget spring."

You stifled a sob. Covering up your pain. You had not noticed that the night had covered the sky, a dark blue blanket arrived. It took you a long time to assimilate that all the fragments were torn papers, and it was not a letter. It was an envelope filled with, apparently, incomplete sheets torn from a notebook. There was a fragment that was not part of the leaves, but rather was written later.

"Lost parts of a sad widow's diary.

Peter."

They were from your mother's diary. So where was the rest? What actually happened? A message came to your phone, you read it quickly still drying your tears.

JUNGKOOK:

Our trip is in an hour, I hope you said goodbye to everyone.

Received at 7:05 p.m.

I still do not:(

Received at 7:06 p.m.

Along with both messages was an attached picture, a photo of him and his grandmother. Jungkook talked a lot about her, and hers, her brothers. You smile, still wiping the tears from your face.

Your feet moved, the leaves in your hands seemed too heavy. And yet it was something you needed to do.

"Are you at home." His monotonous voice invaded you, he was busy reading a book that rested in his hand. The maid came over leaving a cup of coffee beside him, greeting your presence politely. "I have some things to discuss with you, darling."

"Me too, Jimin." It was the first time you had said his name without due respect, he seemed surprised for a moment. But his expression changed to one of happiness, as if he had been waiting for it. "I couldn't say goodbye, I'm leaving today. I think you already know that, though."

"Actually, no. But it's nice to hear it from you."

"I ..." Your voice dried in your throat, a giant doubt fell over you. You didn't want to leave without telling him how much you hated everything about him. His attention, his affection, his smile, his gaze, his voice. Everything about him was disgustingly charming. "I think I'll go get my bags."

Jimin nodded, ignoring your presence. Still distracted with reading him.

"Before you go, can you give me that back, darling?" Your gaze followed where he pointed his finger. Your hand. The leaves were still there.

"It's something of mine-..."

"Oh I don't think so. It really is very easy to threaten someone, just suffice to say that you can put a bullet in their head to make them your obedient little puppets."

"I do not understand your..."

"Me? It was obviously me. I'm surprised you thought your mother would be smart enough to leave a confession letter to her ex-lovers, days before her death. You really had a lot of credit for her." His chatter was accompanied by a laugh. You were paralyzed, shaking in your useless state of shock. "But I will not say that I did not plan, I hoped that you would never have the courage to try to leave my side. And even if that were the case, I knew that you would say goodbye to the only person who reminded you of her. Peter, she has a family. lovely."

Nor did he expect you to have the courage to cheat on him with another man. Oh, the gardener. Poor Jungkook, his body now rested leaving behind your favorite flowers. Jimin bit his lip, another mocking smile peeking out with intensity remembering the cutthroat figure of the innocent but guilty young man.

You were his...

"How can you be so cruel?" The doubt in you seemed to want to keep growing, passing second by second through your head. You weren't sure you could understand that everything that happened in front of you was actually planned by the same person who swore never to leave you alone. The same man who disguised himself as a sheep so he could eat you like a wolf. "Did you kill my mother ?!" Jimin seemed surprised by your desperate tone, he did not expect to be able to unbalance your state so easily.

It was lovely. Certainly.

"No sweetie." He murmured closing the book in his hands, setting it on the table next to the steaming cup of American coffee. "But it would have been exquisite to be the reason for his pain. Unfortunately, it was your father who won that title."

"Where did you get this from? I know she wrote it, and I also know that she would never give it to you knowing what a monster you are." Tears were running down your cheeks like water, you knew you were a mess but Jimin seemed to look at you like you were a perfect work of art.

"I found it." He spoke casually, getting up from his seat. Walking slowly towards your trembling figure. "It was a coincidence, I like casual things. It was a coincidence that you studied at that school, that your mother was a widow, that your father died. That he will make me fall in love with you."

What is your goal now?

"I love you darling."

Escape from the monster.

[yunhoiseyecandy]

✕ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞; 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬

✕ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

✕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 ◆ 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✕ 𝐰/𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

✕ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

[𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭] @little-precious-baby , @multidreams-and-desires , @hanatiny , @latte-fairytaekwoon , @cloudyyeonnie

─────

no matter how many times he’s been on stage, adrenaline rushing through his veins, the high of it all never gets old.

and he can’t bear thinking of the day it all ends.

he remembers the first time he ever picked up a guitar, the way the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough cords as he strummed to the beat. it was something that came so natural to him, and he knew at that moment, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he hummed, this was meant to be.

it’s been almost seven years since that day, and his heart still swells whenever he thinks about how he felt. it was amazing, but it’d been hard to try and convince his parents to allow him to play, let alone buy him his own instrument.

hongjoong chuckles at the old memories, and he finds it hard to believe that he was once a fifteen-year-old boy who begged his parents to let him do what he loved, hot, wet tears running down his cheeks as he pleaded on his knees.

he loved his parents, and to see them disagree with something that meant so much to him crushed him. they used to push for him to study harder in school, beg his teachers for extra credit so he could have even a slim chance at passing the class, but that simply wasn’t who he was meant to be.

he used to be a more than acceptable student, but since he started playing in a small band that had been formed by a few friends of him, he couldn’t focus on anything but the music he adored.

music was his drug, and it would be difficult to put him in rehab. eventually, though, his parents had chosen their son over school work and caved in. that christmas they had gotten him his favorite guitar, and he can still feel the smoothness of the mahogany as he ran his fingers over it.

he’d grown greatly since then, but the rush he still gets is the only thing that hasn’t changed since.

this was who he was meant to be, and he knew that nothing else could compare. he was more than proud of himself for choosing this career path, and he knew it’s the only thing he could do best.

that’s why he always put his all into every performance, head moving to the beat while he sang his heart out till it was hard to breath. and tonight was no different, especially since he had one of the biggest record labels in his country out in the crowd, scouting for the next best performer

—

“we’re up in five, man.” san said loud enough so the rest of the group could hear. hongjoong blocked out everyone, his fingers brushing over the strings as he sang the lyrics to their song under his breath over and over again.

they couldn’t afford to screw up this gig, and it was already going to be a challenge since they had one of their group members, seonghwa, out with a cold. he was the main drummer, so they had to call for backup if they wanted any chance of success tonight.

hongjoong twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a sip before groaning, “fuck. if I keep messing up this note we’re gonna be screwed.” he’d always had trouble with that certain line, but it always got to him right before they were up.

san laughed, “yeah, well whose fault is that for not coming to practice on time?” mingi looked over to him before bursting out laughing, but it soon faded when he saw the look on hongjoong’s face. “sorry, but it’s true!”

sure, they’d all been friends for years now, but that didn’t change how annoying san and mingi could be sometimes. seonghwa really needed to get better, or hongjoong would end up losing his mind.

“doesn’t matter,” he tossed his bottle into the recycling bin, “it’s not like I’m just sitting around when I don’t show up.”

“dude, we’re just messing with you. we all know you’re the try hard amongst us three.” this time it was san who lost it at mingi’s words, both the boys heads thrown back onto the couch as they held their stomachs.

“fuck you.” was all hongjoong could say, knowing damn well they would just look at him and continue to giggle like children if he tries to defend himself. he sighed, looking to his wrist watch and then standing up to collect his belongings.

it was now time to perform, and he was more then excited as he walked out onto the stage, his bandmates following right behind him. hongjoong never really knew why he got stage fright, especially considering how many gigs they’ve had in the past.

he’s done this before, but something told him tonight was going to be different. and that eerie feeling didn’t pass on, not even when he went on stage and played like it was his last. his heart felt like it would burst through his chest at any moment, and he loved the way it made him feel.

he could taste the sweat that ran down his face and over his lips as his tongue ran over them, but he had to ignore the saltiness of it and focus on what lyric came next. 

“you say you don’t want me but you always come crawling back,”

“I’m like your drug call me your dealer I’ll give you that,”

“I’m not your baby, don’t make it seem like we’re reserved,”

“you broke my heart and I learned my worth fuckin’ try hard.”

he looked over to mingi after he sang the last word, his hands gripping the white microphone as he smirked. mingi’s hair was damp, and hongjoong assumed he’d taken a water bottle and poured it over his head after his drums solo was over.

it was a signature move that made the crowd go wild, and the red head did it at almost all of their performances. they’d done it since the beginning, as all of their fans seemed to love it.

they watched as the people in front of them threw their hands up in they air as their bodies jumped up and down, and hongjoong smiled fondly as he watched the lightsticks they had around their necks glow. 

this environment, the setting, it made him fill with joy. and maybe it was the red t-shirt you had on that was different from the rest of the crowd that made his eyes meet yours, or it just might’ve been fate, but he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away from you no matter how hard he tried.

that is, until san wrapped his arm around him and bowed towards the hundreds of people they gave their thanks to. “c’mon, it’s time to go now man.”

