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hobiwonder · 5 years ago

Text

mission impossible | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, crack.

Warnings: Oral, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight degradation. dom/sub themes (jungkookie being a good boy and then... not so good lol)

Words: 9k+

Summary: When you find out that your groupmate is whoring it up on tinder instead of handing in his part of the project, you go on a mission to teach him a lesson. And maybe get him to finish his part.

A/N: hello!!!! thankyou all for waiting patiently. or maybe you’ve just forgotten about me lol. it’s been a while since i uploaded anything!!! I hope you enjoy this crack as much as I enjoyed writing fuckboy but still a movable baby!jungkook. please don't forget to tell me ur thoughts. feedback keeps me going :)

If it was something strange, it would happen to you. You were not just saying that because of the hint of narcissism in your personality that made you think that everything was about you. Oh no. You never seem to catch a break these days. And quite honestly, you should’ve expected your dose of absurd to be handed to you soon. It had been a week too long without any fatuous incidents and/or people happening to you. Was this just a y/n thing? Was every girl with your name cursed? Maybe it had something to do with your astrological sign. That always seemed to be the explanation of a lot of your friends who did not want to admit to their faults that would land them in hot water. The usual “oh it’s because i’m insert-star-sign”.

Were you really becoming that girl? Though it was hard to blame yourself for this one. Currently staring at your phone. More specifically, the defined abdominals of your group mate. A group mate who has not shown up to a single meeting. After a whole day of slaving away at your study desk, deleting and rewriting your discussion and evidential analysis to conclude whether or not it was a plausible inference that the movies, Whiplash and Black Swan were excellent cinematic representations of the ‘Obsessed Performer.’

Yeah. That was a mouthful. And you bet your right ass cheek that you were the only one out of yourself and Jungkook who had even watched the said movies. In the group of four, Jungkook and yourself were given the discussion and conclusion to write. The three of you who had been present at the initial group meeting had chosen your parts as was decided in the group chat prior. When all of you had received a text from Jungkook cancelling last minute, you’d snagged the conclusion as well as half of the discussion to write as just the conclusion would be a little too easy. And you had wrongfully assumed that your peer had been in some sort of ‘emergency’ since he always sounded like he was in a hurry to do something incredibly important.

You’d pitied the seemingly sweet looking boy and told him that you’ll work together on the last two sections of the paper. And his bastard self had always been all smile emojis and ‘yes :)’ and just all around misleading. Sounding like he was diligently working on his part by himself and definitely will turn everything into you by Thursday. Thursday was yesterday and you had not received even a single message from Jungkook about where he was in terms of progress on the 1000 words he needed to write. Message after message, you weren’t even being left on read. And in concern you had messaged your group chat that maybe he was facing some real life crisis to be so MIA. Until this.

Until you had picked up your phone about half an hour ago to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed and then in the last 10 minutes had decided to also go on to tinder just to humour yourself. You were well aware that tinder was a cesspit of weird and unhinged men who would only be a good enough to make a youtube video about or a horror story texted to your best friend. You were speaking from experience. Decent men on tinder was like finding a luxury vintage dress in half good condition at a thrift store.

So when you’d swiped left for the 30th time - you’d finally come across the perfect face of someone very familiar. You’d almost swiped left on reflex before you’d brought the phone almost too close to see why the face looked so recognisable. Even without having actually ever met Jungkook face to face - apart from that first lecture - it was hard to miss that this definitely was him. Your mouth had fallen open, jaw just shy of touching your soft bedsheets. You’d found Jeon Jungkook on tinder. His perfectly coy smile staring right at you, the first few buttons of his black shirt open wide to capture your attention back to his smooth, muscular chest. Hastily dialling Momo’s number, you can barely contain your shock and anger and annoyance. All of it wrapped up in one powerful burst of dialogue that you subject Momo’s ears too.

“Bitch!!!” You can’t help screeching, mind boggled.

“What happened now? Jungkook finally reply to you?”

“No oh my god. I found his tinder. I found his tinder Mo. I found his tinder!” You were screaming again but you couldn’t help it.

You were missing a Jeon Jungkook to rightfully scream at so poor Mom was bearing the brunt of your anger and maniacal laughter because your brain was having a hard time believing your luck.

“Wait, seriously? Did you match him?” Oh wait. Of course. There was still another step.

Wordlessly you swipe right, hard skipping a few beats in anticipation. And when the screen shows that he swiped you right as well and that you could now message him, you’re laughing once more.

“So he did. Wow. What a piece of shit.” She’s also laughing albiet much more like a normal human being.

“I cannot believe this Mo. This fuckhead doesn’t read any of my messages for the last week and I find him matched to me on tinder?”

Just then, your phone vibrates. Telling Mo to hold on, you don’t want to believe that this is actually happening. You had just received a message from Jungkook. It had barely been a whole minute of you matching up with him on this app and he had already messaged you.

Jungkook: What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

This must be a bad dream. Were the cameras of Punk going to start showing up form under your bed? Were you being punked? Not only was Jeon Jungkook just the worst partner out of all the group projects you had been in, he was most definitely a fuckboy. Who used terrible pick-up lines. Did he really not recognise you? Granted that your pictures were not the ones you had put up on facebook - it was still quite discernible that this was definitely you.

��Mo, he just sent me a horny pick-up line oh my god. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course he did. I always thought he was a bit of a player. What did he say?”

When you read out the message, both of you are coughing from the laughter. This was too ridiculous and just very much like something that would happen to you. You had a group project due in less than two days and your group mate had turned out to be a bit of a horny bastard that was more concerned with getting his dick wet than messaging you back.

“You need to message him back, y/n. Pour the cold water on him already and tell him how badly he fucked up.”

“No way! I bet you he’s going to never message me back. At least on tinder i’m going to get a reply. Just how the hell do I ask him about the paper that he should’ve emailed me, like, yesterday? Ugh.”

“Just message him back, firstly. Or lose the only communication you just got. Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

“No idea.” Typing your reply and deleting it - much like your assessment that you were working hard on. Unlike him.

You: Hulk always was my favourite Avenger :)

“You did not just say that! Grossssss.” Yeah. Humouring fuckboys was exclusively for post 6 tequila shots Y/n.

Chuckling at your own response, you’re trying to keep your cool while trying to keep Jungkook’s attention so he doesn’t stop messaging you.

“Mo, wait. I just had an idea.”

“Please, y/n, violence is not the answer.”

“I won’t hurt him you knob. Okay talk to you later!” Not a lot anyway.

“I’m telling the police I don’t know you if they come around tomorrow! Bye!”

Making a face at your phone for good measure - you go ahead with your plan. There was no way you were letting Jeon Jungkook get away that easily. You’d been working so hard this semester. Harder than you have ever tried and you would not let his sloppy self to bring down your grade on an assessment that was worth 40% of your grade. Nearly half. Neither did the people in your group deserved it.

“Just you wait, Jeon. I’m going to kick your horny ass.”

Jungkook: let my Hulk destroy any traces of bad fucks you’ve had.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at his brashness. Did he really just ask you to fuck? This is the second thing he has said to you and it’s him asking to fuck you. You can’t believe how much of a textbook fuckboy he was. When you haven’t responded for a few minutes, you get another message form him.

Jungkook: if that was too forward ^-^

Jungkook: then what i said was a lie lol.

Jungkook: I'm probably the best fuck you’ll ever have.

You cannot believe your eyes. With each message, Jungkook is either confusing you or making you shake your head at how exactly like all the other boys on tinder he is. This was hands down, the longest conversation you have had with Jungkook directly. In the group chat he generally adressed everyone, shooting haphazard apologies right before meetings. Saying he would not be able to make it. It had frustrated you to no end as the date for submission got closer and closer. And to see him reply quicker than you, on tinder no less, was beyond infuriating.

You: Well then. Prove it.

You: Where do you live?

You doubted that Jungkook would be reluctant to give you his address. That’s just not something you see happening. Maybe he preferred to go to the girl’s place? That wouldn’t matter to you either. Though convincing him to bring his laptop with him would be a challenge but you were fine to let him work on your own. There was no way you were letting him go without coughing up his part.

Jungkook: you sure?

You: wanna fuck. Hurry up.

Jungkook: you’re so sexy :)

You were going to literally lose it. Not sure why you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard to stop yourself from laughing at his messages. Jungkook was the epitome of a snapchat fuckboy. It was much more hilarious than you anticipated. You were expecting to be feeling the singular emotion of sheer hostility. But you were having too much fun with this. Especially when you weren’t going to actually fuck him but seeing how eager and self-assured he was, this was all the more pleasant.

Jungkook texts you his address and you let him know that you’ll be there in around 20 minutes. He lived surprisingly close. Though him staying in an all male rich residential college was definitely not a surprise. Only kids with a lot of disposable income and no worries of being evicted avoided doing any actual school work. The rest of you were not privy to such luxury. The more you thought about it the more you knew how gratifying it will be to show up at Jeon Jungkook’s door with a pile of notes and your laptop. He was in for a treat.

Dressing in that one little black dress you had was only part of the plan. An attempt to fool him one last time before you handed him the checklist of what he had to do. You shrug on a large jean jacket that fell below your bottom to conceal your provocative dress, grab your bag after stuffing all the necessities and then set out the door. Dialling Momo’s number, you let her know where you will be incase anything happens. You could never be too careful.

“Yo, I’m going to Cornell college. Jungkook apparently lives there so I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you serious? He told you his address?!”

“Sure did.”

“I pray for his soul.”

“He made me suffer far longer! Whose side are you on, traitor?!”

“Yours but knowing you, he’s in for a LOT. Okay stay safe.”

“Yeah yeah. He needs to be safe not me.”

“Yeah that was what I was saying. Anywhore. have fun.”

“Bye.”

The closer you get to the college, you are starting to hear loud music. Was this even allowed on colleges? Were there not any volume restrictions given what time it was and the fact that it was managed by onsite staff? Arriving on the level Jungkook told you his room was, 4th, the music is even more noticeable. The sign pointing to the common room was where most of the bass was coming from and you guess maybe there is a function going on. Though the closer you walk, you realise that this was not just any event. This was a party. The cracks in the door gave away to the activities happening inside the large hall. Deciding not to wait any longer, you text Jungkook again. Being as serious as you can be to get him to meet you outside instead of carrying your backpack with you inside.

You: I’m here to fuck, not party.

Jungkook: it’s a good party tho. We can slowly take it back to my room ;)

You: I’ll find someone else.

You hope he takes your bluff.

Jungkook: love it when you order me around baby.

Jungkook: don’t forget who’s in charge. Me.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, still smirking at your phone. No matter what your initial intentions were, you had to admit that playing with Jungkook was fun. He was unacceptably attractive and looked like the type of guy you would reduce to tears. But none of that tonight. You had to stay focused. You’re about to type another message to speed him up but he beats you to it.

Jungkook: room is unlocked. go in. i’ll be there in a minute.

Letting out a whoosh of air you’d been holding, you head down the hall, further away from the heavy bass and the party music. Somewhat hesitantly, you open the door to the room number he gave you. Nothing out of the ordinary. His room wasn’t messy. It was tidy. No sign of books. Just a bunch of sketches and film negatives strewn about on his study desk. Shamelessly, you snoop around, trying to find any evidence that he studies at all. So far, you’d only found an industry grade recording mic, two different types of cameras and some more unused camera reel.

Getting out your notes and the checklist you were going to hand to Jungkook, you get everything ready for when Jungkook arrives. You were not going to let him get away with this. Just another minute later, you can hear the footsteps getting closer. And for a moment, so does your heartbeat. You were quite confident in yourself but there was always a chance that Jungkook was more than a harmless oversexed college boy. All of the very rational fears are thrown out the window, however, as soon as the black mop of hair comes into view. Jungkook was incredibly handsome. Even moreso than his pictures. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him months ago. The long strands of inky black hair fell endearingly in his face, just to the middle of his eyes, parted right in the middle and curling slightly. He wore a long sleeved shirt with hip-hugging jeans that almost made you drool visibly. The saliva was positively pooling in your mouth but you swallowed it quickly to avoid embarrassment.

Now, you were angry. You really were. You needed this assessment finished so you could start on other projects and without Jungkook finishing up his part, there was no way you would have finished yours on time. But you would be a bold faced liar if you didn’t admit that you were oh so tempted to abandon your vendetta and not ride him like a bronco. You could tell that unfortunately, unlike other men who strutted about with empty words - Jungkook would be the best you would have in a while.

And when he smiles, it’s not any easier.

“Hey you.”

“Hi.” Desperately trying to keep your voice even, you smile coyly.

Jungkook locks the door, running a hand through his hair before he stalks towards you. Confident as ever. You bite your lip, baiting him even further before you strike. Just when he gets close enough to you, you hold out an arm to keep him from touching you.

“God, you’re even more sexy in person.”

“Uh-uh, be patient.” He’s blissfully unaware, just smirking in return as he watches your hands roam his chest before going up to his face. Taking a step closer to him, you rake your nails up his neck, leaving little white lines from the scratches.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook.” Jungkook, ever the obedient boy, closes them quickly. Awaiting your next move.

You can’t help yourself when he looks like this. Completely immersed in the feel of your hands. He was a good few inches taller than you but your platformed sneakers made it easier for you to teach him a lesson. His dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, face so relaxed you would think he’s sleeping. You deserved to play a little at least, right? Leaning forward, you stop with the internal rationalising and just make the move.

Your lips meet his in a fiery kiss. His stoic figure melting as soon as your lips lock, hands grabbing at your waist while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Jungkook is moaning in the kiss like he’s taking his first gulp of water after roaming the desserts. Momentarily, you forget your purpose for even being here in the first place. Wrapping your hands in his tempting long tresses and pulling, making even more sweeter noises to spill past his lips. He’s panting and restless. Moving his body against yours like he’ll die without it. Moving him backwards, you push him agains his swivelling study chair that was conveniently faced the right way.

His hands are all over you as soon as he’s down on the chair with your legs straddling his thighs on either side. All you can feel are his lips and his tongue and his hands. All over you, sliding your jacket off your shoulders to travel his kisses down another path. The desperate intake of oxygen is enough to bring your head back in the game, barely. With Jungkook nipping away at the now exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, it’s hard for you to stay focused. Especially when the hard tent in those sinfully tight jeans is now pushing against your softest part. He’s impossibly hard and you’re impossibly soft down there. It’s a lethal combination because neither of you can live without the other being pressed against each other. When you push down on him he pushes his hips up with even more ferocity, moaning louder with every illicit rub of the thickness between his thighs.

You’re addicted to the feeling and not sure how you’ll centre yourself enough to do what you actually came to do. God was really making you eat your words, huh? You were so close to ripping all his clothes off and fucking his brains out. You bet he’ll make the prettiest sounds when you ride him. His whimpers and moans just from gyrating up against you were enough of an indication. Sliding your hands back up in his hair, you yank it back from your neck to see his sweaty, glistening face looking up at you. He looked slightly inebriated. You had tasted the traces of vodka in his kiss but you had a feeling that a lot of his current state had to do with you and not the liquor.

“Jungkook?” He shamelessly rut his hips against yours, not fully hearing you, lost in his own lusty haze.

“Yeah?” Your lips close around the soft cartilage of his earlobe, tugging and flicking with your tongue, illiciting more salacious noises out of him.

“How’s the assignment coming along?” It takes him a few seconds to respond but the urgency with which he was pawing at you has slowed to a halt like a broken down car.

“Huh?” Pulling back completely, you stare him right in his twinkly eyes that look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“The paper you’re writing on modern cinema?”

“How... how do you know about that?” You smile at him sweetly. Before you flick him across his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“I should be saying that you harlot!”

“Harlot? really? You were all over me just now. You are all over me!” You’re surprised he knows the meaning of the medieval insult.

“Don’t try and weasel out of this! I’ve been waiting for your finished part since yesterday!”

“Wait... you’re y/n, y/n?”

“Took you long enough.”

“With your tongue down my throat? I wonder why.” You cannot believe you are arguing with a boy whilst still in his lap with his hands holding on to your waist.

Jungkook is trying his hardest to deflect and make you seem like the desperate one when he had been the one to want to fuck you from the get go. Getting off his lap, you fix your dress, tugging it down a little since the assault from Jungkook had almost bared your ass. Jungkook is still sitting in his study chair, dumbfounded.

“Finish your part of the discussion Jungkook. I have to write the conclusion and submit the paper.”

He is still staring. And now your eyes are travelling down to his thighs. Particularly the large bulge a little further up. A very substantial bulge that makes your mouth water once more.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, what? I just had a dream that a crazy girl tried to get me to do my homework right before we were going to fuck.”