—

“okay let me get this straight,” your friend mia started, taking a fast swig of her martini. “hongjoong, kim fucking hongjoong, locked eyes with you?” 

you knew you must’ve sounded crazy when you told her, but you saw what you saw. “yeah, I know. sounds stupid, right?” you ran a hand through your hair as you sighed, and you couldn’t believe your own words. 

you’d been waiting months to go to one of their concerts, let alone be close enough to the stage to be able to breath the same air as them. and to have one of the members actually acknowledge you existed had over the moon. 

you can still feel the way heat crept onto your cheeks when he bit his lip, your eyes wide when he winked your way. it felt like the whole world stopped for a moment, surreal, almost. you hated how easily he got to you, too, like he knew just a smirk or a smile would make you a mess.

and it was right. because as soon as you left the venue, your legs feeling like jello as you ran to the restroom, your lace underwear was a mess that only proved how sensitive you could be.

and that only made you wonder if the small exchange you two shared made hongjoong feel the same way. 

but all your thoughts and curiosities stopped when you the hotel door slid open and revealed the man you were just thinking about, his two friends and many people with cameras trailing behind him.

“is it true you have a new solo song coming up in the next week?!” one reporter shouted towards mingi. “are you three planning to split up soon like the rumors have stated?!” san huffed as he pulled his hoodie over his face, pushing hongjoong and the taller boy forward and near some stools at the bar.

they were all relieved when security came out of the elevator and blocked the rest of the paparazzi outside the building, preventing any more unwanted people from coming in.

“I love performing, but trying to go home and sleep can be so fucking tiring.” hongjoong said, running his hand through his messy dark blue hair. san and mingi nodded, and they waved over a bar tender to order a round of beers.

“tell me about it, they just always act like they’re about to attack us or some shit,” mingi huffed, “I’m so exhausted.” it was normal for mingi to get tired and anxious after a long day, but san and hongjoong knew it would be best if he went up and slept as soon as he could.

it had been hard for the younger one ever since he’d needed a break due to anxiety, so they were careful nowadays not to push him to his limit. they cared for each other, and seeing one of their own feeling down was never a good sight. “you should go up to your room, mingi.”

san hummed, agreeing with hongjoong as he took a sip of his beer. “yeah, we’ll check up on you later.”

mingi new better than to argue with them, so he stood up and fixed his leather jacket, telling him he’d order room service and then go to sleep. “see you guys later then.”

your eyes fixed themselves on mingi as he took the elevator up, hands shaky and clammy as you realized who the two guys in front of you were. “mia, you s-see them too, right?”

her mouth was open wide when you looked over to her, and you could tell she was speechless. you tried to regain your compose and took a sip of your drink, trying everything to try and get your senses back.

she saw what you were doing and played along, realizing you wanted nothing more than to crawl up in a ball and scream into a pillow. “so.. how’s school?”

you two bursted out laughing at her words, but your knee hit the counter and both san and hongjoong looked up at you. san looked away when he saw you were okay, but hongjoong’s gaze didn’t leave yours after he recognized you as the girl from the concert. 

“shit, he’s looking at you, y/n.” you focused your eyes on the glass in front of you, toying with the hem of your shirt as you let out a shaky breath. “shut up or they’ll hear us-”

“oh, you’re the girl from the concert, right?”

—

you didn’t even know how you were in this position, his lips smashed against yours in a hot and steamy kiss as you ground your bodies into each other. but you were. 

so for now, the only thing on your mind was how his hand felt between your thighs, thumb brushing over your clit and making your legs want to give out soon.

your back arched against the door when you felt his lips ghost over your collarbone, and you could feel his lip piercing against your skin as it burned. “ngh, hongjoong,”

your clothes had been discarded long ago, only your white lace that was now soaked through on, and hongjoong still had his black ripped jeans on along with his white t-shirt. he moved you to sit on his bed, “lay back for me princess, I wanna make you feel good.”

you did as he told, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him. his tongue swept up and down your left thigh as his fingers toyed with you over your panties., “please, just do something already..”

he smirked and gave a sharp squeeze to your other thigh, “patience, baby.” you felt him drag his lips up your body, taking his time to place wet kisses across your stomach and over your hip bones. “I bet you taste amazing.”

you groaned at his words, pulling him up to you by the nape of his neck and you crashed your lips together. he swiped his tongue over yours, groaning into your mouth as he did so. “then taste me.”

you didn’t have to say it again, and he trailed his way down your body while his fingers pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them on the floor. you watched as he spread your legs wide for him, and you could’ve come right them and there just from the sight of his head in between your thighs.

“so pretty,” his arms wrapped around you, nails digging into the skin of your waist. his eyes didn’t leave yours when he licked a long stripe up your pussy, taking his time to swirl his tongue around your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

you couldn’t help it as you reached down to grip his hair, and he moaned into you when he felt his scalp burn as you tugged. “fuck, you feel so good joongie.”

all his fans called him by that nickname, so he’s not exactly sure why it felt different when you said it. it came out like a whine, and he felt his boxers get tighter and tighter with each passing second. “tell me how much you want me, y/n.”

“I want you so bad,” you whispered into his ear after he crawled his way back up your body. “I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming your name.”

he tugged his underwear down and slid them off, placing lingering kisses on your neck as he teased you with the tip of his cock. “you want me, princess? want me to have my way with you, make you come over and over again,” his breath fanned your ear, “make your cum mess up the sheets while I keep you quiet with my hand around your throat?”

you couldn’t help the borderline pornographic moan that slipped past your lips at his words, or the way your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. he placed an open mouthed kiss on your lips, shaking his head lightly before pulling away from your body. “nah ah, baby. I wanna slap that pretty ass you have while I fuck you,” without warning, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and flipped you over, pushing his hand on the small of your back. “good girl.”

your nails scratched at the fabric beneath you, pushing your ass out and groaning when he spread your legs apart. he grabbed himself and dragged his cock up and down your pussy, and he swore he’d never been harder.

you couldn’t believe this was happening right now. one of your favorite artists is about to fuck you dumb, and all because you both so happened to stay at the same hotel for one night.

“you’re so wet, y/n. fucking soaking for me.” he leaned down to bite your ear before pushing himself in you with one single thrust. he didn’t move, and you assumed he wanted to give you time to adjust. “beg for it, baby.” and only if it was that easy.

the way you screamed for him to fuck you, and all while his hand was secured tightly around your throat. 

the way your brain was starting to get fuzzy, only thoughts of how good he felt inside of you present.

the way he would land a harsh slap to your ass if you tried to muffle your moans. 

the way he would groan or hiss whenever you clenched tightly around his cock.

it was all too fucking much

but you completely lost all your senses when he pushed down on the small of your back while he fucked into you, and you swore you could feel him in places you didn’t even know existed. “r-right there, fuck!”

he was panting, and in that moment he knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing. it felt different, almost too good to give up. he knew you were his new drug, and rehab would be a bitch if he wanted to quit.

his hand squeezed one last time, halting the breath you were ready to take. you felt your nails tear the bed sheets below you as you came, and you could feel his cum fill you up as it spilled out and onto the cloth under you. 

after he pulled out, he kissed up your back and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll go get the bath ready.”

and that’s when you knew, he was way more than just some boy in a band.

─────

[cinnaminsvga]

intermission • vi | moonlight

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jungkook) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none!! it's just jungkook being a cutie!! → words: 3.7K → a/n: this intermission chapter was actually written by @jincherie!! i'm posting it on her behalf since she's currently on hiatus. she had this chapter mostly finished a few months ago and we were waiting to post it until we were both more active (lol) but yeah... things change i guess... anyway see you guys next year (i wanna say /j but really... is it really /j...)

— • masterlist | prev | intermission vi | next • —

Jungkook's strength has never been making friends.

In his mother’s words, a “pleasant and sweet boy” though he might be, that didn’t help much when it came to meeting someone new and the storm of butterflies in his stomach would grow so strong that it froze his limbs and caught his tongue. He’s not too good at first impressions.

A “pleasant and sweet, but terribly shy boy” is actually more along the lines of how Jungkook’s mother describes him, now that he thinks about it. That’s probably a little more accurate.

The sprawling complex he lives in is full of kids, and Jungkook knows each and every one of them. He might be challenged in the social area, but his mother is anything but. She says he takes more after his father, and since his father is usually relaxing inside and reading or drawing when Jungkook sees him at home, he figures that makes enough sense.

Every time someone new moves into the complex, Jungkook’s mother goes to greet them. Of course, he is graciously asked (read: forced) to come along too, just in case they have any kids around his age. This is how he normally meets the other kids on the block. It’s fine, he can’t complain. He has to admit it’s nice meeting all the new and different people that come through. His family is probably one of the ones that have stayed in the complex this long.

When the house next door is emptied of the family he knew, it’s a while before the next one comes in. By the time Jungkook peeks out his window one morning, woken by the telltale sound of a truck beeping as it reverses, and finally sees some movement in the house next to his own, his mother isn’t home. She’d moved into the hospital just a few days earlier, looking ready to pop with the little brother he’d heard so much about in her belly. He’s excited to meet his little brother, and now as he stands on his tippy-toes to get a good look from the window, he finds himself a little excited to meet the new neighbours, too.

It only has a little bit to do with the great, big, fluffy dog they have. Just a little.

It takes a few days for them to move in fully. Jungkook watches from his window every now and then, seeing all sorts of different cars come through. This family has lots of helpers, he notices. By the time they seem to really settle in, Jungkook doesn’t see much of them. Actually, to his disappointment, he doesn’t see anyone around at all. He still hears the dog, glimpses it every so often, but realised that they probably walk it in the mornings before he wakes up.

His mother is home before long, his baby brother cradled in her arms. The first thing she asks as she steps through the door is, “Have the new neighbours moved in? Have you met them yet, Kookie?”

This is perhaps the first time all week he hasn’t cared about the neighbours-- he’s transfixed with his brother. It stays that way for a few days, until the allure wears off when the tiny baby won’t stop crying at night. Perhaps his little brother is something best loved from afar for now, Jungkook surmises.

Back to the window he goes – except this time, there’s actually something to see.

There’s a child! A combination of nerves and excitement bubbles within him as he sees a kid in the backyard playing with the dog, throwing a Frisbee for the massive puppy to leap up and catch in its mouth. The kid looks a little…. feral. Like the baby from that one funny caveman movie he watched with his parents. They’re rolling around with the puppy, uncaring of the way grass and dirt get on their clothes and tangle their hair-- they laugh the whole time. It takes a second for the sound to reach him, but when it does it makes his heart do something funny in his chest.

Ah, the neighbour's kid is a girl.

It’s you.

Jungkook has always been a little more shy around girls, but has never known why. To meet you, he’s going to need his mother there for backup. This is probably the first time he’s outright wanted to go meet one of the neighbours. It’s a little embarrassing, so he elects not to think about it too much.

He thought he would have to pester his mother more to get up and go greet them, but it seems she’s a little sick of being in the house so much because she jumps up the second he mentions it. His baby brother is graciously asleep when they make the trip one morning to the house next door, nestled in his mothers arms looking like an angel wrapped up in fluffy clouds. Jungkook wonders if you’ll like his brother as much as he does. If you don’t, then he doesn’t know how good of a friend you’re going to be.

The doorbell is different, it’s the first thing he notices about the house. Your family must have changed it when you moved in. It’s a bubbly, fun tune now, and he doesn’t even realise the smile it brings to his face. His grip on his mother’s hand tightens, but he misses the fond look she casts over him.

When the door opens, Jungkook thinks his nerves just might eat him alive. He’s so stiff he’s worried he might turn to stone and disintegrate into dust on the spot.

It’s you who answered the door.

You don’t look as wild and unkempt as you did that day he saw you from the window. Actually, your hair is in two cute little buns on top of your head and there isn’t a spot of dirt or grime on your overalls.

The way your eyes light up when you see him and his mother, as well as the baby held to her chest, is enough to make him forget to breathe for a moment. When he remembers, he feels like running his head into the pole of the awning.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mother greets, that big smile on her face that normally wins everyone over. “We’re from the house next door! We wanted to come say hello and meet you. Are one of your parents home too?”

“Hello!” Your response is instant, and the smile you return is so big Jungkook can easily see the gap where you’re missing a tooth. It seems like you’re beating him, he hasn’t lost that one yet. “Yeah, my mama’s home-- you should come in! She said she wanted to meet you guys! Oh, also, we have a puppy! She’s big, and actually maybe she’s too old to be a puppy but… she’s cute. I want you to see her!”

You’re rambling, but you don’t seem to realise. Jungkook couldn’t get a word in edgewise if he wanted to, but he finds himself more than happy to simply listen as he and his mother follow you into the house.

Your mother isn’t as wild as you, but he notices the same little sparkle in her eyes that you have in yours. He wonders if he and his mother have their own matching sparkle. That would be cool.

Right away, his mother hits it off with yours – two socialites of a feather, it seems. You fawn over his baby brother for a few minutes while they talk (he knew right then that you were a good one), before grabbing him by the sleeve and insisting on showing him around. You get a full tour in, and miraculously Jungkook finds it in himself to ask a few questions as you go.

“S-so, you like it? Here?” Every time he opens his mouth the words don’t come out how he wants them, but he can’t do anything now. At least he only stuttered once.

“Yes! It’s so much better than my old house! There’s so many more kids here, and they’re all so nice too!” You’re more than happy to blabber on, a hand thoughtlessly carding through the long, fluffy fur on your dog’s back. Jungkook’s own hand is doing the same (the fur is just as soft and fluffy as he imagined). “There’s more room for Poopie to play, too.”

Jungkook still isn’t quite used to the name of your pet, but something more important in what you said is taking hold of his attention. “Wait, you, uh… you’ve met some of the other kids?”

“Yep,” you say, gaze off in the distance as you try to summon them all from your memory. “Not all of them, but some! Um, I think one of them is named…. Chanyeol…? He lives down the street. Then there’s-- …”

A queasy feeling fills his stomach. He thinks it might be disappointment. For some reason, he thought he was going to come in here and be the first kid you met, that he was going to tell you all about the complex, maybe show you down the street. If you turned out to be a real good egg, then he had even planned to show you his secret place. But now that he thinks about it, it’s a bit silly to think that none of the other families would have come to greet you by now. You’ve been here for more than a week, after all.

He had a good time when visiting you, but for some reason after that day, he finds himself hanging back a bit. He wants to go out and play with you and the other kids, but when he sees you getting along with them so well he’s reminded of that queasy feeling from that day and he stays inside. Which, oddly enough, makes him feel even worse. He feels like no matter what he does, he’s losing progress with you. Maybe you won’t even want to play with him at all, you might think he’s boring after having so much fun with the other kids.

“You gonna go out and play, Kookie?” his mother catches him staring out the living room window one afternoon. She’s bouncing his brother on her hip, the demon baby sated for the time being. “There’s still plenty of time before dark.”

“No, I’m okay,” he answers, hating himself a little bit for it. Why was it so hard to say that yes, he wanted to play, but also that he didn’t. He thinks his mother would be able to help, but he has no idea how to tell her his woes. “I think I might draw a little.”

“Okay, sweets.” She comes over and ruffles his hair. “But if you do decide to go out and play, just let me know so I know where you are, okay?”

He nods, and she leans to kiss his hair before wandering back into the depths of the house. Maybe he will do some drawing, he ponders. It might distract him from the sight of you getting along so well with all the other kids.

Jungkook’s strength has never lain in being outgoing. This proves itself over the months when his attempts to grow closer and befriend you turn out unsuccessful, without fail.

You’ve made a good space for yourself amongst the kids of the block. You’re nice, caring and understanding, and never mean – sure you pushed Chanyeol off the seesaw once, but that was because he was being mean to Suzie. He didn’t do it again afterwards, and peace was maintained in the playground in the park at the end of the complex. Your friendship is sought-after, and with the beginning of the school year looming so close he’s running out of time to establish a friendship between the two of you.

When he spends an afternoon riding his bike at the end of the street, looping around and through the park, it’s definitely not just because you’re sitting there with some of the other girls on the block. When he summons all the knowledge stored in his brain from watching those bike tournaments and attempts to do a little trick, it’s definitely not because he thinks you might be watching. If you happen to see and think he’s cool, then it is what it is. It’s not like he’s actually trying to impress you or anything.

It goes okay, for the most part. His legs are a little tired though. He probably shouldn't attempt the trick he’s thinking of next, but he swears he sees you glance his way and he feels a surge of confidence flow through him. He attempts it.

He botches it.

The bike clatters to the ground and he rolls a bit, but his knees take the brunt of his meeting with the concrete path.

Lucky he wasn’t trying to impress you, because that was pretty humiliating. Lucky you probably didn’t see, either. His knees burn and he feels tears prick at his eyes, probably not just from the pain. He feels so embarrassed, so dumb. He’s touched his bike five times since he got it for his birthday last year, why did he think he would be able to do awesome tricks on it? Dumb, so dumb. He flees the scene before anyone can notice what happened, and completely forgets his bike.