“Listen here you little shit,” You grab Jungkook’s chin, gently despite his theatrical reactions, tilting it up to look you in the eyes. His reactions are so comical you almost laugh. “I’ve worked too hard for you to just give me piss poor, last minute effort. I’m here until you finish it.”

“You cannot be serious.” Letting go of his chin, you step back, folding your arms against your chest for good measure. Raising an eyebrow for him to challenge you.

“You expect me to write a thousand something words with this,” He points between his legs, you roll your eyes, “still here? No way.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” So pretty. But he didn’t need to know that. You swivel his chair around back to face his desk.

“Less talk and more work!”

“Y/n, you can’t- can’t make me!” He’s throwing his hands around like a child and it’s a little too cute for an annoying boy like him who’s put you through so much anxiety. Sitting on his bed, swinging your legs as your eyes look around at the paintings, you let him huff and puff.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’ll have to call the cops because of the weed you have.”

His nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t have any weed.”

“But I do. Who will they believe?” His eyes widen once more as he realises what you’re saying.

“Are you seriously blackmailing me?” You nod, smiling brightly. Jungkook turns back around, head in his hands as he mutters to himself how his tinder hookups are always crazy.

“Hey! I wouldn’t be here if you did your work! or replied to any of my messages.”

“Um, I was going too? I was busy.”

“Taking vodka shots? Yeah I could tell.” The mention of the kiss is bringing a rosy flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. Such an uncharacteristic reaction for a guy with his looks and his confidence.

He was that much more appealing to you because of how he contradicted his own personality. You knew he was one of those boys who acted all tough but secretly wanted to be bossed around. Told to do this and that. Made uncomfortable and maybe slightly humiliated. They lived to please. And the way Jungkook had melted into your body almost as if asking for guidance earlier, you knew he was exactly like that. He may not even know it yet but you could have him in the palm of your hands in a matter of minutes.

“What do I get in return?” He’s still grunting his disapproval, but looking through the notes you put on his desk anyway.

“A good grade and a life longer than 22?”

“You’re crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to be quiet and work!” He pouts at you before quietly looking through the notes and logging into his laptop.

When you’re satisfied he’s actually working, you lay down on his bed, making yourself comfortable knowing that it will take him at least an hour to finish his part. You had practically handed him all the points, he just had to write his own opinion and synthesise the evidence you had collected. The part of discussion required each student in the group’s own thoughts and thus you couldn’t just make them up on Jungkook’s behalf. Nor did you want to. You were done doing two people’s work back in your freshman year. These were advanced level classes and you weren’t going to ruin your grade because of one person.

Thirty minutes later, you’re almost about to doze off when you see Jungkook getting up from his chair in your periphery. Sitting up in a flash - though a little dizzy - you point an accusatory finger at Jungkook. Said boy has stopped mid-standing up.

“Don’t you dare Jeon! Get back in that chair and finish your work.”

“Jesus.” He’s holding his head in his hands once more before he starts whining again. “Y/n, please. Can’t I just do this tomorrow and send it to you then?”

You think about it. You do. “And have you go off the face of the planet again? No way.”

“Please.” He drags out the syllables, pouting and blinking up at you and it almost works.

“No. Not a chance. Just finish it ASAP and I’ll edit it. But finish writing it. The sooner you’re done the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glares at you. And not the scary, tough man glare that might make you slightly nervous and fidgety that you’re getting on his nerves. It’s a glare a kid gives you when you tell them no more TV or no more xbox. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen Jungkook do tonight. Or maybe you’re just sleep deprived. Either way, you wanted to kiss the hell out of him. But you turn your head away, faux annoyance ebbed into your features as you wait for him to start writing again.

It works for another half hour, Jungkook now actually typing more than he’s complaining. It was only a thousand words that he had to write but there was a lot of information that needed to be condensed in those thousand words which meant he was typing and then deleting, repeating the process again and again until he looked to be halfway through. You were impressed at how much he was getting done. Maybe it was your watchful gaze that was making him perform at his peak. You were now just hoping that whatever he wrote was actually plausible and not just rubbish to get you out of his room.

“I can’t believe you’re making me work with a boner. You could’ve at least gotten me off.” His pout his still there as he types casually.

“Stop being a brat and keep working.”

“Yeah? You’re going to make me write lines? ‘I am a brat’.” He chuckles to himself like he’s burnt you to a crisp with that one comment.

Taking your hand off of your face, you sit up. You watch the way his biceps bulge under his shirt as he types away at his laptop, legs splayed wide under his desk as he supported a semi. It was still a sizeable dent but nowhere near as daunting looking as before. But none of that diminishes your desire for him. You watch him talk to himself quietly as he types, but now stuck somewhere as he types and deletes and then types a sentence again.

You’re not sure what sets it off. Maybe it’s your frustration or that you think he owes you something more than just this. Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting? There are a lot of reasons you can use to justify your serious and formidable attraction to him. But you cannot deny that it was him from the get go. Just him in all his submissive glory that made you attracted to him. And that attraction was now getting the best of you. Maybe it was time to torture him in another way.

“No. I’ll do something much more to your liking.”

His head turns back around fast, fingers halting at his keyboard while he inspects the drunken look in your eyes. Slowly, you spread your legs, hands bracing yourself as they clutch the sheets on either side of you. Your heart is racing at the look in his own eyes. Primal and needy.

“Get on your knees Jungkook.” His chest is rising and falling much quicker than yours. Like he’s holding himself back.

You patiently wait for him to listen to your instructions, watching him. Never breaking eye contact. You know it’s new to him. It’s too obvious for you to deny it. But you relish the look of surprise every time you say something he doesn’t expect. Slowly, get’s up from his chair. Never taking a step further as he drops to his knees, crawling forwards until he’s right infant of you. The room is not that big at all so it doesn’t take him long. Now, his wide, doe eyes look at you. Inquisitive and aroused and it turns you on even more. He’s all man with hard ridges and bulging muscles but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like at the centre of his world.

“Are... are you going to- to make me eat your pussy?” the explicit question sends your nerve endings on fire.

You’re a second away from grabbing his hair and shoving him right between your legs but the way his soft mouth says the dirty words - it makes you feel a very different kind of way. Now it’s you who can’t stop staring at him. Thinking about what else he has up his sleeves. You expected him to be vocal but never this. He is bold and shy all at the same time.

“Would you like that, Jungkook?” His eyes drop between your legs again, watching the way your panties cling to your increasingly wet folds.

Jungkook is moving between your legs more, eagerly nodding so the strands of his fringe rustle up and down in his face. His arms are going under your thighs, gropping them for good measure before he looks up at you with those eyes again.

“Please.” He’s almost whispering, longing lacing his every word. “Please, y/n. Please let me taste you. ‘wanna taste you.”

His words have turned into pleas and the pleas turn into kisses alongside your inner thighs and then any place Jungkook can get his lips and tongue on. Everything else is forgotten. It’s just you laying on his bed while Jungkook tries to get a taste of you anyway he can. His lips travel up to your covered mound, never daring to move the piece of fabric holding him back from his destination. Opting to only kiss over it, lick his way up your clit through the thin cotton that’s now moulding to your swollen folds.

“Do- do you deserve it, Jungkook? For putting me through so much h-headache? Oh.” Your moans accompany almost every word. Fingers laced into Jungkook’s luscious hair as he continues his hurried tasting of your arousal.

His response is mumbled between your legs. You watch his veiny hands repeatedly grab at the flesh of your thighs. Kneading it desperately like he’s trying to distract himself from doing something else entirely. A yelp leaves his mouth at your tug on his hair. Pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks like an addict when he is looking at you like you’re giving him his fix and God, you want to kiss his swollen lips.

“Answer me, brat. Do you deserve anything from me?”

“N-No.”

“Right. Yet you’re still begging to taste me like the needy little slut you are. Hm?”

Jungkook is whimpering, his lids fluttering. He doesn’t expect the smack across his face, a little too hard for what you had originally aimed for. The surprise is evident and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to be upset. Instead, his breathing is picking up even further.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-Yes... Noona.” The breath is almost sucked out of you at his timid tone. And it only makes you want to push him further.

“Good boy.” His eyes are lighting up at the praise like hundreds of little galaxies called them home.

Sliding down towards the edge of the bed, you let your legs hang off, letting your toes touch the floor. Jungkook is still on his knees, watching you manoeuvre yourself around his bed before you reach for the hem of your dress. Watching his every facial expression as you strip. He looks up at you wide-eyed, taking in your soaked underwear and the thin black bra where your nipples pointed right at him. You can see his hands twitch by his side. You’d pushed them off you when you’d changed your position and were surprised at how calm and obedient Jungkook was being. Contrast to how much of an argumentative brat he was. But you had a sneaking feeling that he liked it when you called him that.

You were trying to remain calm yourself. Not give too much away on the dilemma you held inside your head. Thinking if you should take this any further. Though it was a little too late now, you guess. You were practically naked, wetter than ever before as Jungkook watched you with his wide doe eyes. Hunger evident with every flit of his gaze. You would feel cruel if you stopped at this point. So you let the rational part of your brain take a backseat and letting the consequences of tonight berate you in the morning after. Sliding your palms down your stomach, straight inside your soaked panties, you stroke yourself ever so slowly. Holding his heated gaze with cloudy eyes.

“Noona...” It sends another jolt of arousal throughout your already overheated body. He’s biting his plump bottom lip, sliding his hand up and down carelessly on to his erection that had grown considerably in the past fifteen minutes. Jungkook looks like the embodiment of desperation and it makes you rub yourself a little faster. Every time your fingers come in contact with your sensitised clit, you bite the urge to buck your hips brazenly.

“Yeah, baby? You want to see?” You hold out your wet fingers to him and in a flash, you feel his warm mouth around your digits. He moans loudly like he’s been relieved after years of drought.

“M-More. Please, Noona. I’ll do anything please, please.” Now that didn’t take long. Chuckling at his agonised face, you throw your head back, enjoying the relief your own fingers brought.

But you were torturing yourself too at this point. You wanted to replace your small fingers with Jungkook’s bigger and more vascular hands. You remember the view of his body from the glorified hookup app. Knew what he was hiding under the baggy shirt. The sweet whimpers and ‘please’ sounds coming from him were a delicacy on their own.

“Take my panties off then. With your mouth. Don’t use your hands... or else.” Your tone is stern enough to give you that satisfying flash going through his eyes.

In seconds, he’s leaning forward on his hands and knees, eyes never leaving yours as he bites the cotton on your hips, dragging it down. The act itself is a little clumsy. In his haste, Jungkook is taking twice as long should he use his hands. But something about his complete compliance, his willingness to be accepted by you and his utter devotion to pleasing you is the ultimately your undoing. This may be a power trip but you were thoroughly getting ruined during it.

At last, the cotton has reached your ankles. Quickly, you shrug off your dress as well, completely naked. He’s placed small kisses in greetings before he takes them off completely. Out of breath and out of his mind. The glazed look has taken a permanent vacation in his eyes and you were getting high on it. Jungkook was a communicator. If it wasn’t his mouth relaying the naughty words to you then his eyes were holding yours hostage, smouldering.

Bracing your hands behind yourself and never breaking away from his eyes, your ankles part. Jungkook’s eyes are automatically falling on the mess between your legs but he doesn’t dare move. Awaiting your instructions. Jerking your chin towards his general direction, you silently bring his attention back to his overly dressed self.

“Lose the pants.” His hands make fast work of his jeans. Falling back on to the ground to push them off.

“Uh-uh. Keep them on.” His eyes widen at your command to keep the underwear on. You weren’t about to just let him have it.

Not yet.

“Noona...” The high pitched noise of protest only makes your nostrils flare. You wanted to live out your every dirty fantasy with him if he sounded this sweet with just watching. The desire was making your head spin and your palms sweat.

“Yeah?”

“Please... I’ll do anything.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he kneels infant of you.

“I’ll eat you out for hours, let you sit on me face until I can’t breathe. Let you ride my tongue until you can’t cum anymore. Just please... fuck me.” The last two words leave him in such agony that for a second it truly sounds like he’s in pain.

Which is ridiculous given the ted talk he just gave on the Perfect Words To Say to Ruin Y/N and Her Panties. You’re the one currently in pain from clenching your jaw so tight. Resolve like a skinny rubber band about to snap. Dirty talk was the chink in your armour. And by the way Jungkook’s face lit up and his words became a lot more sure and confident, you knew that he was weaponising his skill to control you fully. And you needed to put him in his place before you gave up your pride and rode him until you ran out of stamina or died from your body overheating. Whichever happened first.

“Get up.”

“Fuck yes-“ Jungkook’s blubbering about how you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen and that he knows he can blow your mind while you push him back on the bed and straddle his meaty thighs. When he begins to push down your panties, you push his hands off and rest them on his sides.

“Keep them there or you won’t be coming. Understood?”

His curls bounce around his face as he nods, chest heaving when he looks at your hips move over the biggest bulge you’ve felt under you. You would’ve thought that he’d stuffed his underwear with socks if you couldn’t feel the burning heat his cock was pressing in to you, even through his boxers. Each roll of your hips pressed him to your every crevice like two puzzle pieces fitting in to complete the picture.

“Oh fuck-... You feel so good noona. I-I’m going to cum if you keep going.” He’s resorted to use his hands at his sides to push him upwards, pressing himself with every gyrate of your hips downward on him.

“Yeah? you’re gunna cum from just this? Is noona making you feel really good?”

Jungkook is lost in soaking up every sensation like a drunkard. Gaze not leaving where your hips met. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration as he thrust his hips up, rocking you off balance slightly. Your hands slide into his sweaty curls, pulling them hard enough to yank his beautiful face up and close to your own.

“Answer me what I ask you a question.” And he whines. Or moans. Nevertheless it’s a lethal mixture of the two and you’re about to kiss him senseless.

“Yes. I-I feel really good. Noona is- oh fuck- g-gunna make me cum.”

“And are you going to?” He looks up at you nervously, trying to speaking amidst every roll of your flaming core onto his dick. It was getting harder and harder for you to speak as well.

“N-No?”

“Good. Because only good boys get to cum. Not needy sluts like you.”

Now Jungkook whimpers like a wounded animal. Because you’ve upped the ante. Holding onto his shoulders while you grind down on his throbbing cock just the right angle so your clit is receiving the mind-numbingly pleasurable stimulation. You were going to cum any minute and it looked as if he was too.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to cum Jungkook. Your cock feels so good.”

“Noona please. Please s-stop. I-I’m going to cum-“

“That’s not my fucking problem. If you want me to fuck you then you better not. Understood?”

He looks utterly panicked. Torn between letting himself go to the unbelievable pleasure of this act alone and wanting to hold back and obey your every command. Jungkook’s lip is bitten red, chest heaving and eyes watering as he watches the erotic sight of your brazen bouncing on his lap. You’re putting on a show just to make it that much more difficult for him to hold back. But he somehow does. Watching your face contort with pleasure as your head is thrown back. Your moans are loud and lewd. Designed just to rile him up to the point of breaking.

“Oh god. I’m- I’m gunna cum baby.” With a shout, you’re riding out wave after wave of the liquid pleasure running through your veins like molten gold.

It takes a solid minute for your eyes to focus on a singular object. Or a person. More specifically, an incredibly handsome, glistening, starry eyed, muscular, put-micheal-angelo’s-david-to-shame, strikingly adorable man. Jungkook looked on the verge of losing his sanity. Yet, he didn’t stop watching you collect yourself, flicking the stray strands over your shoulder before you pressed your mouth to his.

You brought your mouth to his and kissed him hungrily. When your lips met, you heard him make a tiny sound. His body went rigid, and he wasn’t reciprocating. You think it might have been down to shock, though, because when your tongue slid past the seam of his lips, he opened them willingly and trembled against you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, and he pulls you closer. You were on fire, felt like you were melting into him. Never before had a single kiss gotten you so worked up. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Jungkook rocked forward, and then you felt his tongue move expertly against yours. Of its own accord, a groan emanated from deep in your chest. When he brought his hands to your neck and massaged your throat, you whimper. He was hard as a rock and you finally wanted to reward him for holding out this long.

He’s chasing your lips when you break away, sliding his kisses down your neck as if breaking the contact will be fatal for him. “You did so good baby. Such a good boy.”

The praise seems to rejuvenate his body. Not that he needed to. He was bursting at the seems with testosterone. The longer he went on without a release, the more unhinged Jungkook seemed. The incongruence of his raw masculinity with his alarmingly meek behaviour towards you was something you didn’t understand but it affected you the most. He surprised you with every move and you wanted nothing more than to own him completely.