He’s made it all the way home before he even realises it, his vision blurred from the tears that just won’t stop falling and his knees still singing in pain each time he bends them. He almost goes inside, craving a hug from his mother and her gentle hands on his wounds, but then he realises she would ask what happened, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to tell her. It’s too embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.

So he bypasses the front door, going around the side and slipping through the gate. There’s a tree that lines the side of the house where his window is, and it’s so tall it reaches well above the roof. Without pause, he climbs it, hands finding familiar grooves. He halts, hissing at the sudden sting – it would seem he’s scraped up his palms, too. His eyes burn with the added humiliation and he darts up the tree, making quick work of the climb until he reaches his special spot.

The roof of his house is mostly slanted, but there’s a flat bit at the very top on one side of the house. This is where he likes to go. No one ever looks for him here, plus the view is always very pretty. He doesn’t appreciate the sunset right now, though. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole way home, Jungkook held in his cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear and tell his mother. But now, in the embrace of his little ‘safe haven’, he lets them out. He buries his head in his arms and sobs, the pain of moving his palms only making it worse.

He doesn’t know how his little body can handle so much embarrassment, let alone so many tears, but for the moment he doesn’t think about it and surrenders himself to his woes.

He must be up there for a while before his crying ceases. By the time he lifts his head, the last of his tears drying against his cheeks, the sun is just beginning to disappear beyond the horizon. It’s pretty, how it casts light around the shadowy silhouette of the city buildings in the distance. He kind of wants to show it to you. That thought is quickly shut down. He’s going to ask his mother if they can move cities so he doesn’t have to face you again.

Alas, the world just doesn’t seem to be working in his favour today. He hears the rustling of the tree before he sees it. By the time he looks over to investigate, you’re already clambering onto the roof, an oversized fanny pack bursting at the seams with whatever you’ve shoved inside slung over your shoulder.

“Hey!” You greet with a smile, apparently oblivious to the dumbstruck look on his face. “Man, it took forever to find you! If I didn’t see you from the window in my room, I never would have known where you went!”

That was the idea, he laments. He hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Anyway,” you say, plopping down a foot away from him, safely away from the edge of the roof. You swing the fanny pack around so the zip is at your front, and rip it open. Immediately, a tsunami of bandages and band-aids flow forth, fluttering to the tile before you. They’re all sorts of different sizes, but one thing is common across them all – they all have pikachu’s face plastered on them in one way or another. “These are my special band-aids! My mama uses them when I hurt myself, and they always make it heal really quick! I didn’t know how big your owie is, so I brought them all.”

Jungkook is still stunned into silence as you sort through them, organising the chaos at least a little. One of your buns has come loose, he notes. One pigtail, one bun. You look a little more like that wild child he first saw from his window. The knees of your overalls are smeared with dirt, too. He wonders if it got like that while you were looking for him. It makes him feel a little warm inside.

And a little warm outside – his cheeks are starting to burn. He doesn’t remember scratching them too, but maybe he did…?

“Let’s see…” you’re practically just holding a conversation with yourself at this point. He surrenders his leg without protest as you grab it to inspect his knee. “Yep. That’s a big ‘un.”

His whole face has lit on fire. Even his ears feel hot. Is that normal? Probably not. He’d have to ask his mother to take him to the doctor. Maybe he’s dying.

He notices how close you are suddenly, realises this is the first time you’ve been fully alone together (without Poopie), and suddenly he can’t think. Like, at all. He may as well not have a tongue because he can’t remember how to use it anyway.

Somewhere amongst the bandages you’d shoved some tissues. You pull them out now, gently clearing the dirt away from the wounds on his knees. You’re talking as you do it, but his brain is full of static. Your hands are even tinier than his. Is that normal? Wait, no-- they’re the same size. What is he doing…?

Is he going to get in trouble for being alone with a girl…? His mother hasn’t told him about the birds and bees like she said she would yet-- is that what this is? Will he turn into a bird if he gets any warmer? Jungkook doesn’t want to be a bird.

You are placing large plasters over his knees when he finally tunes in to what you’re saying. “… -that last trick was pretty cool, too. It would have been even cooler if you didn’t fall.”

Jungkook squeaks, “You saw that?”

You nod, apparently unaware of his utter humiliation. “Yeah! You’re pretty good on a bike. Can you teach me sometime? I want to show my dad.”

He makes a noise that sounds enough like an affirmation that you accept it, a big grin on your face. For a few more minutes, you finish patching him up.

“There! All done!”

Pikachu stares back up at him from his knees, looking a little wonky because of their shape. The band-aids are a bit wrinkled, but you look so proud of yourself he forces himself to ignore it. He looks up, the words of thanks he took so much courage to summon dying on the tip of his tongue as he sees you.

The setting sun changes the colour of your eyes a bit – it’s pretty, he finds himself thinking. Immediately afterwards, he blushes. Even more embarrassingly, he finds himself unable to help but observe that the sun suits you, actually. Bright, persistent, a little bit sparkly. In the sun’s last reaching rays of afternoon light, you look a bit like you’re glowing.

Of course, Jungkook is used to his silence, but it seems you’re only just noticing it. You seem to misunderstand it’s cause. “Oh, do they hurt?”

Your words tear him from his reverie, and the startled look on his face doesn’t exactly help his case. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realise they were that bad-- oh! I almost forgot the next step! My mum always does this whenever I hurt myself.”

Then, without a second spared for him to prepare himself, you lean over and plant a kiss on each of his bandaged knees.

Jungkook thinks he might explode. The entire neighbourhood is going to see him take off and zip through the sky like a rocket. His earlier thoughts of moving cities and changing his name come back full force.

“There, they hurt less now, right?” But you’re still grinning, still bright as ever with shining eyes hoping for a certain response. Despite himself he takes a moment to assess the level of pain he’s feeling – oddly enough, it does feel a bit better.

There’s no way he can manage to say that, though.

Instead he nods, wide-eyed. You let loose a sigh of relief, muttering about how you didn’t know what you’d do if that didn’t work. He swears he catches the slightest warmth in your cheeks, but doesn’t know whether it’s a trick of the sun.

“Thanks,” he finally manages, his voice just shy of a whisper. You hear him anyway and flash that gap-tooth smile his way.

“Of course! This is what friends are for!”

You think of him as a friend? Jungkook can’t help the dumb smile that rises to his face. He likes that. Friends. As the two of you stay on the roof until moonlight begins to filter through the tree and your parents are calling your name, he thinks he’d like for things to stay that way.

He’d like to be friends with you. Always.

[whiskery-louis]

Game Night

** Hi everyone here is my first imagine in a while and it is pretty long and there will be a part 2!

Synopsis: Luke and you broke up 6 months ago. Ashton invites you over for game night.

Luke Hemmings x reader

Warnings: None

Please enjoy and let me know what you think!!

*not my photo*

“Come on Y/N you have to come see us! We’re traveling across the country just to see you!” Ashton whined through the phone.

“Well I didn’t ask you too Ash. I can’t risk seeing him-”

“He’s not coming, he’s staying here with her. Hell I don’t even think he knows we left.”

You sighed, “Who exactly is ‘we’?”

“Me and Mikey,” you could hear the smile in his voice. You had always been the closest to him and Michael. Not that you and Calum weren’t close, it was just different.

“What about Cal?” you asked.

“He’s staying back so you know who doesn’t get suspicious about the three of us all leaving for a weekend.”

“I don’t know Ash,” you sighed again. “I have work and stuff. Plus I was supposed to see the twins this weekend, and I wanted to go to Target…” you trailed off as you rattled on with excuses.

“Oh please, you know you miss us just as much as we miss you. It’s been six months Y/N, just come hangout for the night. I promise it’s not gonna be anything big. Just you, me, Mike and Crystal. We’ll just do pizza and play some games. Please Y/N, we’re already at the airport and if you don’t come willingly we got your new address from Lacey.”

You mentally cursed your best friend, she knew you specifically didn’t give any of them your new address for this very reason. You were out of excuses and you could hear Ashton’s smirk through the phone. He had you cornered and he knew it.

“Fine. Text me your Airbnb info and I’ll come over tomorrow when I’m done work. But you better be getting the good pizza, and there better be drinks.”

“Yes she’s in!” you heard Mikey yell in the background. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face.

“Bye boys, safe flight.”

You hung up the phone and put your head in your hands. While part of you was very excited to see Ashton and Michael again there was still a part of you that was worried. There was too much history between you and him so of course they all knew about it. They tried not to take sides during the break up but everyone knew he had Calum and you had the other two. It was part of the reason that you had moved back home instead of trying to find a place to stay in L.A.. You could feel the tension that was building between the four of them and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin their friendships or their band. It was all way more important than you. 

You hadn’t really spoken to any of them much other than the casual ‘how are you’ texts here and there. But from him it had been radio silence for six months. Now here you were, five minute after speaking with Ashton and you were already more stressed than you’d be in week. What did you get yourself into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was nearing 6:15 and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull up to the house, you had been circling the block for almost 20 minutes and every time you were about to stop you told yourself one more lap. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you, you knew it was only Ash, Mike and Crystal and yet just the thought of being around his friends was enough to make you sick. 

“Fuck it,” you muttered, finally pulling into the drive. You grabbed your bag, and although you hated to admit it, you were excited to see your old friends.

You walked up to the door and hesitantly knocked on it. As soon as your knuckles hit the wood you could hear yelling and footsteps running up to the door.

“Y/N!!!” Ashton yelled engulfing you in a massive hug.

“Can’t breathe…”

“Oi sorry, I’ve just missed you lots.” 

“I missed you too.” you grinned at him, wondering what you had been worried about all day. It felt like no time had passed.

“Well let her in the door man,” Michael spoke up from behind.

You smiled as you entered the house and walked over to Mikey hugging him hard.

“It’s been too long,” he muttered as he let you back.

“Well yeah, that kinda happens when there’s a global pandemic and I move across the county.”

You could tell Michael was going to tell you off for moving but Crystal came in the room then and thankfully saved you from talking about him.

She wrapped her arms around you giving you a quick hug, “It’s so good to see you, I’m glad you made it!”

“Me too, though if I didn’t come willingly I knew you’d show up on my doorstep.”

“You got that right,” she laughed, “It took all my energy to keep them in the house all day.”

“Well I appreciate it, I had a lot of work to get through today figuring I’ll still be hungover on Monday from this weekend.”

It was fitting that as soon as I mentioned being hungover we walked into the kitchen to a full stocked bar.

“Man I forgot you guys really go all out for game nights,” you couldn’t help but laugh at some of the fond memories.

“Okay so what game are we playing first?” Ashton asked as he handed you a drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later and you really didn’t understand why you were so nervous to come. It was one of the best feelings catching up with your old friends and thankfully they didn’t bring him up once. You were in the middle of an intense game of charades, Crystal and you were kicking the boys asses.

“Alright do you guys want to give up yet? You’re never going to beat us so why not save yourselves the embarrassment.”

They both looked annoyed at how the game was progressing, “Well maybe if Mike could draw anything other than stick figures we would’ve stood a chance.” Ashton grumbled.

“And now you see why I always make sure someone else gets stuck with him,” Crystal laughed as she dodged the pen Michael threw at her.

You all laughed as you cleaned up and you went over to the stack of games, contemplating what you wanted to play next. You guys had made your way through a few different games and a few rounds of drinks and honestly you were exhausted. Since moving back home you didn’t hang out with many people other than Lacey and you forgot how much energy it took to be around people. You were tired but it was the best kind of tired. 

“Can we just watch a movie now? I’m tired of losing,” MIchael whined from the couch.

“That’s exactly what a sore loser would say,” you shot back.

Michael just smiled and shrugged his shoulders looking at you, “At least I know it, but I so call picking the movie.” He picked up the remote and started searching through Netflix looking for a good comedy that everyone would watch.

“Anyone up for another round?” Ashton asked and you nodded following him into the kitchen to help. It was silent as he rummaged through the alcohol looking for something new to drink. You hopped up on the counter waiting to see what he would make.

“So how have you really been?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, startly by his question and you could see him looking at you intently and knew exactly what he was talking about, or more so who he was talking about.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated what to tell him. “I’ve been fine.” you answered shortly.

He scoffed at your answer, “Come on Y/N, I know you better than that and as relaxed as you seem, there is still a part of you that is on edge. You ghosted us all when you left and it was like we lost a member of our family. So tell me the truth, how are you really?”

His answer startled you, and you blinked to keep the tears at bay. “Ash I really don’t wanna ruin the night and talk about him. Can we just table it for now and go back in there with Mike and Crystal. I really don't wanna bring the mood down.” You stared back at him and there must’ve been something in your eyes because he dropped it. He handed you a drink and the two of you went back into the other room. 

“Hey what were you two talking about?” Crystal asked as you sat next to her on the couch, a knowing look in her eye.

You elbowed her subtly, “Debating if Mikey was gonna pick a shitty movie or not,” you laughed.

“Don’t hate until you see it, it’s a good one you all like.” He pointed to the TV and you saw Shrek was on. “Also you could say thank you I ordered a pizza and it should be here in about 30 minutes.”

“Didn’t you just eat a plate of buffalo chicken dip and mac’n’cheese?”

He shrugged, “If it’s a problem Y/N then you can’t have any.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

You held your hands up in defense “No, no. Just asking, I’m for sure eating that pizza.”

“That’s what I thought,” Michael replied smugly.

You just rolled your eyes at him and sat back to begin the movie. Not even 10 minutes later and there was a knock on the door.

“Y/N since you were so judgy you can go answer the door.”

“Fine, fine. Though you suck at telling time Mikey, this was way less than 30 minutes.”

You got up from the couch and made your way to the door excited that the pizza was here much earlier than anticipated. There was another knock on the door as you were opening it. You froze when you saw who was there. 

Luke.

He must not have been expecting you either because he had a dumbfounded look on his face, and his fist was frozen in mid knock.

“Y/N?” he breathed, his eyes boring into yours.

It was silent and you both just stood there and stared at each other. It had been six months since you had seen him and although there were some noticeable changes he was still the same Luke who broke your heart all those months ago. His arms were larger and his shoulders slightly broader. His hair was longer, his roots growing out which somehow suited him more. He had shaved his quarantine beard but the stubble was growing back. His eyes were the same blue that you fell in love with, but they were missing the usual mischievous glint.

“Luke why are you just-” Calum was caught off walking up behind Luke, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” He squeezed past Luke and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You had no words as you hugged Cal back, you were still in shock at them being here and you couldn’t take your eyes off Luke,

“What the hell is taking so long?” Ashton came around the corner and froze when he saw the new additions to the party. “Oh you guys are early…” he trailed off.

At his statement you felt the rage building in your veins, you pushed Calum off of you turning to Ashton the anger seeping out of you. “I’m sorry what? They’re what Ashton?”

He looked sheepishly at you, “Surprise?” he shrugged his shoulders, with a slight smile on his face.

You couldn’t believe this. It was all a setup. The whole night was a trick for you to see him again when Ashton knew more than anything that it was the last thing you wanted. You were at a loss for words, as much as you wanted to yell, you didn’t have the energy anymore.

“Look we can explain…”

You held your hand up cutting him off, “Don’t Ashton, just don’t. I don’t want to hear it. I’m leaving.”

You stormed into the other room, to get you things. MIchael was trying to look busy but the guilt was written all over his face. Crystal was sitting next to him with her arms crossed glaring at her fiance, she looked up when you walked in.

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had no idea or I would’ve never let them pull this stunt.”

You gave her a weak smile, “I’m just going to get my things and go.”

Michael turned and looked like he was going to say something, but one look from Crystal silenced him.

“Thanks for the fun while it lasted, but please don’t reach out again,” you heard footsteps behind you and knew the others had followed you into the room. “I thought maybe I could be friends with some of you,” you pointedly looked at Luke, “But if this is the shit you are going to pull them I am out. I’m sorry but I cannot go through this again. I just can’t.”

With that you grabbed your bag and all but ran out of the house. As you sat in your car you were thankful that you didn’t have too much to drink and were able to drive yourself home. The thirty minute drive seemed to take forever. All you wanted was your bed and to be distracted by Netflix. After what felt like an eternity you pulled into your driveway and walked into your house. You threw your bag on the table and couldn't believe the night you had. You knew Ashton and Michael had wanted you to talk to Luke when you first broke up, but that was six months ago. You never thought that they would pull this shit tonight. It was almost more painful this time as you realized you had to cut all of them out of your life and not just Luke. 