Jungkook makes a noise in his throat at the praise, sliding his hands down to caress the globes of your ass. “I’ve been a good boy. Now fuck me.”

His words are steady, deliberate and to the point. Scratch everything you said about Jungkook being meek. They send shudders down your spine where his hands reside. This was a man who looked on the verge of tearing something apart. And judging from the current situation, he was going to be tearing you apart. You’d let him, gladly. But being the cocktease you are- you push him even more.

“And if I don’t, little boy? Gunna beg?” A heartbeat later, you’re the one on the soft mattress and it’s Jungkook that’s hovering over you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Then I’ll fuck you noona.”

You’re not too mad because you’re wetter than before and the change in his demeanour has you besides yourself with the need to feel him inside. Jungkook’s teeth are tugging on your hardened nipples. Circling them with his tongue before sucking the puffy buds tenderly. The pressure of his suction is so delicious that you might just cum from this.

“God! Jungkook, b-baby please. Fuck your noona.” He grins around a nipple, hands sliding inside your soaked core.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait like you made me. Hm?”

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll stuff your mouth next time with a sock Jeon J- oh fuck!”

He’d slid down your body, his kissing every inch. Your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs.

“I’d rather it be your pussy.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your wetness, and then licked.

“Ahhh,” you cried out, clutching a handful of his hair. Jungkook chuckled and went at you in earnest. You were so soft and silky beneath his tongue. He met your gaze from below and came up for air. Jungkook watched you for a second before dipping his wet mouth lower again. The noises of your arousal pornographic. He saw you fist the sheets in your hands, your hips rising up off the bed when he sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He added some fingers to the equation, savoring the hot, tight feel of you.

“Please,” you murmured. “More.”

So he gave you more. He gave you everything. Before he knew it, you were touching your breasts, pinching your nipples as he devoured you, and you swear you could have come from the sight of Jungkook between your legs alone. he was simply glorious. Your voice was starting to get hoarse. Getting close to the edge before Jungkook ripped his mouth away.

“No! Jungkook, please.” You’re frustrated and angry and horny that he would do that. Even if you did the same thing to him.

He was testing you once again but the raw need in his eyes told you that you were testing him too.

“I’ll fuck you now noona. Nice and good. You want this cock right?” He’s holding his straining erection heavily, sliding down his boxers to discard them besides his bed.

You moan out your answer, opening your legs wide in invitation.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking. His eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin on his face. You almost get up to kiss him because he looked so fucking adorable and hot and sexy at the same time.

Thankfully - or not? - he’s pulling you to the edge of the bed and in seconds, he has pulled you close to his chest. He circles the engorged head of him in your slit before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust. The sheer girth of him has you yelping, needing to adjust to the length of him as well. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you the courtesy of that.

His legs are spread in a powerful stance as his hands grip your legs from behind the knees. And then he’s thrusting. He’s fucking into you so deep, you can feel him in your throat. You must look like a fish at this very moment with your mouth opening and closing without any real sound. He feels hot and thick, like molten lava in your veins. you’re finally finding your voice when angles his hips slightly to the left - biting a spot that has you blinking up at the ceiling full of stars.

“Jungkook! Oh god. Oh f-fuck. You’re so good baby. S-So good.”

“Yeah? You like how deep I am in your pussy? Answer me noona.” He’s quickening his pace, snapping his hips punishingly making you release a guttural scream.

“I love it. So much.”

You watch the sweat drip off his forehead, the dimples in his cheek now very prominent as his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He’s a sight you want to imprint on the back of your eyelids. You can see his lose his resolve, the creases in his forehead slowly deepening as the pleasure becomes too much for him.

“God you feel so wet and tight n-noona. You look so hot when you cum. I w-wanna make you squirt.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his admissions. It seems like he’s lost all his filter, chasing the mind numbing pleasure he felt earlier. His words are bringing you even closer to the edge and your throat now begs for relief when you let out another yell as he pushes you up the bed while still fully seated inside you.

“I’m gunna cum noona. I j-just need to... to- I don’t. I don’t wanna h-hurt you-“ His sweet face is contorted with worry, still thrusting steadily. You finally understand his point after a few seconds. Taking you twice as long to comprehend anything with the plethora of feelings your body was feeling right now.

Cupping his face, you told yours upwards to place a small kiss on his wet lips. “It’s okay baby. You won’t break me. Just let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he stares in yours for a moment too long because your heart is doing summersaults, heading straight for your mouth. Too much emotion crammed into his big eyes and you just wanted to strangely hug him close to your chest. This day has been strange enough - so you do. You Pull Jungkook close to you. His face tucks itself in the crevice of your neck, whining and moaning. His breath tickles and sends shivers down your spine. And then he circles his hips against yours.

From the hard and deep fucking, Jungkook circles his hips into yours. Slowly at first, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in just the right way before he speeds up. His hands find their way down your back again, pushing your hips up into his own, making your centres feel everything. You can feel him in every fold of your core and it’s all too much.

“Oh god.” Your hands scratching down his back, head tilted back, legs closing around his waist tightly.

“That’s it noona. Cum for me. Please, please. ‘Wanna feel you around my cock. ‘Wanna feel y-your cunt devour me. Cum.”

You scream so loud that you can hear a ringing in your ears. Vision flashing white as the indescribable pleasure starts in the pit of your stomach and coarse through your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s all consuming and breathtaking. Unexpected.

“I-I can’t hold it anymore. Can I-“ You’re unable to speak.

Still reeling from your orgasm, twitching from the sensitivity, but you nod anyway. You wanted Jungkook to let go inside of you. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He was incredibly ethereal atop you. You wanted to see him come undone. And Jungkook was too far gone to think twice before hitching one of your legs up, the other arm grabbing the headboard as he thrust up inside you once again.

“Fuck, yes. God, you’re so good you’re so good. I could fuck you forever noona.”

His eyes are watering, tucking his face back into your neck again before he pistons his hips against yours rhythmically. The only sounds in the room being the tacky noise of skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch from the steady arousal leaking between you both. You’re so delirious from the mix of pleasure and the deliciously addicting pain. AT some point, you’ve stopped screaming and only whimpers leave past your lips, legs falling lax around Jungkook and hands fisting the sheets.

“Cum Jungkook. P-Please baby. Cum for n-noona.”

“‘gunna cum. Am I good noona? your good boy?”

“You’re the best Jungkookie. Cum for your noona.”

“Fuck! Y/n, f-fuck.” He’s shouting something you can’t properly hear because of the ringing in your ears from your own release. Filling you with his hot release. The intense pressure that had been building between you has snapped the frail rubber band in your stomach again. And seems like Jungkook’s had too.

Moments pass, both of you trying to suck in air like it’s the last supply available. Then, Jungkook’s flushed face appears in front of yours with his signature cheeky smirk. He’s glowing.

“You squirted.”

“Shut up!” Your ears must be the shade of a tomato now as you swat his back for the comment. He lays besides you, cuddling up to your side with his leg laying on top of yours. Clinging to you like a koala and it’s too damn adorable. Damn it.

“It was hot. You’re amazing.” Your heart flutters a little too violently at that and you have to suck in another breathe, pulling the sheets off of him and completely bundling them on you.

“Hey!”

“Hm? You’re going to finish that assessment.” You grin innocently at him and try your hardest to not start howling with laughter when you can see his face fall almost in slow motion.

“Are you serious?” You just sent him a kiss before settling in his bed for maybe a 12 hour nap. Just a tiny nap.

“Noona!”

“I’ll give you head when you’re done. Be a good boy.”

With the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man, you watch Jungkook pull up his boxers, stomping away to his study desk.

“Wake me up when you’re done Jungkookie.” Your sweet tone does little to get the pout off his face but he does smile the whole time he’s typing.

Of course, not that he let you see that

a/n: liked it? hated it? let me know!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #hope u like it!!!

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kamari333 · 4 years ago

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Got tagged by @starsgivemehp for this meme!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I'll go backwards from last update, if thats okay? First paragraph of each first chapter...

mind the tags and be responsible <3

iNVaDeR FeLL: The Nightmare Begins :: The Irken Empire (which had retained its name even after the shift in management brought about by the events of Operation Impending Doom I) was more alive than it had been in years. Signs replayed message after message redirecting convention-goers how and where to attend the Great Assigning in the Main Convention Hall on Conventia, one of the many planets conquered and repurposed for the good of the Empire. The teleporter ring was blazing almost as brightly as it once did before OID1, only this time, it brought to the surface not Irkens, but Monsters; creatures of every shape and size. They came not only from the 'kingdom' that had overtaken Irk (they called themselves 'Fell'), but those from the 'kingdoms' of conquered worlds as well, which had been expeditiously subjugated in a fashion worthy of the Irken Empire.

How Dance Got a Picture of Lust Covered in Kittens :: "there's sammaches in th' fridge," Red mumbled, feeling the lunchbox lid click shut under his claws. "'r if ya want some'n lighter, there's soup in th' freezer. just gotta nuke it..."

Burlesque Noir :: Lust peeked around the curtain to look out at the crowd, as he had done so many times before the last few days. The speakeasy was full and vibrant and alive as it was every night, as swanky a joint as Grillby could make it and still keep it safe. As packed as it was, however, Lust didn't see any sign of his favorite patron.

It Could be Worse :: Life... Could be worse.

An Anthology of Dreams :: Sans was at his desk, as always, analyzing his latest attempt at a synthetic soul compound. His last two-thousand-and-twenty trials had been devastating failures, but even Dr Gaster was intrigued by his steady progress.

The EMV Anthology :: Red had a love-hate relationship with the holiday season.

An Anthology of Nightmares :: Sans stumbled out of his room just in time to escape. He had no idea what was coming, he only knew his years of fighting for his life underground was screaming that he had to move his bony ass if he wanted to live. Just as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom into the hallway, there was a loud crash. When he looked back, his whole room was gone.

A Growing Future :: Red stumbled out of the house, squinting at the glare of sunrise peaking like a glinting knife over the neighbor's rooftops. The air had a crisp chill to it, made all the more shocking by his lack of a shirt, but he knew it would be overly warm in only a few hours, and there was a lot of work to do.

Kinktober 2020 : Kamari333 Edition :: HI FOLKS! Beyond this point you will find 72.5k words of pure, unadulterated, self indulgent, Undertail-themed SIN, ~57.7k of which was prewritten in September, the rest in October, all written and published for Kinktober2020. This year, due to conflicting schedules, the sin was written in September, to be published on time in October. Please note that there may be plenty of typos, although I will/have since gone back and fixed some of them since I'm garbage and read my own stuff, and this year I have been indulging in the use of my lovely betas!

A Night in the Woods :: Red bit back a curse as he once again had to detangle his phalanges from the flimsy tent material. Stupid-ass cheap plastic bullshit, so thin he could breathe on it wrong and watch it disintegrate, but the packaging said it somehow kept out wind and rain, and that was honestly all he could have asked for. That, and perhaps that the piece of shit stop snagging on his claws every five god damn mother fucking seconds, fuck-

Arum :: The room was pitch black, save for a nearly indiscernible ambiance that glowed low and dim like the twilight right before the true darkness of night. The walls and floor of the room oozed with a viscous substance that stank of fermentation and rubber. At the end of the room, upon a throne of black stone, sat a diminutive figure from whence the slime seemed to originate, itself drenched in it to the point of blackness save for the singular glow of one lavender eyelight, shining like poison in the darkness.

Poignance :: Sans Blueberry pulled on his modified gloves, rolling his shoulders to make sure his makeshift pauldrons were cinched tight enough. The scalemail he wore under his chestplate made a soft noise, not quite the clink of chainmail, but not quite the hiss of cloth or leather either. He fingered at the tiny plates over his torso before pulling his bandanna back on around his neck, grateful to Alphys again for donating her sheds, and Undyne for reinforcing them so they wouldn't turn to dust.

Those Feelings at the Bottom of a Bottle :: Ink carefully managed his supply of emotions, keeping his usual level of orange (excitement) and yellow (happiness) as he made his way back through the house. The crowd of people, with their ever-vivid colors and gold-glittered eyes, made it easy to blend in and keep himself inconspicuous to the ever watchful guardian. It was like a game of hide-and-seek: Ink hid, and Dream looked for anything potentially amiss.

A Skeleton Plague Doctor in Lord Dream's Court :: Falsi woke up from a restful sleep on his examination table, shifting under his thick black blanket (one of the few luxuries he was allowed, usually kept hidden away in his bedroom with all the other small luxuries he had managed to keep, like his collection of skulls, his beast fur pelt, his mask, and the tapes and videos of a more personal nature he had collected over the years). He slid down to the floor, thankful once again for the mercy of a windowless apartment, as he folded his blanket and stumbled into the adjacent room: his bedroom.

Bad Day :: Edge was used to getting ominous messages from Red at odd times. It was just the nature of any relationship Red was involved in.

Burlesque (Censored) & (Uncensored) :: Of all the bars Red frequented in Ebott City, this was his favorite.

Happily Ever Laughter :: It was almost midnight. Papyrus had been sitting at Muffet's bar, enjoying his third (or was it fourth? Fifth? Hard to say) glass of Spider Cider, when he got the call. He pulled out his phone, surprised. That was his brother's ringtone. He flipped it open. "heya, bro. wazzup?"

Egg on Arrival :: Slinky could feel it in his bones: the hum of his future, the tremble of his soul. Even if it was still cold as balls outside the nest, his internal clock said it was spring.

I think I'm Paranoid :: Red came back into the livingroom, popcorn in one hand and a six-pack of coke in the other. He lingered, taking in the scene in front of him.

Another Me :: Lust fiddled with the TV remote idly as he mentally went through the available channels in his head. He didn't dare cable surf, not when He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was so prominent, and Pink's relentless job searching made his schedule so erratic that he could show up at any minute. The sight of the blackout curtain over the bookshelf (which served as the house's movie collection's honored display) reminded him of how understanding Papyrus had been of the need for temporary censorship.

...oh my some of these are terrible for catching the readers attention XD (why are all my hooks like 3 paragraphs in gdi).

EDIT: i forgot to tag folks! um... @deku-lily @silverryu25 @bonerpuns @msmkcreates @jellyficsnfucks @jellyfish-swims-through-gold @tkwolf45 @nanenna @dana-chan325 @skerbaderbadoo @keelywolfe ...im terrible with names and can't remember anyone else's handles ;-;

#kamari333thoughts #kamari333fanfiction #invader fell #burlesque *ship #burlesque noir #ebott is a multiverse #it could be worse #thats just the fic name #dr33mtal3 #kinktober mention #is this nsfw?#burlesque *fic #aint this more than lust #aint this a lamia

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moeyy-writes · 4 years ago

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Here and Now - Part 6

Zak Bagans x Reader

Warnings: Playful teasing/pranking, fluff, brief hint at sexual acts (if you squint).

Word Count: 1,897

Series Master List || My Full Master List

Rage boiled through your veins as your stared at the flashy pink glitter on the floor. Your eyes moved along the shiny nuisance, following it to the river of red and pink heart-shaped confetti that led into the rest of your home. More hearts littered the walls, poorly-cut pieces of paper with love quotes, and red and pink streamers criss-crossed overhead. As you took a step in, you heard music playing from a back room, most likely from your television.

“It’s like… Valentine’s Day threw up in here,” you mumbled as you slowly stepped towards the living room. The confetti faded into another substance, deeper red. “Rose petals? Really Goodwin?”

You phone buzzed in your pocket, jolting you from your rage-filled cloud. It was Jay.

(9:45pm) Jay: I’m just glad you had fun.

You stared down at the text. There was no doubt this was Aaron’s work, no one else would go this far out. But, how did he get in? The only person other than you who had a key to your place was…

Jay.

You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh. Sure, betrayal stung, but karma was a bitch.

(9:47pm) Y/N: I want my key back, and I hate you.

(9:48pm) Jay: ????

(9:48pm) Y/N: You know.

You snapped a picture of the carnage and sent it to Jay with several angry face emojis. For several minutes, he didn’t answer. Figures. He knew what he did, or at least what he allowed to happen.

You let out another long sigh. This was going to be a bitch to clean up. But, you thought Zak might get a kick out of it. So, you sent him several photos, hoping to at least get a laugh out of this catastrophe.

“Hey, I can’t lie, he did go all out,” Zak admitted as he laughed. You stood your tablet up in front you as you munched on your breakfast. You were happy to have a surprise breakfast with Zak, even if it was virtually. He was gradually getting ready to spend his day with his mom, which made you smile inside.