You hadn’t expected to see him tonight and it really messed you up. You had spent the last six month erasing him from your life, as much as you could. You put everything he gave you into a box that was hidden in your basement. You tried to throw it away but it felt wrong somehow. He was too big a part of your life to completely get rid of. Lacey once asked you why you didn’t get rid of it all and you knew she thought it meant you still loved him but that wasn’t it. You just couldn’t bear to part with everything that had once brought you so much happiness. You hadn’t opened the box since you moved back home, as you went downstairs to bring it to the kitchen, you knew it was going to hurt more after seeing him tonight, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You spent over an hour looking through all the memories the two of you had made during your time together and you were a mess sitting on the floor with tears rolling down your face. Maybe it was from the exhaustion that raked your body or the alcohol that was still in your system but you left the contents of the box sprawled over the island and slipped on his old Nirvana shirt before going to your bed and finally falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next thing you knew you were being jolted awake by a banging on your door. You looked at the clock and groaned when you saw it was only 8:00am. Who the hell would be here so early. Hoping it was just a package you rolled back over and tried to fall back asleep, when the person knocked again.

You signed as you rolled out of bed and trudged downstairs in nothing but the old shirt you fell asleep in. Rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the brightness, you opened the door and had to squint to see who was there.

“Y/N, you uh forgot your phone and I wanted to make sure it got back to you safely.”

You hated that your heart skipped a beat as your name rolled off his lips, your eyes focused on him and the events of last night came back to you instantly.

“Luke.”

[youalexturnermeon]

Heyy <3 Love your Blog! Can i take a request with Johnny Lawrence? But fom Karate Kid 1984 if that’s fine :p like the reader and johnny playfully fight and this turns out into fluff and a lightly make out session with sarcasm or sassy remarks? That would be perfect! ☺️

Thank yooou! 🖤 And yeeeeees!!! I love myself some sassy Johnny! I already have a very specific plan in mind. Just have to ask you if you are alright with swearing and/or slight mentions of alcohol/smoking cigarettes or weeed? If not, let me know and I will leave it all out! I want wverybody to feel comfortable with their one shots 🖤

Request: see above

A/N: It’s a good old Johnny Larence x reader and I got a little carried away. Please be nice since English isn’t my first language. But I’m actually very proud of it because I enjoyed writing it very much. Well, I really love myself a sassy Johnny

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and smoking, FLUFF

Wordcount: 1400 (sorry again, I got carried away)

It was not dark anymore as you sat in the cool sand, looking at the water, slightly boozed but at the same time the clearest you have ever been. It wasn’t bright either, but the first sunray already tinted the sea golden on the horizon. You were far enough from the long dead party; you could not hear the people who were not yet ready to let the little celebration from the night before end. At the same time, you were so close that you still could make out the song softly playing out of the forgotten radio. You took a drag from your cigarette and closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of a new day, smelling the fresh morning air, blowing the smoke out.

“Whatcha doing here so all alone?”, you suddenly heard, followed by a thump next to you. As you opened your eyes, you saw a familiar face, mischievously grinning in your direction. Johnny, the biggest jock from high school, the biggest bully, the up-to-no-good Johnny, with hair almost as golden as the sunrise, let himself fall in the sand next to you, laying on the side, his head supported by his hand, was smiling at you. And you couldn’t help yourself but smile back because you out of many, many people knew, that the real Johnny was nothing like the one he played on the outside. He just showed it very rarely.

“Are you deaf, (Y/L/N)?” he laughed, proving this point.

“Nothing.” you said jokingly “Fuck off, Lawrence!”

“Nah, I’d rather be here with you, if you weren’t so boring right now.”

“Didn’t you have enough fun at the party that you have to bother me?”

“Bothering you doing what?”, he asked raising his eyebrow nudging you at the same time. Maybe it was the booze still flowing through your veins that made you feel a tingling sensation exactly on the spot where his hand touched your skin but maybe it was the fact that you had fallen so hard for Johnny. And to be fair, you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay with you. Yet didn’t know any other way to talk to Johnny without him losing interest in you, you thought. He was indeed interested in you, you went out a couple of times, you made out twice, but god knows for how long he would stay interested. You had to keep him busy.

“Being away from all of you, especially you, Johnny!” you mocked him, hoping he would understand that you were meaning the exact opposite. Then you raised your right hand in which you were still holding the lit cigarette, stressing what you were actually doing here so all alone apart from the others. You did not want to smoke around them because it was your last one and you really didn’t want to share it.

“Oh, I see.” he said nodding, still clearly amused by you. And then, faster than you could grasp it, he snatched the cigarette out of your hand and put it between his own perfectly shaped lips, the boyish grin never leaving them either. Blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, nobody looked sexier smoking that Johnny, still lying next to you on his side.

“Hey, give it back!” you yelped trying to tear your last cigarette from his hand which was so much bigger than your own. But again, much faster than anticipated, he blocked your shaky hands with ease.

“Try that again” he laughed, visibly entertained by your unsuccessful attempt. He wanted you closer to him that’s why liked to see you fail getting back what’s yours because he knew, you would come at him as long as it took you to either succeed or get completely out of breath. Which was exactly what he needed right now, your hands all over him.

And you didn’t let him tell you that twice, you tried again and again but he was much stronger and faster than you would ever be, even in his relaxed position. You were ready to jump at his throat, but he was always one step ahead of you. All of a sudden, he was on his feet and running away from you, his golden hair almost glowing in the rising sun.

“Come and get it, (Y/N)!”, he screamed when he came to a stop waiting for you to catch him. And again, when you were so close to catch up with him, he took another abrupt turn in his route, losing you, laughing at the game he created.

“Johnny, I can’t” you were gasping for air, holding your aching stomach “I can’t anymore, please stop!” Still, you were laughing since you were so happy to spend time with him, joking around.

“Okay, okay” he said, raising his hands in defeat, “I will give it to you now, you just have to come to me and get it.”

Johnny was holding the almost distinguished cigarette towards you. You literally had just to go over and take it out of his hands. So, you thought. Once you reached out for it, Johnny dropped it in the sand.

“Oops” Johnny said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His bright blue eyes were flickering with mischief.

“I swear to fucking god, Johnny Lawrence!” you screamed “I’m gonna full-on karate-kick you in your stupid fucking face!” In your fucking stupid beautiful face face, you added in your head.

He narrowed his eyes and his glance pierced right through you. He really wanted to see you try doing that.

“You sure, babe?”

Johnny stood still, waiting for you to make the move, he was pretty sure you would never. He was so much taller than you, you were so small next to him and if he was being honest, rising inches about your head, turned him on. Johnny loved being the big guy. Nevertheless, the playful fury in you made you do unthinkable things. With just a little onset you swung your leg so high that your foot almost his him in the face as you had promised. Both of you were so astonished by the fact that you could reach so high. For you it was already a huge accomplishment, but an even bigger surprise was that Johnny managed to get hold of your ankle in mid-air. He was a Karate champion after all.

And just like that you lost your balance falling down into the sand hard. But you wouldn’t be (Y/N) if you haven’t had dragged him down with you. He immediately wrapped his arms around you tightly, softening your fall as you landed on his chest.

You two started rolling around in the sand, wrestling with each other while your “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Johnny!” threats echoed through the air. He rolled on top of you, his weight delightfully pressing you down onto the ground, pining your wrists above you head. His face was so close to yours, you could smell his cologne and his hot breath, still slightly having a whiff of smoke and booze tickled your skin. Johnny stared deeply into your (Y/E/C) eyes.

“I’d rather have all helpless under me like that” he whispered, his voice dark, whilst his lips brushed over yours. Your heart started pounding like it was about to escape your ribcage but that was okay, Johnny’s, too, was beating with yours in sync. And then his lips crashed down on yours. They were soft and he tasted of cheap beer and your Marlboro but for you, it was the greatest thing you have ever tasted. Carefully, Johnny released hands, cupping your face, while you wrapped yours around his neck, tugging his hair. He let out a small grunt. All the time during the party, watching you having fun with your friends, this was the only thing he wanted to do with you. And you felt him smile into the kiss.

“We should do that more often” he said when he let go of you, both of you out of breath.

“You wish!”

“Hell yeah, I do”, he admitted. Then he rolled over to the side fumbling in the pockets of his tight blue jeans until he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.  

“Now, let’s have another smoke and then let me bring my girlfriend home”

“What???” you gasped.

“You heard me, (Y/L/N)!”

This was by far, the best party ever.

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 3)

If he knew that he would be blamed for murdering someone the moment he got back to Gotham, then Jason would’ve waited another week or two before returning.

No matter what a lot of people said, Jason wasn’t stupid. He knows not to expect things that were unlikely to happen.

Jason couldn’t risk raising his hopes when it came to the bats.

He knew that he wasn’t gonna receive a warm welcome filled with hugs and cupcakes. Honestly, the most he expected was a nod of acknowledgment. And if he was lucky, then maybe- maybe he would’ve gotten a smile with the quiet whisper of a welcome back.

It made his heart twist in all the wrong ways to know that his family didn’t trust him as much as he thought. Jason genuinely believed that he and the bats were on good enough terms to earn him the benefit of the doubt.

He forced himself not to flinch as he met Batman’s harsh, distrustful gaze.

“I wasn’t even here when he was killed,” Jason tried to say as calmly as he could, knowing that if he loses his temper, everyone would use it against him. “I was following a case up in New York.”

He couldn’t go back to Arkham! Not again. Not with the Joker only a few cells away from him, taunting him with his laughter— his voice filled with cruel exhilaration as he continuously promised Jason that they would play together once again. How he would soon be reunited with his favorite playmate.

His favorite Robin.

He heard someone suck in a breath behind him.

Jason didn’t expect anyone to defend him. Not against Batman. But still-

He didn’t expect them to just stand and watch as Batman tore him into shreds once again. Batman threw accusation over accusation, yet he never once provided a single piece of evidence that proved it was Jason that did it.

He took a step towards Jason and he had to force himself not to flinch. Batman wouldn’t… not with his kids in the same room.

He ignored the rising panic in his stomach. Jason was safe.

He was safe.

Bruce wouldn’t beat him in the cave. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Damian.

Jason would be able to walk out of the cave with his ability to walk. He was gonna be okay.

“Look, B. You can even ask them,” he pointed at the spot where Dick and the others were standing. “I told them that I was leaving Gotham for a while.”

Batman turned to where Jason was pointing. “Well?” he asked expectantly.

The cave was engulfed in eerie silence before Tim opened his mouth, faltering a little when he met Jason’s pleading gaze. “He’s not lying Bruce. He told me that he had a mission out of Gotham while we were hanging out a few weeks ago.”

Jason could feel his chest loosen up for a few seconds, thankful that Tim confirmed his statement.

He remembered the day that Tim was talking about. The bats were getting even clingier than usual. They weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were following Jason anymore.

Tim asked Jason if he wanted to watch a movie and Jason agreed.

The bats were gonna be watching him anyways— they didn’t even try to hide the fact that they bugged him and all the known safehouses he has.

At this point, Jason didn’t know whether he should feel offended with how much they underestimated or relieved.

They already viewed him as dangerous and unpredictable. If they ever find out that Jason’s been holding back, even if it was just a little-

He won’t let them throw him back to Arkham. Jason would rather go back to the League of Assassins.

If Jason wasn’t watching Batman so closely, he would’ve missed the sliver of a nod the man-made.

Jason tried not to think of the fact that Bruce immediately accepted Tim’s answer without hesitation.

For the millionth time in this conversation, he wished that he was wearing his helmet. Instead, he forced his expression to remain calm. To remain bored as turned back to Bruce an eyebrow raised.

“Is that good enough proof for you, old man?” he couldn’t help but spit out, bitterness clear in his voice.

Batman remained unaffected, not even bothering to verbally answer Jason’s question. Instead, he just nodded.

Jason’s heart clenched, of course, he wouldn’t get an apology. Batman was too prideful for that.

“Truth.” Cassandra’s voice rang across the cave, breaking the heavy silence. “No… not lie.”

Batman nodded once again and Cassandra’s eyes met his. It took everything in him to stop a retort from coming out of his mouth.

Couldn’t she have said that a few minutes ago? Before Batman ripped him apart like he was nothing but flimsy paper.

Still, he guessed he should be thankful that she defended him. Even though it was too late.

After a few seconds of no one saying anything, Dick broke the awkwardness with an annoying smile on his face. “Now that that’s settled, why don’t we get that movie started?”

It was only because of all his training that Jason didn’t break down right there.

Of course this was just another thing that they’d sweep under the rug. Something that they would never want to speak off again.

Discussions of what movie they were supposed to watch erupted the room. It didn’t take long for an argument to break out between Damian and Tim.

Jason watched the scene for a few seconds before looking away.

They looked like a real family.

He turned away, these things happened frequently enough for Jason to know that he wasn’t welcomed.

He blocked out all the noise as he walked towards his helmet, eager to put it back on.

It was only a matter of luck that the universe hated him so much that he knocked something down, the thumping noise alerting everyone that he was about to leave.

Jason couldn’t help but feel relieved that he put on his helmet as soon as he got his hands on it.

At least he didn’t have to go to all the trouble to force his expression to remain impassive anymore.

Batman could use it against him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed, “Where are you going, Jay? I thought you were joining us tonight.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’m not in the mood to watch a stupid movie tonight.” Jason spits out.

Was Dick being serious right now? There were so many things wrong with that question.

One: Why would Jason want to spend more time with the people who thought he murdered someone and didn’t even bother to defend him.

And two-

No one invited Jason.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jason hopped on his motorcycle. He needed to get out of the cave.

He could feel their eyes on his back but no one bothered to stop him.

The last thing he heard was Cassandra’s voice assuring the bats. “Be back,” she said with enough confidence that one would think that she could command Jason to turn around with only her words. “He will be back.”

Jason held in the harsh remark that threatened to leave his lips.

Plus, it wasn’t like Cassandra was lying. He knew it— and hell, the rest of Bats probably knew it too.

Jason would come back. He always did.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

But for now, he needed to get away. He thought that one week would be enough to calm the pit.

It wasn’t.

In fact, he feels like the interaction with the bats today just made it worst.

He’ll stay away from them for two weeks. That should be enough time for the pit to stop screaming at him.

But who would he stay with?

Jason had enough experience to know that the best way to calm the pit was to surround yourself with people you trust.

Kori and Roy were still in space.

And Talia was busy with the civil war against Ra’s.

Jason had no one else.

Except-  

His phone grew heavier in his pocket and he remembered that an Avenger owed him a favor.

Clint said that Jason could text him whenever.

And the more he thought about it, the more Jason decided that he did trust the archer in some way.  

Jason soon found himself staring at the side mirror of the vehicle and poisonous green eyes stared back.

He quickly averted his eyes.

Clint was his last choice. And Jason couldn’t risk being in the peak of a pit episode without anyone to keep him in his place.  

He could do this.

It wasn’t like he had another choice.

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

notes:

Balancing out school and volleyball was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Only one month has passed and I am swamped with work.

I don’t know how I feel about this chapter. It’s not my best work but I wanted to put something out for you guys!!

I hope that you liked it.

I’m gonna spend this weekend to try and get my life together so hopefully, that means that next week will be easier for me.

Especially since I still need to finish my permit course. (If you couldn’t tell, I’m kinda hating sophomore year of high school right now)

Like always, please leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! And they would help an extra ton these days.

And once again, if you have any fanfic requests, questions, or just suggestions for a specific fanfic i’m writing, just leave it in a comment down below or you can just message me here on tumblr.  

[husbandograveyard]

Chapter II: The Stem

Chapter Summary: So, you’re interning with Hawks. And he’s even more perfect from up close. If only it weren’t so hard to actually get close. 

Chapter Warnings: Pining, secondhand embarrassment, tiniest mention of blood. 

Word Count: 2.5k 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist 

Even though your love had been growing for a pretty long time, it was now in a deep slumber. Sometimes, to wake something up, a good shaking is needed. But sometimes, a single moment can be enough already. 

In your hero training, you had learned very early on that nerves were not necessarily a bad thing. The adrenaline could be used to push yourself a little bit past your limits every time you felt your heart thumping in your chest and the blood rushing through your veins. Nervousness, much like fear, was just a bodily response to a situation, a way of your body telling you ‘Okay, we’re ready for whatever is coming’. 

Only today you weren’t facing a villain, quite the opposite. You were literally about to meet your hero, and you were more nervous about it than you thought you would be. 

It was still remotely quiet on the streets. It was way too early for most people to be out yet. You weren’t exactly sure as to why Hawks would let an intern start this early, but you had mentally chuckled at your own thought of Hawks being an early morning bird. Maybe that would be a perfect joke to crack to diffuse any nervous tension, or maybe that was a terrible idea. You didn’t even know if you would be able to speak properly the moment you’d come face to face to the man that you had been trying to meet again for such a long time. 

You slipped your phone in your pocket after checking the time for the sixth time that morning. Being a little early was considered polite, being half an hour too early was not. You didn’t want to come across as a nervous over-achiever who couldn’t even read a clock properly, but you had to admit that you hadn’t been able to close an eye that night, and had decided to get up and get ready earlier than anticipated, thus arriving at Hawks’ agency building more than an hour early. 

‘Time for another walk around the block’ you told yourself as you turned to the side to walk around the block once more. If anything, you were getting a good idea of what the general neighborhood around the agency looked like, something that could only help you if you were to patrol around the agency soon.