“Yeah, he did, but now I have to buy a new vacuum. That glitter ruined my brand new one! One hundred dollars down the freaking drain,” you whined. You took a bite of your oatmeal, then leaned back in your chair. “And I don’t know how that asshole passed kindergarten. I’ve never seen more lop-sided hearts in my life!”

Zak’s nose scrunched as he laughed. “Yeah, paper art isn’t exactly his thing. Or, he did it on purpose knowing you would notice and it would piss you off that much more.” You rolled your eyes. Knowing Aaron’s actual incredible artistic talent, Zak was probably right.

“Well, I’m out a vacuum. And, I’ll probably have to disclose that there is a never-ending glitter infestation when I sell this place.” Zak’s face froze at your words.

“Wait, you’re selling the place?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Uh, not right now, but I’m sure I won’t live here forever. Or, maybe I will. I don’t know.” The air around you felt heavy for a moment, but Zak’s laughter broke the silence.

“I still can’t believe Aaron trashed your place like that. I mean, I have to give it to him, it’s pretty well done. Although, the glitter is pretty fucking cruel.” Zak grinned, making your heart skip. God, he was handsome, and funny, and just, well, everything you were looking for.

And, now, everything was really sinking in. The man on the screen was the man you were dating, Zak Bagans, the man you never thought you’d have a chance with until a few days ago. You were still pinching yourself.

“Yeah, glitter is the bane of me existence—” your phone buzzed beside you, cutting you off. You rolled your eyes at the name on the screen. “Speak of the devil. I never texted him last night, so he’s probably wondering if his ‘brilliant’ plan worked.”

Zak chuckled again, slipping his glasses on. “Well, I’ll leave it to you to rip him a new one. I’ve got to get over to my mom’s pretty soon.” You nodded and shook your phone.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already planning my payback.”

Zak leaned his head back as he cackled. “Well, if you need an accomplice, let me know.” You raised your brow. “It would only be fair. You know, since Jay was obviously in on it.”

“Oh? Have you chosen a side?” You giggled, taking a sip of coffee.

“I may have picked a side. Or, maybe I’m a double agent.” He winked, but you just narrowed your gaze.

“Traitor.” You laughed with Zak, admiring his gravelly laugh.

“Alright, well, I’ll text you later, okay? Have a great day, beautiful.” Your heart nearly burst out of your chest. But, you held it together with a smile, and nodded.

“Have fun, handsome. Say ‘hi’ to you mom for me.” Zak nodded, then blew you a kiss before signing off.

You sat in your chair for a second, allowing your mind to settle. Then, you picked up for phone, ready to rip Aaron a new asshole.

You glanced down at your phone. 1 New Text Message: Aar Bear

(10:03am) Aaron: How was your date, Lovebird? Did you make it home? ;)

(10:08am) Y/N: Oh, yeah. I made it home just fine. I had a blast yesterday. :) Oh, by the way, I fucking hate you.

(10:10am) Aaron: What? Why would you say something like that? I’m one of your best friends!

(10:11am) Y/N: Well, first of all, you owe me a new vacuum. That glitter completely fucking ruined it. Oh, and you aren’t allowed at my place ever again. Oh, and I know you had help. All threats will be neutralized.

(10:13am) Aaron: Uh, oh. We’ve been had. xD

(10:14am) Y/N: Karma’s a bitch, Goodwin. Watch your back.

*Two days later*

Packing for an investigation was something that took you days to finish. Sure, it was only three or four nights from home, but it wasn’t anything like packing for a vacation. You obviously needed clothes and toiletries. But, you also needed your gear.

You slipped your laptop into its case and stood it next to your open suitcase. Then, you grabbed your still camera, an extra memory card, several rechargeable batteries, and your share of video cameras. The fact that your equipment suitcase was twice as big as your clothing suitcase never failed to make you laugh.

It was important to make sure every piece was properly charged and working properly. So, you followed the routine that Jay had taught you when you first started. You took a couple of shots with your still camera, which worked perfectly, then placed it into the protective pouch in your suitcase. Next, you tried out your video camera, testing a good minute of video, then placing it in its spot.

A knock at the door spooked you, nearly making you drop one of you night-vision cameras. Ah, they were early. You launched from the floor and shuffled over to the front door.

The crew all decided that it would be a good idea to meet the day before you left, as usual, to make sure there was a game plan for departure and for the first day of the investigation. So, Billy, Aaron, Jay, and Zak were all going to meet at your place to go over what needed to happen. Of course, that meant actually letting Aaron and Jay back into your home, which you promised you wouldn’t do until you got then back for their stunt. But, if you played it cool, you could get them back when they least expected it.

However, the timing worked perfectly, because your date with Zak would start after everyone left.

You opened the door, where you greeted Zak. He lived the closest to you, so you weren’t surprised he got there first, and twenty minutes early.

“Hey, you,” you greeted with a smile. Zak stepped inside, lugging two small suitcases of equipment. They obviously weren’t his clothing suitcases, yes plural. He had two, and each were twice the size of yours.

“Good morning, or I guess afternoon—” He stared down at his fancy watch. It was ten minutes passed noon, and your stomach was telling you it was almost lunch time.

“Just chuck those into my office. That’s where the rest of my equipment is right now. Do you want anything to drink? I was thinking about ordering lunch for everyone in a few minutes. I don’t have a lot of food around since we’re leaving tomorrow.” Something about having Zak in your home felt so natural. Sure, the guys liked to meet at your place and drop off the equipment with you the day before leaving. You were, after all, they main AV tech now, and all of the equipment should be in one spot where you can triple check it all before you left.

“Nah, I’m good gorgeous. When are the guys gonna be here?” Zak asked. You tilted your head.

“I told everyone, including you, to be here at twelve thirty, but I’m sure Aaron will be here closer to one. You know him.” You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Well, my mom always taught me to be early,” he teased, shooting you a wink. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You shrugged, leading Zak to your office. “I don’t know yet. Billy is going to tell us when he gets here. He always has the master plan.” Zak nodded, approaching you.

Zak placed his stuff beside your equipment bags, then turned to you. He reached out, curling your hair behind your ear, before allowing his hand to rest on your face. His thumb gently stroked your cheekbone.

“You excited for tonight? It’s not going to be as thrilling as our first date, but it will be fun.” You nodded, offering a blushing smile. “Good, me too.”

Zak leaned in and brushed his nose against yours. It was you who closed the distance, gently planting your lips on his. The moment you made contact, Zak hummed and smiled against you. His other arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. Your hands smoothed up his shoulders, then your arms found their place hooked around his neck.

His lips danced with yours, slow and soft. His hot breath tickled your cheeks as he pushed you backwards, stopping when your ass gently met with the edge of your desk. He wasn’t forceful or aggressive, but firm as his fingers curled around the fabric along your back.

“Ah-hem,” you heard a higher pitched voice clear their throat. You and Zak launched from each other and turned toward your office door, where you met the gaze of Billy and Jay. You really needed to get your key back from Jay.

“Uh, hey guys, you’re early.” Zak stared down at his watch again.

“Yeah, sorry if we’re interrupting anything,” Billy teased.

“Good thing we got here before they got too far,” Jay poked. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You caught Zak and me making out. Good for you. Can we just get started please?” You snapped playfully. The guys laughed, including Zak. Then, Billy and Jay tossed their gear onto the floor and plopped down on the floor beside it.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated! <3

#zak bagans #zak bagans x reader #zak x reader #zak bagans x reader series #zak bagans x y/n #zak bagans and reader #zak bagans reader insert #aaron goodwin #jay wasley #billy tolley #ghost adventures

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ais-for-alex · 4 years ago

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The Scars of Our Past: Ch3

Alrighty guys here is chapter 3 of Figure Skater Au

By the time Leo stumbled into his motel room, it felt like the bitter cold air had seeped into his very bones. The moment he passed the threshold, he let his skate bag slip from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud. He then proceeded to fall face-first onto the bed, too exhausted to even change into a pair of sweats. His body ached from the cold and the brutal intensity of his first solo practice in Gryffindor.

Leo had been in the city for nearly a week, most of his days had been spent in group sessions where he met the other skaters also working under Madam Maxine. Today had been the first time he had worked one on one with her, honestly, it was the first time he had worked one on one with a figure skating coach at all.

Back in New Orleans, after the-

Well just after, Leo couldn’t bring himself to gear up and get back in the net but he also couldn’t bring himself to abandon the one place that soothed the hurt inside him. So instead, he stepped out onto the ice in a pair of figure skates, he damn near broke his ass the first time he tripped on the toe pick. From that day though Leo worked, he worked so hard to learn the ins and outs of the figure skating world; he worked until he could execute each jump, each spin perfectly. And so what if he was working to avoid the memories?

Leo entered his first contest as a bit of a joke, the owner of his local rink had told him to do it, so he did. Who was to think that he would actually win? And standing there in the center of the rink with people tossing flowers on the ice for him, Leo was hooked. From that point on Leo continued working, and while it still helped to block out the memories of- of that, this time he was working towards something. He spent countless hours in the rink, in dance studios, and researching a coach that would take him on. That’s how he found himself here in Gryffindor, laying face first on a musty motel bed.

Leo groaned at the soreness in his body; if this is how he felt after just his first week here, he was a bit scared to think about what the future would hold.

The only highlight of his day had been meeting them; Finn and Logan. The image of their faces seemed to have been etched under his eyelids because no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to push them away. Leo sighed and rolled onto his back, he reached down to fish his phone from his pocket and opened the search. Logan had mentioned they had been there for practice, Leo knew for a fact that they weren’t figure skaters, so that really only left one other option.

Leo’s fingers hesitated for just a moment before typing Gryffindor Lions Finn and Logan into his phone. Almost instantly, information popped up, press photos of them in their game day suits, gifs of them slamming each other into the boards after a goal. Scrolling down just a bit he clicked open the wiki article.

Finn O’Hara, age 23, was born and raised in New York and was drafted to the Gryffindor Lions in 2017. O’Hara graduated from Harvard University with a degree in English Language Arts and Creative Writing. He gained prestige playing on the Harvard Collegiate hockey team, during the duration of his time at the school. O’Hara, number 17, currently plays right wing…

The article continued into Finn’s stats, Leo scrolled down farther and clicked on Logan’s name highlighted in blue.

Logan Tremblay age 22 joined the Gryffindor Lions the following year in 2018, seeming content to continue his career alongside long-time friend and teammate Finn O’Hara. Tremblay left his hometown of Rimouski, Quebec, Canada to attend Harvard University. Upon graduating with a Business degree, Tremblay joined the NHL. Number 10, also playing right wing…

Leo clicked out of the Wiki and opened Instagram, it didn’t take long before he was scrolling through countless pictures and videos of them, and gods were they gorgeous. The way Finn handled a puck, the strength behind Logan’s slap shot. Leo’s breath hitched each time he found a picture of them shirtless his eyes roving over the strength of their muscles.

What are you even doing to yourself? Leo thought, his thumb pausing its scroll on a picture of Logan in the locker room, half-dressed and a stick between his legs taping the blade.

You told yourself never again. Have you forgotten already? That thought sent a painful stab through Leo’s heart; he threw his phone into the corner of the room disgusted with himself that he dared to even entertain the idea that he was attracted to these men.

I’ll never forget, never. Leo’s eyes drifted up to the tacky popcorn ceiling of his motel room, he stared there trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his heart as hot tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there; sniffling softly as wave after wave of hurt washed over him but eventually, Leo’s burning eyes slipped closed as he drifted into a restless sleep.

***

Leo startled awake to the sharp blaring sound of his alarm, he reached over to the nightstand to turn off the obnoxious sound only to realize his phone wasn’t there. Groaning, he vaguely remembered tossing it into the corner last night, Leo crawled out of bed cringing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling of the street clothes he slept in. Finally turning off the alarm, Leo thanked whatever miracle it was that his phone hadn’t died in the night.

Groaning again Leo made his way into the bathroom only to flinch at the sight of his red puffy face reflected back at him. He splashed himself with icy water until satisfied the redness was from the cold rather than his dried tear tracks.

Gods, you’re pathetic, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Just stick to the plan. You’ve got this Knut. With a sigh, Leo made quick work of gathering his things to head to his morning ballet class, body still sore from practice the day before.

Leo slipped into the dance studio quietly and switched into his soft leather flats before claiming the far corner to begin stretching. This was always one of his favorite parts, the smooth methodical way he is able to loosen his body, the slight burn in his tired muscle as they began to warm, the grounding sensation of just moving in such purposeful ways. He found it soothing.

“Leo!” a posh male voice called out from the door of the studio, making Leo cringe just a bit and lean deeper into his stretch. The man quickly strode over to him and dropped to the floor to begin his own warm-up as he began chatting, “Did you see that triple axel I landed flawlessly in practice the other day?” he asked flipping his silky blond hair out of his face and shooting him a blindingly white smile.

Leo repressed a snort. If by flawless, he meant nearly fell on his ass then yes Leo had seen it. Instead, he opted to ignore the question entirely, “Good morning, Gilderoy.”

“You know if you want, I could teach you,” Gilderoy continued, “I know you haven’t been skating as long as most of us, so I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of extra practice with you.” Leo bit back the urge to say he had been skating his whole life.

“That’s ok Gil, I’m more of a solo practice kinda guy,” Leo replied instead, rolling his eyes when the other man wasn’t looking, then slid down into a full split. Leo breathed in deeply and leaned forward until his entire upper body was pressed flat to his front leg. He held it for a moment then slowly pulled his body upwards until he was bent backward over his back leg, his arms extended into the stretch.

“Leo, love, you don’t need to be self-conscious around me,” Gilderoy said in what Leo could only assume was meant to be a comforting voice, “I know it might be intimidating to learn from a World Championship finalist but I just want to help you.”

Leo bit his cheek in an attempt not to giggle at that statement, he had seen last year’s World Championship. The only reason Gilderoy had even made it on the podium was due to several skaters having to drop from the contest last minute due to injuries, and even then he only got bronze.

“Stop harassing him Gil,” another voice said just before Gilderoy let out an indignant squawk. Leo glanced up to see a tall redhead ruffling Gilderoy’s previously perfectly quaffed hair.

“Morning Leo,” he said with a wink.

“Morning Fab,” Leo grinned as he fought to keep down the image of a different redhead that wanted to take control of his thoughts. Though as he watched Fabian begin moving through his warm-ups he couldn't help but notice how very different they were. Whereas Fabian had the tall lean structure of a dancer, Finn was bulkier, his muscular build tapering down into a trim waist. Fabian’s hair burned a bright ginger with the sides shaved down short into an undercut; Finns auburn hair had looked so soft and fluffy, Leo wished he could have run his hands through it. And that right there was the biggest difference, Fabian was a friend, another skater under the guidance of his coach, but Finn… Finn made Leo’s stomach flip just to think about.

Jesus, you don’t even know the man, get your shit together. Leo’s thoughts were soon pulled away from redheads when Madam Maxine swept into the room to begin their practice.

Later, panting and sweaty from performing combination after combination, Leo switched back into his street shoes and was gathering his things when he heard his name.

“Leo!” Fabian called before plopping down next to him to change his own shoes, “Hey, so Benji and I are going to the Lions home game tomorrow, and we have a couple extra tickets if you wanna come?”

Leo looked up and blinked a bit thrown off by the offer, he hadn’t watched hockey in years. Not since… well not since it happened.

“Oh, um… I shouldn’t,” Leo stuttered out, trying to think up an excuse to decline the invitation.

“What! Why not? My brother and a couple other friends are coming too, it’ll be fun. Give you a reason to get out of your motel room that isn’t just practice.”

“That’s just it, I really should practice more. I don’t have the time to take the night off, I mean I haven’t been performing for nearly as long as y’all. I have a lot of ground to make up here.”

“Leo, babycheeks,” Fabian said dramatically, then casually wrapping his arm around Leo’s shoulders, “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before or if you are just being willfully oblivious, but you skate better than about 90% of the people here and probably about 80% of the people in the industry. Are there some things you need to work on? Sure, but that goes for literally everyone. Your lack of performing experience is not a lack of talent or skill. So with that being said come out with us, enjoy the game, make some friends, practice will always be here when you get back.”

“That’s sweet of you to say Fab, but…”

“Nope! No buts! We are kidnapping you from your room, taking you to the game and you are going to have a great time. Then you will be all ‘Oh Fabian! Thank you so much for helping me get a social life! Oh! How ever can I repay you!’” Fabian said dramatically imitating Leo with a ridiculously over the top southern accent, “Then I will be like ‘it was my pleasure, but I would accept your undying gratitude if you teach me that glorious step sequence you did in practice the other day.’”

At this point, Leo’s eye roll got lost in his laughter as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

“Besides, if for no other reason, you can just spend the evening ogling hockey players.”

At that Leo’s mind flashed back to a pair of sparkling emerald eyes staring into him and soft curls fluffing out under a snapback, reluctantly he sighed and accepted he probably wasn’t getting out of this, “Alright fine, but you’re buying me a beer.”

“I think I can swing that,” Fabian said with a laugh, “and yes, you can come too Gil.”

Gilderoy had been lingering during their conversation just close enough to listen and make himself noticeable, at the sound of his name he instantly perked up, “Oh, that’s so flattering of you to invite me,” he said as if he hadn’t been fishing for an invitation, “Of course I’ll have to call and cancel a couple of plans though, with such short notice you know.”

Fabian simply rolled his eyes, very much used to Gilderoys dramatics, “You do that, and Leo, I’ll text you what time we’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see ya then,” Leo said with a slight wave before he slipped out of the ballet studio and back out into the cold.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

#Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #lumosinlove #Leo knut #Finn O’Hara #logan tremblay #gilderoy lockhart #writing #hockey #figure skating #The Scars of Our Past #intrusive thoughts

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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So Henry, you want to start a YouTube channel? - Chapter 3

Summary: Twenty five year old YouTuber Sandy Choi has no idea that one of her five million subscribers is the one and only Henry Cavill. When he asks her to help him out with starting his own YouTube channel, she falls more and more in love with her. But she should’ve known that dating one of the most desirable bachelors, does come with a prize.

Henry Cavill x Sandy Choi (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 4k

A/N: If you want to be on the taglist, please let me know. Also, I really like reading that you like the story. Such a great way to make my day xx

Masterlist // Channel introduction // Previous chapter // Next chapter

So, this is where Henry Cavill lives. It’s a cute home, but never figured he’d be the one that would live here. I take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t calm down my nerves. I look down at my white dress and wonder if it’s too much.

I think it’s too much.

I don’t know what I could wear to meet him. I was thinking about a short and a top, but felt that was a little bit too revealing, but come to think of it, this dress is pretty short.

I still don’t know, it looks almost wedding dressy. I shouldn’t have worn this. I stare at my Dr. Martens sandals, thanking the fashion angels that I didn’t wear the cute white heels that I initially had in mind. The only thing I would be missing, was a bouquet.

I grab my phone from my purse, to check what time it is. I was supposed to be at his place at eleven and 10:59.

I walk up to the door and press the doorbell. I hear a loud bark, causing me to jump. From behind the door, there are some stumbling noises and I can even hear his long and deep voice. The door opens with a crack and Henry greets me with a bright smile. ‘Hi Sandy.’

Holy shit, is this even legal? Why on earth is he wearing a tank top? Why would he do that to me? What is the point of doing such thing? Is he actively trying to kill me, because if so, it’s working. I can barely function anymore, since his arms are really distracting. I mean, I noticed it yesterday, I noticed it on the best video online, the PC building one, but now…

Holy shit, I can’t even seem to find the right way to greet him.

‘Are you okay, Sandy?’ he asks, when I haven’t said anything at all.

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ I say, way too quickly. I clear my throat, not knowing what to say to him.

‘Please,’ he says, ‘come in.’ Henry takes a step to the side and I walk past him. He has a nicely decorated house, something that I hadn’t expected. It’s really neat too, didn’t expect that from him. ‘You want something to drink?’

‘Water would be nice.’ Kal has noticed me too, because he slowly struts towards me, his butt wiggling from side to side, while he wags his tail. ‘Hi, you big ball of floof. You are nice and clean again.’

‘It was pretty hard washing him in the tiny bath tub,’ Henry recounts and hands me a glass of cold water, with some ice cubes in it.

I clear my throat. ‘Right,’ I say. Standing in front of him shouldn’t make me feel this awkward, especially not after yesterday. I slowly managed to loosen up, but from the looks of it, we are back from square one. I feel my hands shake a bit from the nerves and my shoulders feel painfully tense.

It doesn’t help that Henry is this tall, this bulky, the complete opposite of me. I can’t seem to make eye contact with him and I curse myself for that. Why do I even feel tears out of pure frustration burning in my eyes?

‘You play video games, Sandy?’ Henry asks me. His voice is sweet and thick at the same time.

I scratch Kal behind his ear. ‘Just some Animal Crossing.’

‘Is it worth the hype?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Why do you play it?’

Though it almost feels like a third degree, I’m happy that he is asking me questions about simple things like Animal Crossing and not those deep questions about the existence of life. ‘It’s relaxing,’ I confess. ‘I need that from time to time.’ I look up again, when I know for a fact that my eyes aren’t glossy anymore.

‘So, you don’t play other games?’

I shake my head, not ready to confess that I sometimes grab my old Nintendo DS to play Style Boutique on it. I mean, I like Henry a lot, but sharing this, is one—or five—bridges too far.

‘I think you played this one,’ he says with a confident smile, while he walks to the television.

Is he wearing some perfume? I inhale again, only to be met with a mix of salty and sweet, the perfect combination for a male perfume. He didn’t wear that yesterday and I know that, because I was pretty damn close to him and you bet your ass I took a sniff.

Henry holds up two Mario Kart wheels and I see the remotes are already attached to it. ‘Look at that precious smile,’ he says and only then I realize that I’m indeed smiling. Did he just call my smile precious? ‘You want to play?’

‘Mhm.’ I walk up to the couch and place my glass on a coaster. He hands me a wheel with a remote and plops on the couch, as he starts up the Wii. There is only one more spot left for me to sit and that is right next to him.

As if Kal senses I’m hesitating, he pushes his nose against my leg and I sit down next to Henry. I feel his warmth radiating against my skin, causing me to nearly hyperventilate. His bulky arm accidentally touches me and I clear my throat, not knowing what I should do with myself. Sitting next to him on this couch, is less intimidating than standing in front of him, but it’s still pretty scary.

And I know that I shouldn’t be scared of him, but I can’t help but feel nervous. ‘Are you any good?’ I ask quietly.

‘I always kick Jackson’s ass.’ He looks to the side and our eyes meet. ‘But he is so so. Usually ends at sixth place.’

We pick out our characters (he is Donkey Kong, while I opt for baby Daisy) and once we have chosen our vehicles, Henry leaves it up to me to choose an entire cup for us to race. ‘Special Cup.’

‘You know Rainbow Road is on that cup?’ he mentions.

‘I’m aware, yes.’ I get ready for the first course: Dry Dry Ruins. ‘Good luck,’ I say to him.

‘You think I need it?’ His eyebrow is cocked and he has a smug grin on his face. Besides him getting more and more confident, he is also getting more handsome every passing minute. ‘I’m really good, Sandy.’

‘I figured. Just, don’t hold back for me, okay?’

‘Sure?’ he asks. ‘Because… I don’t want you to feel bad or anything afterwards.’ That’s adorable, oh my God.

‘I’m not a sore loser, so just race like you would usually do.’

The first race is about to start and we both watch the countdown. I push in the right button at the exact moment I know it’s going to give me a better start. Baby Daisy shoots from the 11th place to the sixth, while Henry stutters Donkey Kong to tenth place (from twelfth, if I may add so). While I soar over the roads, pushing myself to a first place, I manage to stay there for the rest of the race, making the gap between me and second place (and everyone else) bigger and bigger as the race continues. I race over the finish line, making a wheelie as I do so and I watch Henry trying to get himself from seventh to sixth place. He is muttering to himself, growing more and more annoyed.

He finally crosses the finish line. ‘I do need luck,’ he mutters. ‘Can’t believe you kicked my ass like that.’

Our second course is Moonview Highway and I snort every time Henry gets run over by a car or a truck and even drives himself off the road multiple times. He ends up in twelfth place and he is visibly frustrated now.

I shouldn’t be thinking like that, but he looks hot as hell when he’s angry like that. He could easily break the Mario kart wheel and the remote in half and knowing that he can do that, it’s something I’ll probably dream about tonight.

‘We can stop, you know,’ I say to him.

‘No, no, no,’ he says, ‘there is still a chance I can not make a total fool out of myself.’

The third course is Bowser’s Castle and this time, Henry is not a total disaster. He managed to earn himself a third place, while I’m still at number one. ‘I have come to realize and accept that I won’t be beating you, but I have to make sure I’m not losing from the computers.’

I can’t help but chuckle.

The final race is my favorite. I love Rainbow Road and know exactly how to maneuver over the roads. While I’ve crossed the finish line, Henry is still falling behind. I press the + button to pause the game. ‘Let me,’ I say and gently pull the steering wheel from his hands. I race Donkey Kong from eighth place to fourth (I’m good, but I’m not a magician. I can’t poof myself over the finish line) and when I cross the finish line, I hand him back the steering wheel. ‘Congratulations,’ I say, ‘you managed to become fifth.’

‘How on earth are you this good? This was unbelievable!’ Henry starts to laugh. ‘You were crossing the finish line twenty seconds before number two would finish, or worse, a whole minute.’

‘Back in college, we did this a lot. We even had a championship.’

‘Tell me you became first.’

I smile. ‘I did, was the best of entire UCLA, three times in a row.’

‘You never shared that on your vlogs.’

That’s cute. He really watches my videos intently, something that is insanely endearing. ‘I didn’t, no. Seemed a bit: oh look at me, you know?’

‘There is nothing wrong with flaunting,’ Henry says. ‘I mean, you do it with your dance videos right?’

I know that he has seen a lot of my videos, but thinking about him sitting on this couch, Kal pressed against his side and him watching those particular videos, makes me uncomfortable. ‘It’s barely flaunting.’

He tilts his head, I notice from the corners of my eyes. ‘You shouldn’t be this hard on yourself, Sandy,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are amazing, five million people and probably more watch your videos. There are a lot of people who are reading your books and…’ He doesnt finish his sentence, while he is looking for the right words to say.

‘You’ve read my books?’ I ask him.

Now he’s blushing a bit and he isn’t looking at me anymore. ‘I’ve read them,’ he admits.

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘But I’m not the only one who adores your videos and finish your books from cover to cover in one sitting. There are tons more and you being modest is absolutely admirable and it only makes you more likable, but there is nothing wrong with admitting that you are talented in many other ways. There is nothing wrong with saying that you are indeed amazing, because it’s true and it shows confidence.’

I bite my lip. ‘Well, fake it till you make it, isn’t that what they say?’

‘Eventually it’ll not be fake anymore.’

A deep sigh leaves my lips and I look at my hands, my thumbs fumbling together. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.

‘Why are you apologizing, Sandy?’

‘That I’m like this again,’ I say. ‘I have a lot of trouble meeting new people and after yesterday…’ Why am I sharing this with him? He’ll probably think I’m the biggest whiny baby on the planet. ‘Never mind.’

‘No, no,’ Henry says, ‘tell me, please. I want to know.’

Kal sits in front of me and I place my hands on the sides of his face, scratching him. ‘I felt really good yesterday after we met, but now I feel like none of that is left. I feel like we’re starting over again. It’s just that I’m not sure what I can say to you now. And you do make it easier and I’m already less nervous and you being a total loser at Mario Kart obviously helps too… I think I don’t want you to think that I’m not having fun.’

‘Sandy,’ Henry says, ‘we’re not starting over. I’m happy that you told me this, though.’

I look up from Kal, to only notice he is already looking at me again.

‘You’re not mad?’

‘This is the last thing I should be mad about. I’m just grateful that you trust me enough to tell me this.’ He bumps his knee against mine and says: ‘I don’t think I can handle it again if I lose.’

‘Figured.’ I look around me, to find something to talk about. As if he is waiting for me to take the first step, he doesn’t say anything. ‘Do you have filming equipment?’

‘I have my phone.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘But a camera is better. You can separate your files more easily, believe me, you’d want that.’

‘I’ll have to believe the expert on that one,’ Henry laughs.

‘Editing software?’

‘Well, I have a few computers around here, but I also have a MacBook, with iMovie on it. Heard that was pretty good. I bet you use something else.’

‘I used to use iMovie,’ I tell him, ‘but now I use Final Cut Pro. It’s around three hundred bucks, maybe a bit more.’

Henry nods. ‘So, I should buy a camera?’

‘Mhm and more.’

‘What?’

‘A hard disk, a tiny tripod, a big tripod. I was thinking you should buy like a microphone and better lightening, but that’s not really necessary. Yet.’

‘Right.’ Henry rubs his hands together and asks: ‘Want to go shopping with me?’

⟢⟡⟣

Henry spend around five hundred pounds on a camera. In a different store we bought a hard disk and indeed two tripods, though they were heavily overpriced, but Henry said that it was fine.

For the occasion, Henry put on a shirt, but this one still accentuates his arms. For a second my mind wanders to my lovely daydreams: thinking about how it would be if he’d wrap those arms around me, pulling me against his insanely strong body and kissing me on top of my head. But to not go into cardiac arrest right here and now, I decide I’ll just have to wait and dream about that when I go to sleep.

Henry is unpacking his camera and turns it on. ‘God, this is beautiful,’ he says, holding the camera up, to take a picture, while he is watching the screen. He packed everything in a blue backpack, that rests between his legs as we sit on a park bench in the shadow. He looks around him and his eyes fall on a field filled with flowers. ‘Let’s have a little photoshoot,’ he says when he turns around, to meet my eyes.

I frown. ‘What?’

‘I have to test out this camera and when I have you with me, you should be my model.’

I’m visibly confused. ‘You want to take pictures of me?’

‘Yes,’ he simply states. ‘Come on.’ He grabs his backpack and walks to the field. I follow him, but now I’m growing more nervous.

Henry Cavill wants to make pictures of me?

‘Go stand over there,’ he tells me and points to the sunflowers. I walk up to it, my legs nearly turning into jello as I stand next to the sunflower that is around my height.

He crouches down and I cock an eyebrow. ‘I’ve seen your editorials, Sandy, you’ll do amazing here. Besides, it’s just me.’

It’s never going to be just you, Henry, don’t you get that? I take a deep breath and start to pose for the pictures. He clicks his tongue, as he continues to snap pictures, telling me I’m looking beautiful, but finally the sun is frying my head. ‘Can we stop?’ I ask him. ‘I’m a sweaty mess.’

Henry starts to chuckle and looks at the screen. ‘Sure thing.’

I walk up to him, so I can look at the pictures as well and oh my God, these all look really good.

‘Wow,’ I mention. ‘Those are pretty decent.’

‘It helps when the model is easy to photograph.’

I clear my throat. What does one say to that? ‘Judging from these pictures, you’ll probably do great with filming,’ I say and together we walk back to the road again. ‘Oh look,’ I say, when Henry has put the camera in his backpack. ‘Cotton candy.’

‘Candy floss. You’re in the UK now, Sandy.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Fine, candy floss then.’

Henry tells me to wait, before he takes a few strides and he’s at the stand, buying one. I decide to watch from a far, especially when the man behind the stand wants a picture with him. I don’t want to intrude, so I wander a bit down the road, making sure that Henry can still see me.

Henry walks up to me, with a giant ball of cotton— candy floss on a stick. He plucks off some of the sweet stuff. ‘Open your mouth,’ he tells me.

If that isn’t something right out of my fantasies, then I don’t know anymore. ‘You’re going to feed me?’

‘Yeah, so your hands don’t get sticky.’ Henry has a lovely smile on his face and I wonder what is he going to be like as a boyfriend? As my boyfriend to be exact.

Would he be rough, dominant and strong, like the fanfics suggest (yes, I read those) or is he soft and cuddly? Now I do suspect a bit of both.

He could be pretty dominant. I mean, he told me to open my mouth and my first reflex was wanting to ask how far open he would’ve liked it. But on the other hand, he is also pretty soft, especially towards me. He wants me to be at ease with him, keeps giving me thoughtful compliments and he even said I was beautiful and that I’m easy to photograph.

I mean, who says that kind of stuff?

Boyfriends do right?

Rolling my eyes, I open my mouth and he feeds me some of the candy floss. He retract his hand, before my lips can reach his fingers. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I can barely look at the man from time to time, let alone if I have these kind of impure thoughts.

‘Last time I had candy floss,’ he says, ‘was when I was sixteen. My friends laughed at me, because I wanted a pink one. I know they all taste the same, no matter what color, but pink is the color it’s supposed to be, right?’

I nod. ‘Agree,’ I say as the sugar dissolves on my tongue.

‘When was the last time you had it?’