“L/n Y/n?” 

You had barely taken a step to get started on your fourth walk for the morning when you heard a familiar yet strange voice call out your name. Your head whipped around to look at the source of the sound, only to see him standing there. 

“Mr Hawks! Sir!” You stumbled over your words, scrambling to turn around and bow at the same time to greet your new mentor. You felt the blood rush through your face, your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears as you tried to hide your embarrassment for the words you just said and the fact that you had been idling in front of his agency for long enough to be noticed. 

You heard him chuckle. You stood up straight again, only to see him dismissively wave his hand in front of him. “Oh please, none of those formalities. They make me feel incredibly old. Keigo is fine in here, just Hawks when we’re outside. We will be working together after all.”

You nodded eagerly, still a little shaken from the sudden confrontation. You were feeling starstruck, you were finally meeting your idol, your hero, but at the same time, there was still the familiarity of seeing the little boy from the hallway, all grown up. It gave you the weirdest feeling, a strange sense of déjà vu, a tingle that started in your stomach and then spread over your entire body. You couldn’t put a name on it, but it felt exciting. 

“I’m sorry I am so early.” 

“No worries, I have been here for a couple of hours already. Night shift.” 

You nodded again and followed him as he walked inside, but not before pointing up at a point a little above the door you had been idling in front of earlier. “The cameras picked you up about an hour ago, I recognized you immediately.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He recognized you? Could it be that he remembered you? Even after all those years? The mere idea made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

“You really look exactly like the pictures on your resumé.” 

Your heart dropped as Hawks continued to speak, he didn’t even notice your sudden lift and drop in mood. It was over before he could even face your way. 

“Thought I’d come retrieve you and show you around before you were gone again walking around the block.” 

You laughed nervously, apologetically. You were feeling like a fool. Of course he wouldn’t recognize you. It had been years. He had been trained, became famous. He had met so many people, seen so many faces. Of course he’d forget someone he knew when he was five? seven? Even you had a hard time pinpointing the age you had been and the memories played in over and over in your head like a broken record. For him, they were probably nothing more than a blur, something that had to be erased from his memory to make room for things that were so much more important. 

Hawks showed you around the building. The agency didn’t employ a lot of people. “I am too fast for most sidekicks to keep up with, they’re more so a cleanup team than anything else.” There were a few offices: “The administrative team saves my life. They take over all the things that I simply don’t have the time for. But reports and such are important, they probably tell you that plenty at UA.” 

You could only nod and try and remember as much as you could before the tour ended. There was only one other person in the building besides you and Hawks, because you were so early, and the people taking the day shift would arrive a little later. Most other employees had been sent home for the day, the night shift had been very uneventful Hawks had told you and he had added that it was how it should be. 

He had shown you to a small office space, across the main office, where he sat. “Not often, because I rarely do my own paperwork. Most of what I do is patrols, the occasional actual hero work when crime happens and a whole lot of set work for magazines, commercials… those things.” That matched the image you had made up in your mind of him. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to waste away many hours behind a desk. None of the top pro heroes seemed the type to be honest, with a few exceptions like Nighteye maybe.

“Himari is the head of administration, she does most of my planning and such. I just check my phone calendar and she tells me where to be. You’ll spend quite a lot of time with her. You can wait in her office for now.”

You walked into the door that he held open, taking a seat across the neatly organized desk.  You turned around in your seat as you noticed Hawks not following. “I’m going home for a quick nap, I have some shoots in the afternoon. Good luck Y/n.”

With that, he closed the door and left you alone in the office. You had a few moments of silence, a few minutes of rest before the internship would turn into actual work, and you made great use of them to calm down. Nearly an hour had passed since Hawks had picked you up at the entrance and showed you around the agency. Time had flown by, and it had been hard to focus within Hawk’s presence. He seemed so easygoing, so laid back. A lot of his hero persona seemed genuine, and you found this a very attractive trait. And truth be told, his personality wasn’t the only attractive thing. 

You coughed to clear your throat and your own mind. You were here to grow as a hero. Surely, you had your ulterior motive of wanting to reconnect with your little childhood friend, but the more you thought about it now that you were here, the more that seemed like a bad idea. Your gut was contradicting your brain, because even the little contact just now was enough to make you crave more somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone entering the office you were sitting in. A beautiful looking young woman entered and approached you to shake your hand.

“You must be y/n, I’m Himari.” 

You stood up, murmuring a “Nice to meet you” back as you shook her hand, a little disoriented from your thoughts being interrupted so suddenly.

“Welcome here. I will be your go-to for all your questions and concerns during your internship with Hawk’s agency. ”

“Thank you.” 

“I am assuming you want to spend as much time as possible with Hawks himself, and while I will be doing my best to assign you things that will allow you to work with him, I must warn you… He is a bit of a loner when it comes to hero work. He’s too fast for most to keep up with.” 

You nodded understandingly, Hawks was notorious for his speed and he had said it so himself earlier as well. You were still hoping there was some role left for you out in the field. You were by no means future top ten material, but you were definitely working hard enough to make a name for yourself in school. You were sure there were some ways in which you could even be useful to someone like Hawks. 

Himari continued: “that being said. Would you be up for some media work? It’s all part of being a hero too, and Hawks doesn’t mind some company when he’s out on set.” 

You blinked a couple times. While she was right, PR work was a lot of a pro’s job, you hadn’t even considered it being part of your internship. Especially not next to someone like Hawks. 

“I don’t… I-”

Himari laughed. “Oh don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. And it’ll be a great way to get your face out there for future job opportunities.” 

You nodded, because she was right. There was nothing to lose if you’d do this, and it seemed like the best way to actually spend time with Hawks. 

“You’re right, it’s a very good opportunity. I would like to try it out.” 

She nodded and grabbed a pen, moving behind her desk to scribble some things down.

“Well… other than that I have a variety of work for you. Do you have something to write with? Because this might be a lot to take in all at once.” 

You panicked a little. You had put a snack, some drinks and all the essentials in your bag to take with you, but pen and paper, something you’d never failed to bring to school, was something you now completely forgot to bring here. Your panic was only short lived when Himari slid a notebook and a pen across the desk for you to take. You mumbled a thanks as she started to list up all your possible tasks and what would be expected from you if they’d be assigned to you. 

The list seemed endless and your hand was a little sore when she finally stopped talking and you had a vague idea of all the things they could possibly ask from you. Nothing your training at UA hadn’t prepared you for, and yet, seeing it all stacked up like this in a nice list made it seem a little overwhelming. The most disappointing part of it all was the amount of tasks you had put a little star next to: the things where you would actually be working together with Hawks. 

The first couple of days you only ran into him sporadically, doing some patrols with another sidekick, filing reports, helping Himuri with contacting certain brands for advertising… Hawks stopped by your office twice to check up on you, and both those moments, you felt like you were on top of the world. Despite working very hard and most of the time not really doing the work you were hoping to do, the little moments you got to spend with him, where you were important enough to him to just come say hi to, made it all worth the hard work.  

Today’s meeting had been especially motivating. He sat on your desk, telling you that he had heard great things about Himari of your work. You could only smile and thank him profusely, your heart racing the moment he smiled and winked at you. “Let’s hope you do just as well on set tomorrow.”

You choked on air while trying to form a response and coughed a couple times. The wink had activated a whole new level of butterflies and you felt almost embarrassed to admit that at this point, you were actually developing a crush on your mentor, your childhood friend, even though he had no idea who you are besides a hardworking intern. You knew you’d be accompanying him on a commercial shoot the next day, you had not expected to actually get involved in the shooting. 

“I will do my best to not disappoint you si- I mean Hawks.”

He laughed. His eyes closed, shoulders shaking. A genuine laugh. It was a little loud, and with anyone else, you’d have thought it insincere. But from him, it was the best thing you’d heard in a while. 

“No need to be nervous, I’ll help you through it. After all, it’s only natural that I’d actually do some mentor work, right?” He smiled again, and you could only nod, clearing your throat as you tried to get rid of an itch that had persisted after the coughing fit. 

“I’ll leave you to your paperwork for now. I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” 

“I look forward to working with you tomorrow.”

“Oh and Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be an hour early, if you sleep in, you’ll make life easier for the people doing the make-up.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind him as you looked down at your paper in embarrassment. You knew he was kidding, but still felt a little ashamed every time he referenced the hour you had been waiting at the front door when you just started. You wiped away a droplet of spittle that had flown from your mouth in the earlier coughing fit, grabbing a tissue to clean the tiny spot from your desk. You were shocked to see the little patch on your tissue was red.

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