‘I think I was eight. My dad took me out to the park, because we knew there was a stand where they sold cotton candy. We always walked passed it a few times, because my mom told us that it was really unhealthy and that your teeth would rot off if you ate it. But my mom wasn’t with us then, so we ate like three of those sticks together and we had to lie down on a park bench for about an hour, because we felt so sick.’

‘Does your mom know now?’

‘No, we’re too scared to tell her.’

Henry chuckles. ‘Are you close with your parents?’

I nod. ‘Yeah, I am. My mother reminds me every single day I should take my vitamins, to stay hydrated and not to frown, but that’s her way of showing me how much she cares. My dad texts me everyday, just telling me how his day is going.’

‘Don’t you miss them?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Why did you even move to London?’ He plucks off some more cotton candy and brings it to my lips. Butterflies flutter inside of my stomach. I feel myself getting more relaxed around him again and him doing this, it feels so normal to us. ‘You never mentioned it in your vlogs.’

I smile, licking the sweet stuff off my lips. ‘I wanted to see the world and I earned enough money to afford it. My parents were really supportive and they wanted me to explore the world. They just hoped I was going to New York or Canada. But they are excited for me. They always watch my videos and even wake up in the middle of the night if I post in the mornings. They have been there for me since the beginning and though I’m in another continent, I feel like they are always right there.’

‘Isn’t it scary?’ he asks. ‘Being in another continent, without your parents at like twenty five?’

‘Every single day.’

We walk down the street and he continues to feed me the cotton candy. It feels weirdly intimate, but not awkwardly intimate. I open my mouth again, but he holds it a little above my reach. ‘Henry,’ I mumble, ‘not funny.’

He chuckles, lowering his hand, but I could’ve known that he was just messing with me. When I stand on my toes, he holds it further above my head and eventually eats the pink stuff himself.

I want to grab some off the stick, but even that he holds above my head. ‘Henry, come on. Don’t be mean.’

He doesn’t think this is mean, because he continues to do it, laughing the entire time. He does it again and I jump up, hoping I can reach it, but it’s hopeless.

I jump up again, but this time I fold my fingers around his forearm, pulling his strong arm with me so I can finally get a bite.

But holding his thick arm like this, it’s giving me all sorts of thoughts. He feels so strong and it’s quite intimidating of course, but something about his warm skin, is also intensely soft.

‘I knew that was there,’ he says with an almost proud smile.

‘That was there what?’ I ask, letting go of his arm.

‘That bit of assertiveness.’

My cheeks flare up. ‘Hardly.’

‘Hence the bit part.’

I glance at him, but it doesn’t last long. He can’t seem to stop smiling and to be fair, I don’t want him to. He looks breathtakingly handsome and like a perfectly sculpted human. He licks his fingers and I bet he knows exactly what that is doing to me. He throws the stick away and wants to wipe his fingers to his shirt or pants, but I stop him.

‘Wait,’ I say, before digging through my small purse, finding a tissue. ‘Here.’

‘Well prepared,’ he comments, as he takes the tissue out of my hand.

‘Always.’

He cleans his hands and throws the tissue into the bin. ‘Thanks for coming with me today.’

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘What do you want to film first?’

‘No idea yet. I want a bit of everything, you know.’

I nod. ‘Get it. When I started my channel, I was thinking about doing a fashion channel. When I thought about it, I realized I didn’t want that and wanted more lifestyle related videos.’

‘What stopped you from doing fashion videos?’

‘Not being fashionable enough.’

‘Nonsense,’ he tells me in a stern voice. ‘You look fashionable.’

I hold in a giggle that bubbles up. Dominant boyfriend Henry is definitely a concept.

‘What even made you start your channel?’

‘I wanted to romanticize my life,’ I answer. ‘I felt like I was wasting my life and realizing that ever moment is worth noting, it’ll give you tons of footage. Just keep that in mind when you film. Nothing is too boring for a vlog, as long as you edit it nicely.’

Henry nods. ‘That’s beautifully said, Sandy.’

Taglist: @flhorah // @henrythickcavill // @toomanystoriessolittletime // @tumblnewby // @newts-fan-case // @thelastsock��

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #so henry you want to start a youtube channel #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavil x sandy choi

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mego42 · 5 years ago

Text

Best of Brio Hitlist: 1x05

Apparently I’m still doing this so that’s cool I guess. 1x05!!! Some absolutely top notch Brio content here, folks. This episode is packed with classics and overall I think makes my series top 10 list but don’t hold me to that bc I have a goldfish memory and there’s easily tons of stuff I’m not thinking about rn.

More nonsense under the cut.

Turner’s mustache is terrible how did I not notice how terrible it was before it’s literally all I can see

“Well maybe he didn’t know if Dean could read?” GOD WHY DID THEY SCRAP THIS LEVEL OF QUALITY CONTENT

Another flannel for Annie, still no girlfriend

AND ANOTHER HOODIE FOR RIO

AND MORE RIO + ANNIE CONTENT

s1 truly was god tier

omfg I forgot Finn Collins was in s1 (if you didn’t watch t100 this is meaningless to you but let me just say it delights me to no end that two separate casting directors looked at that actor’s face and said yep that’s a fuckboy if I’ve ever seen one)

taking a page out of the shows book k and pretending this fake cancer storyline isn’t a thing

RIO!

HIS NAME’S RIO

oooookay

oh is his name Rio??

hEL P

I love slick!Beth and her lying superpower

“There’s a band aid on my arm and it’s not mine” might honestly be the grossest thing this show has ever done

OKAY SO WAIT I will be the first to admit I pay v little attention to the Boland kids (for real which one is Kenny what is the other boy’s name I don’t even know) but isn’t Jane supposed to be the youngest?? And yet Beth hasn’t had sex since Emma was born???? I’m so confused

serious question does this show have a script supervisor

hello again turner’s terrible mustache

“I’m on Facebook too” tbh Rio seems more like a twitter person to me but what do I know

Before I go all caps, I love how Manny plays Rio cycling through amusement and impatience and irritation so quickly that he’s nearly doing all of them at once while dealing with Beth in the early eps, it’s such a rich performance

WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH SOMEONE LIKE ME

it’s actually kind of weird hearing this line in context, I’ve watched it in videos so much it like, exists on its own

Was lowkey expecting a soundtrack to kick in after he said it and the shot to freeze frame or drop saturation

maybe something by hozier or kaleo

I’m absolutely fcking feral for the way Rio says “right, right” all slowed down and soft

Love how hittin’ it straight up bounces off of Beth’s brain, if Rio hadn’t clarified, how long do you think it would’ve taken her to figure out what he meant are we thinking minutes or would she have like, driven off the road halfway home when the shoe dropped

OH I’M SORRY SWEETHEART TELL HIM WE’RE MAKIN’ LOVE

I love love love how hard that scrambles Beth’s whole brain, I love it with my whole heart, I love how you can see it sink in, see her brain go there and then just b r e a k

Ugh god and that little smile when he ducks out after dropping that grenade what a little shit I love it

And then he leaves and that long shot where she’s like, really thinking about it

She’s totally picturing it

(same bitch)

That feels over the line my b

GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDD beth and annie giving ruby their cut gets me right in the godamn feels every time I love their friendship so!!!!! much!!!!!!!!!!!

right in the honey nut feelios <- @medievalraven

the extended shot of three of of them laughing their asses off over Annie being ridiculous feels so real, it’s one of those moments that makes the show and their friendship feel so lived in and genuine, like if you’d told me that was an outtake from after they’d cut I’d believe it, it’s pure friends having a moment and it makes my heart do stuff

beth: my life long bff (who you have known as long as you’ve known me)’s daughter is in the the icu I don’t have time to eat

dean: I don’t underStaND?????!!! hOw tHIS is nOT??????!!!!????? aBoUT mE???????!!!!!!!!???????!!????????

sidebar, I miss Beth’s camel coat it looks so soft and lush and comfy

like don’t get me wrong the black pea coat has it’s advantages as we all saw in 309

but the camel one is so classy, i love it

hello again again turner’s terrible mustache

godDAMN DO I LOVE THIS BETH AND TURNER SCENE

we don’t talk enough about the electric chemistry turner has with everyone he shares a scene with

i mean not dean but who has chemistry with dean, dean has like, negative chemistry. he’s a dampner

all of his scene’s with Beth???? W H E W

with Rio????? *fans self*

can you imagine what that threesome would be like? aside from wildly hot they’d be like a pack of praying mantises at the end all racing to rip the others head of first

it’d be a massacre

but worth it

ahem anyway

AND HE KISSED ME add this line to the list of things I’m absolutely fcking feral over

Something about Christina’s delivery just does!!! It!!!!!! For!!!!!!! Me!!!!!!!!

Whenever people use it in videos I lose my entire godamn mind

remember when Beth was chill about the word panties

And we close with a flawless use of Phantogram 10/10 I want to send the s1 music supe a gd fruit basket

#best of brio hitlist #when will hoodie!rio return from the wars #why does annie not have a girlfriend??? what have men ever done for her??????#1x05 #nbc good girls #shut up meg

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sluttyten · 6 years ago

Text

anywhere with you

summary: you visit your childhood best friend Johnny in Seoul for his birthday, and after years apart, the reunion is certainly one to remember

words: 6,468

pairing: Johnny x Reader

tags/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut

In the last five years, you’d seen your best friend face-to-face only twice. Johnny was important, you understood that. He was always busy and he lived in another country on the other side of the globe, but you missed him. Texting him, hearing his voice (phone calls, NCT’s songs, videos posted by the group, his radio show), the brief occasions when you FaceTimed him just weren’t enough.

You wanted to see Johnny again, make fun of him to his face, be able to hug him and lean on him, so you decided to surprise him by flying over for a few days to spend his birthday with him.

“Did you get smaller?” Johnny asks when he picks you up at the airport. He’s leaning against a car, watching as you haul your suitcase and two extra bags over toward him.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You tell him, nearly tripping when the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on a crack in the sidewalk.

Johnny grins and walks forward to help, tugging the bag from your shoulder, plucking the suitcase from your hand, and he guides you toward his car.

“So you’re here now. What are we doing?” Johnny stuffs your luggage into the trunk of his car, and points to the passenger seat.

“It’s your birthday I’m here for. Whatever you want to do.” You stand in front of him and look up, squinting against the sunlight. “I think you’ve gotten taller since I last saw you.” You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to pinpoint what it is that’s changed about him.

“And hotter, right?” He reaches out, and before you have the chance to protest, Johnny’s dragging you in for a hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around.

“I’ve missed you.” His words are muffled in your hair, his arms are warm and strong around you, and as you tuck your face against his shoulder, you’re reminded of feelings you’d entirely forgotten about from years and years before.

10 years old, playing video games with Johnny, trying not to knock kneed with him because what if he could tell you liked him through that simple touch? 11 years old and you fell off Johnny’s skateboard and scratched your arms and legs, and you cried and Johnny held you and told you it was okay to cry as long as you got back up again.

That crushed persisted for years, until you were fifteen and had your first kiss at a party with a boy who laughed at the dare and stole that kiss from you in an instant. You’d walked home with Johnny that night and he told you all about the girl who kissed him and how nice she smelled. That night you’d decided that having a crush on Johnny was futile. He obviously didn’t see you that way, and it would be for the best if you moved on. He had his eyes set on being a K-pop star anyway, you were sure he’d forget al about you.

But now here you were, nine years later. The crush surging back, full force.

You squirm and drop out of Johnny’s arms. “I missed you too,” you tell him, avoiding his gaze. “It’s cold out here, let’s go.”

Johnny cranks the heat as soon as you’re both settled in the car, the radio is low, just a dull murmur of voices reporting on stories that you can’t even fully hear, and he pulls out of the spot. You take a look around the car, noticing how the passenger side floor is totally clean, but when you glance into the back, there’s a gym bag, the contents of which appears to be scattered across the back seat, phone chargers, a camera bag, an umbrella, something that looks like a blanket. A few half-empty plastic bottles roll around on the floor.

“Hey, don’t look back there!” Johnny laughs, touching your arm so you look around again. “It’s a mess. I usually just throw stuff back there after practice. Taeyong’s always telling me to clean it up.”

“He’s not wrong.” You finally look around at him again, and you immediately have to shove down those annoying romantic feelings again. You forgot how Johnny looks when he drives, and it’s no different here than it was in Chicago. He drives with confidence, one hand on the wheel, staring forward with focus.

In short, he looks hot when he’s driving.

“So what did you bring me for my birthday?” Johnny asks suddenly.

“Am I not a good enough present for you? A spontaneous trip to come see my best friend for more than the five minutes we’ve managed over the last few years.”

Johnny rolls his eyes at you. “It’s been more than five minutes. I introduced you to the guys when you came to New York to see us. Remember, you had tons of time with me, but you spent most of it flirting with Yuta.”

“You know I like guys with piercings.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, you watch the way his knuckles go a little white. “Speaking of guys with piercings, are you still dating that guy?”

Only a month before, you’d been FaceTiming Johnny when your boyfriend came over. You’d tried introducing them, but when your boyfriend was overcome with jealousy, you’d regrettably ended the call with Johnny. And yes, that boyfriend did have several piercings, but not even that fact could have kept you together.

“I broke up with him like a week after that.” You tell Johnny. “He was always jealous over nothing. Especially when I would talk to you.”

“So you’re single? All ready to flirt with Yuta when I take you home with me?”

“I am, but maybe I have a new target this time.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything in response to that, but you think you notice a change in him, a tense set to his shoulders that doesn’t fade even as he starts pointing out places to you while he drives.

You talk in the passenger seat, updating him on the mundanity of your life for a bit before you start asking him about what’s going on with him.

“We just had those concerts. Right now we’ve got a little break for Chinese New Year.” He shrugs. “Practice, practice, practice all hours of the day and night.”

But the deeper you dig, the more Johnny talks, the more he opens up and soon it’s just like old times. Driving around with no destination in mind, watching the sunset burn over the city. You don’t care about stopping, just letting Johnny take you wherever, and finally he pulls to a stop in a parking lot, overlooking the river.

“Remember how we used to go to Navy Pier?” The words are out of you before you even really think about it. “That time we rode the Ferris wheel and you threw up because you were scared?”

Johnny laughs and leans his seat back a little bit. “I wasn’t scared! I’d eaten too much and the car thing was rocking too much. What about that time we went there with that group and I found you kissing that kid. He was in the band? He had glasses?”

“Oh God, please forget about that.” You cover your eyes and laugh, unable to face Johnny as the memories play in your mind.

You were pressed against the warm wall of a building, giggling a little as the guy you liked put his hands under your shirt, just touching your waist, and he kissed you. It was nice and felt risky because there were people walking by and it was almost dark out. You’d just started to reach for him, to touch him too, when you heard a voice call your name in surprise. Johnny stood a few feet away, looking at your crush’s hand under your shirt, your lip gloss smeared a little.

It was embarrassing having been caught by Johnny, and you spent the rest of that night internally panicking because Johnny saw you doing that and what if it made things weird, what if he started finally looking at you like someone who could be kissed, what if he looked at you and started wondering what it would be like if he kissed you? And then you’d imagined for a while that it had been Johnny kissing you against that wall and the idea was nice, but you’d pushed it away because you didn’t have a crush on Johnny, not anymore.

And in the present moment, in Johnny’s car, you found yourself distractedly staring at his lips again.

“I told you I got hotter.” Johnny catches your eye, and when he runs his hand through his hair, he holds the pose and turns toward you making an expression that looks totally silly, but your heart skips a few beats faster.

“You look the same to me. The same John Suh who I’ve always known.” You laugh, and watch as the expression slides off Johnny’s face a little before catching and turning into a smile. Deciding to change the subject, you tease, “So what are we doing? Just sitting in a car, watching the river? I knew you would show me fun things to do in Seoul.”

“Do you remember that drive-in we used to go to?” Johnny asks, leaning back a bit more. “Remember that time someone snuck in beers and we got drunk? Well, I did, anyway.”

“You were tipsy at the most, Johnny. But I remember you making an ass of yourself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He reaches over and pushes lightly at your shoulder, but then he doesn’t draw his hand away, he leaves it there on your shoulder. “I just meant, we had some fun times at the drive in, and there’s one around here we could go to, but they pretty much just show Korean movies, or we could relive old times and have our own drive-in right here. I have my laptop back there, we can watch any movie I’ve got downloaded.”

“Couldn’t we have just done this at your dorm or something?” You feel a smile growing on your face. The drive-in was one of your favorite memories with Johnny.

“It’s better here, trust me. Quieter, more private. At the dorm, some of them would want to watch too and interfere with my time with you.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Or are you too tired to do a movie? We could forget about it, grab some food instead? You probably want to sleep don’t you? I just didn’t even—“

As he slips his hand from your shoulder to reach for the key in the ignition, you grab his hand and immediately calm him.

“It’s fine. I slept on the plane, so I’m wide awake. But I am hungry. Don’t you have any food in that mess?” You gesture to the backseat with your free hand.

“Some snacks. Do you wanna do this?” Johnny asks, and when you nod, he grins. “Then get back there.

You scramble into the back seat, and Johnny gets out of the car and comes around to the back, too big to be able to pull himself into the backseat. He quickly gathers the clothes and things scattered across the seat and shoves them all into his gym bag which he stows on the floor, and then he squeezes in and shuts the door.

“Just a sec.” He digs around in the mess on the floor, and a moment later comes up with his laptop, a handful of snacks, and the blanket you’d noticed earlier.

Johnny sits the laptop on the center console, boots it up, and after a moment of scrolling, selects a movie. You scoot closer to him, and Johnny drapes the blanket over you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, swept into comfort by his scent which is only slightly different from how he used to smell.

“We’re not going to get in trouble for doing this here are we?” You ask while the movie starts up. “No cops are going to come knocking, telling us to stop loitering?”

“I don’t think so.” Johnny puts his arm around your shoulders, both of you snuggled warmly together under this blanket in the backseat of the car.

It’s not quite like a drive-in experience, but it’s nice. It’s special. It’s close enough to the old times when you and Johnny would act inseparable, when you would be all over each other to the point that everyone thought you were dating even when you were dating other people. It’s comfortable resting against Johnny, feeling the vibrations of his laugh and his voice when he talks over the movie.

You like the feel of his chest under your ear, the warm solidity of Johnny, the smell of his cologne, the comforting beating of his heart. You think you could do this a hundred thousand more times and always feel the same surge of happiness and safety. And you have to fight the urge to hold his hand or touch his hair, and worst of all is when you sit up once and Johnny laughs because your hair is messed up on one side and all you can do is stare at his pretty lips and wish you were kissing him.

You quickly grab a snack to preoccupy your hands and mouth to keep from doing something stupid like kissing your best friend and ruining a decades old friendship.

Johnny doesn’t seem to notice anything, he seems perfectly content with having you snuggled against him, like this is something you two still do all the time, and it makes you wonder if there is someone he still does this with. If he has a girlfriend or a fuckbuddy or if he does this with some of the guys.

Before you can even work out a way to ask him that, Johnny grabs your hand that is holding the last bite of a melting chocolate snack cake, and he pulls it up to his mouth.

Now, you’ve never really been the sort to swoon or to act affected by one simple gesture. But.

The moment Johnny’s lips close around your thumb, sucking the small bite of cake and the tip of your finger into his mouth, you just feel weak. Your insides are all quivering—heart pounding, ancient butterflies bursting into flight, and (dare you admit it?) you feel a zip of pleasure straight down to your core.

He sucks and licks over your finger, and you feel your world constricting, shrinking from the whole wide world down to just that car and even further down to your thumb in Johnny’s mouth.

“What was that?” You gasp when he releases your hand.

Johnny, looking slightly chastised or embarrassed, doesn’t look at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that, it’s just that cake smelled really good and so do you and I wanted a taste. Of the cake! I wanted to taste the cake. I should’ve asked. Fuck. I’m sorry if that was weird. I should’ve asked, but I haven’t been so close with someone like this since... you know...”

“You’re not talking about before you left?” You push away from Johnny, sitting upright.

The movie is completely forgotten now as you stare at Johnny, at his surprisingly flushed cheeks, the nervous darting of his eyes, the small fleck of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.

“Johnny, do you mean you haven’t even like cuddled with someone since you lost your virginity?” You try to keep the incredulity out of your voice.

He groans and drops his head back. “You don’t have to say it like that! And no! That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You remember it exactly like that. You remember a party while a friend’s parents were out of town, of Johnny drinking a little and flirting a lot with the pretty girl who was still somewhat new, who Johnny had been flirting with for weeks. You remember most people stayed over at the house, sleeping on floors, on couches, some on the kitchen table. The lucky ones got beds.

You remember that the next day when people started leaving you waited around for Johnny. And then you saw him walking with the girl, holding her hand, a big ass hickey on her throat, and Johnny was glowing with pride. You remember watching as he kissed her cheek and then left her with her friends before he came over to you and you walked home together.

You remember him telling you that he’d had sex with her, that they cuddled afterwards, and it was pretty good. He was sure it would be better in the future when he was less inexperienced.

You remember it changed things between you for a little while. He didn’t seem to continue things with that girl, not that you really noticed. Johnny just spent a lot of time with you, and you were glad for that because he was leaving for good soon. Making the move to Korea. So you were glad for all that time you got to spend with him, barely a moment spent apart.

And now Johnny’s looking at you again, his hand is wrapped around your wrist still, and you try not to let your fingers twitch toward holding his skin too. But you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from his lips.

Slowly, Johnny begins to speak. “I always had a crush on you, you know? But I didn’t want to live a cliche or ruin anything, so I pretended that I didn’t. I kissed other girls, slept with other girls, moved to another a country. It didn’t help. I’ve never felt as comfortable and as happy about doing nothing as I’ve felt when I’m with you. Always. So many of my personal happy memories are with you.” When you open your mouth, looking like you’re about to argue, Johnny keeps talking. “Yeah, there’s successes with NCT, but those are group memories. They’re great. But then there’s you.”

You shake your head. This is too much.

You scoot away from him, putting your back against the door, giving yourself some distance as you feel the cool glass of the window radiating through you.

“I always thought there was like, some kind of tension between us. Maybe just sexual tension since we were teenagers with raging hormones. Maybe it was romantic feelings that we needed to explore. Maybe it was just my imagination, I don’t know, but I left without going into any of that and it never got resolved and now here we are and I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me. It was this spontaneous nudge to just... taste you.”

You feel a little foolish when hot tears burst into your eyes. Overwhelmed by emotions because is this really happening right now?

“Shit.” Johnny shifts and you feel the car rock. There’s a soft thump as the laptop slides off the console into one of the front seats.

And then Johnny’s kneeling in front of you and he reaches out but he doesn’t touch you. He watches a tear fall down your cheek, and you sigh and puff another breath that rises visibly between you since it’s so cold.

“I feel stupid.” You mumble after a moment.

You can see the thoughts running through Johnny’s mind. He’s worried, thinking that you feel stupid for not seeing this, for thinking he was just your friend when he’s had feelings for you this whole time. He’s thinking you regret this trip, this friendship.

“I’m stupid because I’m crying right now. Like what is this?” You wipe at your face and drag your palms against your thighs to dry them, but your face stings with cold now. “I’m not sad or anything like that. And I’m stupid because you just said all that stuff that I had no idea about.”

Johnny’s hand, which had been extended this whole time, finally falls to rest on your knee.

“I’m stupid because when we were ten years old, I was in love with you, but I talked myself out of it because I didn’t think you liked me, so at fifteen I moved on and started kissing other people. But now you’re sitting here in front of me telling me you’ve been crushing on me for forever, that you just involved yourself with other people because you thought that I didn’t like you, and it just turns out we’re both idiots and we’re living that cliche that you wanted to avoid.”

Johnny lifts his hand from your knee, and this time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t stop. He wipes at your cheeks, at the fresh warm tears.

“You know,” Johnny tells you, and his voice has gone so soft and quiet, gentle and low. “I’ve always wanted a birthday kiss from you.”

You nod a little bit. “Okay.”

Johnny leans in, his hand still cupping your cheek. This feels so juvenile, so innocent, to be together in the backseat of the car, about to have your first kiss together. Your palms are clammy.

The first press of his lips is sweet, chaste. Almost nothing and then gone. Almost like a test.

“I thought you said you wanted a taste of me?” You whisper, managing to tease him even when you’re this nervous. You feel like if he would just glance down a little, Johnny could see your nervous heart pounding in your chest.

The second press of his lips on yours is the kiss you’ve been craving. Warm and soft; his tongue sweeping along the seam of your lips; his hand cradling the back of your neck. You open your mouth for him with a little sigh, and Johnny moves closer to you, kissing you deeper, his hand moving down to your lower back, his other hand gripping your thigh, trying to pull you from the window into his lap.

You kiss hungrily, as if making up for all the years that have passed. Johnny’s hands roam your body, mapping out the shape of you, and you dig your fingers into his hair and pull yourself into his lap.

You can feel his boner, and it’s honestly not the first time you’ve felt his boner, but it’s the first time you’ve felt it and known that it was definitely for you. You smile into the kiss and hold him tighter. You don’t want this to stop even as the temperature in the car rises and the windows steam up and somewhere there’s music playing from the laptop’s speakers.

Johnny’s hands sneak between your bodies, moving to your chest, and feeling his hands on your chest pulls the first real moan from you. How many times had you dreamt of Johnny’s hands covering your breasts, warm fingers on your skin.

“Take it off.” You tell him, and Johnny pulls his mouth away from where he was kissing your jaw.

“Really?” His hands slide down to the hem of your sweater.

You nod a yes.

He pulls the sweater over your head, huffs with mild frustration when he sees the shirt you’re wearing underneath, and when he sees the tank top under that, he actually groans. You laugh and kiss his forehead, his cheek, kiss his lips again, and Johnny tugs the straps of the tank top down your arms, pushing the whole thing down to your waist.

His fingers are nimble and so warm as they move over your skin, searching for the clasp of your bra, and when they find it, you feel the sweet relief of your bra sliding off and then Johnny’s hands on your breasts. Bare skin on skin. You moan again.

“You like this?” He asks, thumbing over your nipples. “And if I--?”

The moment that Johnny leans down and licks over one of your nipples, you feel your panties soak through with a gush of arousal. He sucks on the peak, licks once again, and then kisses up your chest.

“Are you really going to have sex with me for the first time in the backseat of your messy car?” You grip his shoulders, seating yourself higher in his lap, feeling the definite shape of his erection against you. Johnny’s hands slide down to your ass and he plants a kiss on your throat.

“Yes, I am. I should’ve done this years ago in the backseat of a different messy car.” He shifts and then your back is pressed to the seat, Johnny kneels between your legs, and checks with you first before he tugs your pants down, then your panties, and then slips the tank top that was bunched around your waist down your legs as well.

The cold air tingles against your exposed skin, hot and cold meeting in a perfect storm, sparking goosebumps all over your body, your nipples standing out the most. You reach for the waistband of Johnny’s pants and tug.

“It’s not fair that you’re still fully dressed. Come on,” You dip your fingers up under his shirt, run your fingertips over his stomach. “And also, for the record, I would not have let you take my virginity in the back seat of your car back then. You’d have done it properly. In a bed or something.”

Johnny smiles and whips his sweatshirt over his head, his shirt underneath following right after. He sinks down to cover your body with his, pressing chest-to-chest with you. “Have your standards lowered then since you’re desperate to have sex in the back of my car now?”

“Just tired of waiting.” You kiss him. “Now come on. I want to see your penis.”

Johnny can’t help but laugh then, hiding his face against your shoulder and letting out this deep belly laugh. You feel his hands pushing yours out of the way, and then the drag of his jeans against your bare thighs. And then, the long awaited brush of his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, Johnny,” Your moan is almost more of a purr, and Johnny startles a little, like he wasn’t expecting that sound to come from you, or like he wasn’t expecting to find you so wet already.

He mumbles something in Korean, and then he’s moving, sitting up again, moving you to sit up as well, then he’s maneuvering so he’s on his back on the seat, gazing up at you sitting over him like some moonlit goddess.

“Please sit on my face.” Johnny’s fingers are on your thighs again, urging you forward. “I want to eat you out, this is the best way to do it.”

You can’t argue with that, and you move forward, letting Johnny guide you a bit until you can feel his breath on your wet center.

“Anything you want to tell me first?” Johnny asks, and you feel yourself growing wetter.

“Um, I love you?” You speak the words tentatively.

Johnny smiles and when he presses a kiss against your clit, your legs almost give out and sit you right down on his mouth. But they don’t you hold on just a bit, and Johnny laughs. “I meant like, is there any way that you really like it best? But I love you too.”

“Just go ahead. Go crazy. I’ll let you know if you’re doing it wrong.” You fit the fingers of one hand into his hair.

He kisses your clit again, and this time you let yourself sink down onto his tongue, his lips, his hands supporting your ass and thighs. He licks over your center, tongue flattened, and you swear and look out the window.

The park is quiet, not many people around since it’s cold and dark out, but the street lights cast pale circles of light, and Johnny’s car is parked just at the edge of one of them. A few other cars are parked in the lot, but they’re all at the other end, and as Johnny suddenly sucks on your clit and you cry out, you’re extremely grateful there are no other cars around.

When he sticks his tongue inside you, licking at your walls, his nose against your clit, you have to throw your hand against the window to keep from crashing forward at the newfound pleasure. Your hand leaves a streak on the glass, drops of condensation trail down the window.

Johnny moans as he tastes you dripping down his tongue, smells your arousal, and feels you starting to move your hips, trying to ride his face for your own pleasure. He holds onto your hips, helping you move against his face, and soon you feel yourself peaking, pleasure washes over you, and you moan Johnny’s name, grinding down on his tongue as you orgasm.

You fall backwards a bit, sitting on his chest.

“That -- that was good.” You sit up again, giving Johnny room for him to move up, and then you settle again in his lap. His mouth and chin shine with your wetness. “Did you like that?” You ask, leaning in to wipe at his face, feeling the stickiness on your fingers.

“You taste amazing.” Johnny drops his forehead against yours. “Do you want more?”

Draping your arms around his shoulders, you nod. “You think I’m going to settle with just having had your tongue inside me? I still haven’t seen your penis, Suh. And I want to feel it inside me.”

Johnny’s hands cup your ass and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Now? In the backseat of my dirty car? What kind of girl are you?”

You swat at his chest. “Just, come on. I’d be happy to wait and have you in a bed or at least somewhere more private than a car in a public parking lot. If you want, we could just wait til we’re at your dorm.”

“No way.” He kisses you again. “And I already told you, this is way more private than the dorm. Are you okay with riding me?”

You nod. You’d be okay with anything at this point, you’re just so happy to have Johnny like this.

When he reaches between you and undoes the button of his pants and slides the zipper down, he does so slowly, teasingly. You pinch his side and murmur a ‘hurry up!’ and Johnny laughs, pushes his jeans down his thighs, and then there’s his penis, tenting his boxer briefs.

You smile up at him before you tease your finger along his clothed length. He’s hard and thick and just the perfect length. He makes a soft noise and it twitches under your touch, and you can’t stand not seeing it for a moment longer, so you reach inside, and draw his cock out through the opening in the front of his underwear.

“Ohm a gosdf” is the sound that Johnny makes when he presses his mouth to your shoulder and you wrap your hand around his erection. You run your hand over him, testing the feel, testing to see his reaction as you lightly drag your fingernail from tip down to base.

Johnny shudders and leans back against the seat, his eyes closed, his throat bare.

“Kiss me.” He tells you, and you comply without a second of hesitation.

Kissing Johnny, you’re quickly learning, is the best feeling in the whole world. It’s familiar and new all at the same time, it’s safe and warm and comforting, radiating love into every part of you, reigniting those distant reaching feelings you’d long buried deep, but now you’re letting them thrive.

So you kiss him and you touch him.

When you lift up on your knees and shift forward, Johnny puts a hand on your hip and pushes you back a little. He backs out of the kiss, but presses in again to kiss you a few more times before he regains control of himself and stops you for pushing down on his cock.

“I have a condom, hold on.” He ducks around you, reaching down to dig inside his gym bag, and he finally pulls out a foil square.

“Do I want to know why you just have that ready to go in your bag?” You ask, wiping at his glistening bottom lip as Johnny frowns down at the wrapper and tears it open.

He kisses your cheek while he reaches down and rolls the condom down his dick. “It’s a precaution. The company passes out new condoms at the start of every month. They figure if we’re going to be having sex, they want to make sure we’re being safe. Some people have a bigger stockpile of condoms than others do. There. Now you can go.”

And in that moment, reality hits you.

You’re really there. You’re really sitting in Johnny’s lap, one orgasm down, at least one more to go, his lips are kissed pinker by you, and you’re about to take his cock for the first time. This is what you’d wanted for so long, and now here it is, right there for you.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, and then he’s touching your face, pushing your hair back behind your ears. “If you don’t want to do this, we really don’t have to. Whatever you want. Let’s stop. We can go eat, like I said.”

“It’s fine. Sorry. Sorry, I was just thinking, like I’m really about to have sex with my best friend.” You slide your hand over one of his shoulders, feel his heartbeat under your hand, and your other hand you touch his hair, brush your thumb over his cheek. “I’m really happy right now.”

Johnny smiles and kisses you again, another sweet, chaste press of his lips on yours. “I had that moment earlier before, when you said ‘I love you.’”

You whisper it to him again then, and Johnny kisses you once more, and you cling to him, holding his mouth to yours as you reach down with the other hand and hold his cock for you to sink down on.

It’s a stretch, taking him inside you, but it’s a pleasant stretch, having him inside you for the first time. You don’t stop until you’ve taken him all in, and you hold there, getting used to that feeling.

When he flexes his hips, pushing up into you, you start moving again.

Johnny’s mouth slips from yours, and he leans back to watch you move, delicious sounds leaving his lips along with your name. And he lets you control the pace, though you can see he wants it faster, but you want to draw it out some, make it last because you’re only here for three days, and you don’t know how many times you’re going to get to have him like this before you head home.

And you would gladly draw it out endlessly, riding Johnny until he cums for you, until your legs give out, until the sun rises.

But a car pulls into the lot. The headlights sweep over the car, glaring through the steamed windows, and the other car pulls into a spot a few down from Johnny’s car.

“Oh, shit.” You laugh, sinking down on Johnny and pressing close to him. It’s probably obvious, even from the outside of the car what’s happening inside. The windows are completely fogged over, you’d felt the car moving a bit as you and Johnny moved, and through the window, you can see someone getting out of the other car.

Johnny flips you over onto your back, pressing you down into the seat, and you almost shriek in surprise, but you bite your lip and dig your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. He kisses your throat and starts rolling his hips against yours, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed.

He pushes up after a few moments, glancing through the window, and you see his face highlighting in the artificial streetlights, misty from the damp windows. He looks so handsome and you tug him down as you rise up to meet him halfway for another kiss.

There’s not much room, and you don’t even know how Johnny’s managing comfortably here in the backseat, but he keeps thrusting into you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you’re sure that you’ll still be feeling him a week later. And then he lifts one of your legs, pushing it toward your chest so he can hit a different angle inside you.

You reach up for something to hold onto, anything, as you feel your orgasm coming, and after your fingers slide through the condensation on the window, they catch on a cupholder on the door, and you hold tight, panting and moaning Johnny’s name as he fucks you right into your second orgasm.

Jolts of intensity soon have you crying out even more from the sensitivity, and you grip onto Johnny’s arms, feeling the muscles flexing under your touch, and you moan, “Cum for me. Cum inside me, please.”

Johnny swears again, and he sinks down over you, sealing his lips over yours as he pushes into you a few more times before he goes still and you feel him flooding the condom with his hot cum.

You stay like that for a few moments, kissing with him inside you.

Both of you are sweaty, pressed skin-to-skin, and you stroke the back of his neck and enjoy this feeling of being so close after so long.

But eventually, the chill of the winter night outside begins to leak back in, nipping at your skin, and you shiver and feel Johnny shiver in response.

“We should get going.” He says then, pushing up off of you, and reaching once again into his gym bag. This time he pulls out a shirt and hands it to you. “You can clean up with this. It needs to be washed anyway.” He kneels back and you watch him carefully pull off the condom and tie it off, and part of you wants to press Johnny to the seat again and suck him clean, but another part of you is hungry and a little tired and definitely cold.

You pull your clothes back on with a little difficulty in the confined space. Johnny dresses too, and when you’re both sitting in the front seat again, he grabs your hand and holds it on the center console.

“Best birthday present ever, by the way.” He puts the car into reverse and backs out of the spot, doing all of this one-handed. “Now, what should we eat before we go meet the guys?”

You squeeze his hand and look ahead at Seoul, all lit up around you, not so different from the home where you’d grown up with Johnny.

“Anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

Johnny snorts a laugh. “That’s cheesy.”

inspired in part by: omg i finally had an dream about nct. i was sharing a moonpie cake with johnny and there was one bite left and i was holding it between my index finger and thumb and johnny straight up put it in his mouth and sucked on my thumb and it was so hot. is there are a specific kink for that? because sweetie, i got it.

a/n: I was originally going to have this Johnny coming home to Chicago, but it just made more sense for it to be you visiting him. and I was going to have it be wild sex in the car but it turned all romantic and stuff instead.

#johnny #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny seo #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #nct #nct smut #and i’m out of here now. checking out logging out whatever for the day. i’m kinda emotionally drained by things and i promised i would write #and post this so here it is. i hope you all have a wonderful weekend i’ll be back soon probabky

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whumptasticwednesday · 5 years ago

Text

Insult to Injury ft. Dadneto (Peter Maximoff - X-Men)

Author’s Note: Hey, ya’ll. I’ve been burning the midnight oil to get this fic out on time, AKA 2 consecutive nights of staying up till’ 3 am. I’ve had the idea for a Peter-centric Dadneto whump fic for a decent amount of time, and after receiving a lovely anonymous prompt, I decided to incorporate both my idea and theirs. Here we’ve got Peter after the events of Apocalypse, debilitated, and accidentally giving himself a nasty case of salmonella, before Erik comes to help. I’m pretty proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it! This fic is unedited, sorry, so please let me know if there’s any glaring issues. For my next fic, I’m shifting away from X-Men for a hot sec so I can write a nice Detroit: Become Human whump fic with our favorite android son, Connor. I’ve been super excited about my plot concept, so I’m ecstatic to start writing it. Anyways, I hope you like this one, I worked very hard on it, and I hope you’re all excited for the DBH fic coming soon!

-Ash

Word Count: 6299

Warning: Emeto and decently graphic descriptions of physical illness

Setting: Post-Apocalypse/Pre-Dark Phoenix

If there's anything Peter Maximoff knew in this moment, it was that not being able to do the one thing your body was genetically enhanced to do, sucked. A lot.

It had been only a few days since the X-Mansion had been rebuilt and things all fell back into this synonymous routine as if the entire building hadn't exploded a short while ago. In Peter's opinion, it was all kind of creepy how easy it seemed for these kids to all just go back to learning when their home and school just got eviscerated in a hellfire, but he didn't think much of it.

All he could think about in this moment, was how immensely bored he was. Peter always had something going on with him; he was either thinking about his impending dad-related issues, plotting a prank, or deciding to go off and steal an entire Walmart's worth of Twinkies in the blink of an eye, there was always something.

Yet now, the rest of the X-Men were off with Charles helping cover up heat from the international press by cleaning up all the damage and destruction in Cairo and showing what Charles had dubbed: "diplomacy", which was too huge of a word for Peter to ever use in an everyday sentence; too many letters, and Peter was left back at the mansion since he really couldn't use his powers effectively at the moment, so it would be pretty useless for him to be tagging along.

Peter normally wouldn't have given a damn, maybe even excited at the prospect of being able to rig his friends' rooms with elaborate traps with Jello and staplers or something of the sorts while they weren't around, yet now, when faced with inescapable boredom that followed him wherever his broken leg did (everywhere), he was dying to have anything to do. As the team was suiting up to get on the jet to go back to Cairo, Peter had pathetically hobbled down to the X-Men bunker on his crutches, begging to be taken with. But they'd simply gassed up the plane and flew off, leaving Peter alone, and oh so very bored.

Which brings us to Peter now, attempting to create an omelette with 6 different cheeses, 8 different and poorly-diced peppers, a heaping assortment of minced tomatoes, and a sprinkling of those off-brand fruit snacks that are always better than the on-brand ones for some reason. It wouldn't be a Peter breakfast without some form of sweet, and in his eyes, it stuck to the healthy-ish theme. It had fruit in the name for a reason, didn't it?

The kid always had a massive appetite, and everyone that knew Peter knew this as well. You'd be hard pressed to find him without some snack or form of sustenance in his hand, scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow. It was all a byproduct of his enhanced metabolism. All that energy to run had to come from somewhere, didn't it? Little did he know, this super stomach of his would come to kick him in the ass in a few short hours. But for now, the silver-haired man child of a mutant was limping around the mansion's kitchen making a very... exotic breakfast for dinner meal.

Peter plopped the strange looking (decently gooey) excuse for an omelette into a large plate with some Twinkies and orange juice on the side. As he devoured his dinner, Peter thought anxiously about Erik. It had taken him 10 years to connect the dots, work up the courage, and even think of confronting the man to tell him of his true parentage, yet wimped out at the last minute, leaving the ambiguous: "I'm here for my family too." Peter groaned audibly to himself as his mind once again replayed the events he'd already replayed a million times before. It was embarrassing as all hell. Luckily, nobody that did know told Erik anything, which Peter was very grateful for.

Imagine learning about a woman you left 2 and a half decades ago actually birthing a son you had no idea existed and just now learned of... but not from him, despite several encounters beforehand where he had ample opportunities to do so. It'd make Peter feel like even more of a loser than a 27 year old who still lived in his mother's basement. But, to be fair, Peter was no longer a grown man living with his mom, he was a grown man living in a school where he was many years past the oldest enrolled student, while not teaching a single class; it was a step up from the basement, trust me.

Once finished with his omelette, Peter quickly washed his dishes and made his trek up the small flight of stairs to reach his room on the second floor. Over the past few days, Peter had learned just how high a set of stairs could be, especially when you end up falling down them on several attempts to slide down the handrail (and failing miserably while being laughed at by dozens of impressionable pre-teen children.) What a loser.

After reaching his room, particularly winded from this dinner excursion, Peter was grateful to see that he hadn't unplugged his television from the wall after his embarrassing fall in an attempt to get to the bathroom by himself, without his crutches, or the lights on. A simple recipe for disaster in nearly all circumstances, yet for some reason, the universe held pity for Peter and his debilitated state, and decided to not make his day any worse than it already was.

Peter ultimately decided to entertain himself with a good night-long play session of Pac-Man on his Atari 2600, also still miraculously undamaged from last night's fall. He booted up the inferior version of the game (seriously though, he'd have to get Kurt to help him teleport his arcade cabinet from his basement to the school, playing this one was getting a bit tiring on the eyes.) It sufficed, he thought as the TV harshly flashed on.

Now normally, Peter would have been up all night with his video games and rock music blaring in the background, yet tonight, something (besides his immobile leg) felt really off. Each distinct 'WOMP' from the console as the yellow circle man consumed the dashes and dots felt like a sledgehammer into Peter's eardrums, leaving a resonating ache at the base of his skull. He didn't think much of it and brushed it off, simply turning down his music a notch and backing away from the TV a few inches.

The next confusing sign that something wasn't quite right was the disconcerting shivers wracking his body. A chilly breeze seemed to sweep the room as if the AC was on full blast with the windows open on a November midnight, yet it was July and all the windows were closed and when he went to check if his AC unit was acting up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That's whack, Peter thought to himself as he plopped onto his bed, Atari abandoned on the rugged floor.

He didn't know how long he spent staring at the unmoving chandelier hanging lamely from the ceiling, but it felt as if seconds later, the room was not only freezing, but spinning, and suffocating. Everything felt way too close. Peter could feel every fiber of his shirt rubbing against his jacket, the itchy inside of his cast pressing up against the entirety of his right leg, and the presence of his goggles resting on his neck, now seeming like a noose closing in on his throat. He hastily tore off the eyewear and tossed them on his nightstand before deciding to shed his jacket and weakly throwing it across the room. Another move he regretted.

Without the jacket to keep his arms warm, the newfound seemingly frosty atmosphere felt like a icy flurry against his skin. In spite of his mind's confused wishes, Peter ripped the heavy blanket off the end of the bed and closed it around himself like a caterpillar ready to emerge as a butterfly the next time it saw the daylight. Peter sure as hell didn't feel like a caterpillar, but if the feeling of metamorphosis was a growing sense of intense nausea and cramping in the stomach, then hell yeah, he was crushing this butterfly business.

Fuck, what's wrong with me?! He thought to himself as he rolled onto his side. Peter rubbed at his eyes, hoping to clear the dizziness, yet only further irritating them. God damnit, he sighed internally as his face scrunched up in discomfort, releasing one of his hand's hold on the blanket to cradle his aching stomach.

"Is this karma for all that shit I stole when I was younger? That's just mean, man," Peter rasped to nobody in particular. He thought about it more though and responded to his own question, "Then again, I think that's pretty fair. Haha...Shit, man. Never thought I'd say this, but I think... I think I need help."

The sledgehammer-like headache was pounding with every bass drum beat lightly emanating from the sound system Peter hadn't turned off, another move he regretted. He couldn't decide if the pros outweighed the cons: hobbling through the dark to possibly remedy a source of his suffering, but relinquishing his hold on the only thing keeping him from feeling like freezing. Peter played it safe, much to his cranium's dismay.

Peter stared off towards the wall at nothing in particular as he tried oh so hard to draw his mind's focus from how terrible he felt to literally anything else. It wasn't working out so well. And so, Peter laid there, blanket tossed over himself, single leg drawn up to his chest, shivering like a leaf in a rainstorm, as nauseous as a toddler who just rode their first roller coaster, feeling like he was about to cry, and alone. What a miserable way to spend the night.

------

If there's anything Erik Lehnsherr knew in this moment, it was that he was beyond irritated that Charles wasn't at the mansion to run his own school. Despite leaving the school once he'd helped rebuild it to try and seek solitude to wrap his mind around his place in the world and everything that'd happened to him, Erik was back at the mansion once again. He was ready to lay down the foundations for his new mutant hideaway, Genosha, and needed Charles's connections to the government to help smooth over his charges and get clearance to have his isolated society where he might truly find happiness and solace. The universe had spoken, and he obviously wasn't cut out to be a nuclear family kind of guy.

Unbeknownst to him, Erik had once again meandered into a setting with his unrealized son. Also unbeknownst to him, that son was currently cooped up alone in his room, feeling like death.

Erik uncomfortably paced around the mansion, checking Charles's office, the X-Men bunker, and all the other places he might have been, yet the telepath was nowhere to be found. Erik sighed, he knew coming this late was a bargain, one, it turns out, he'd come to lose. The school itself was eerily quiet. It was if the entire mansion was empty or something. Peaceful, yet unsettling for a man who knew nothing but chaos.

Erik was about to borrow a book someone had abandoned in the foyer when he heard the muffled melodies of American rock music echoing from the upstairs floor. It must be that problematic Peter child, Erik thought to himself. From what he told himself was a civil duty to the rest of the sleeping kids in the school (but was actually his own way to cope with his curiosity) Erik decided to check up on the snarky young man to ask if he'd turn down the tunes.

As he approached the door, Erik was bracing himself for something extremely untamed. Perhaps a messy, greasy slophole of a living area, or maybe a drunk and uncontrollably obnoxious man dancing to his music in the nude. You never really knew with Peter, and Erik had come to expect the strangest out of the boy from the few genuine interactions they've had.

Erik gently tapped his knuckles against the door, waiting patiently for a 'come in', or something along the lines of those words, yet it never came. Raising a questioning yet not too surprised eyebrow, Erik knocked again, using slightly harder bangs, not wishing to make a ruckus and wake anyone else in the hallway up. Again, nothing. Although it could have simply boiled down to Peter not hearing him from his loud and abhorrent music, Erik was growing slightly irritated with the lack of a response. So with his last reserves of patience, he knocked one final time, once again listening for a signal or cue to enter. He was met with nothing yet again.

Wondering for the worst and fully expecting to meet a blackout drunk Peter when he opened the door, Erik tentatively jiggled the doorknob, which just so happened to be unlocked, and stepped inside. Thankfully, he was not met with a naked dancing or woefully drunk mutant speedster, but most would probably argue that what he was met with was quite worse. And that being a rancid stench of sick and sour nastiness lingering in the air, a poorly plopped pile of blankets draped over the culprit of the odor, and the culprit himself lying pale and flushed on the floor beside his bed, covered in his own vomit.

Erik's nose crinkled up from being met by the strongly nauseating smell of the room, reaching for the light switch on the wall to aid the sad little table lamp and glow of the TV in illuminating the room. Now he truly saw the pity-worthy situation for what it was. Peter laid in a heap on the ground next to his bed; he'd clearly trying to make it to the en suite bathroom just a few feet away. However, with his dizzy mind and immobile leg, he didn't make it very far and ended up expelling his dinner in a much less... dignified location (if you could consider a toilet bowl a very dignified location), that undignified location being all over his lap and onto his faded Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Not knowing how to really handle the situation, Erik called out a soft, "Peter?" hoping to elicit a response. Yet, just like at the door, he was met with nothing. As he approached the boy, thoughts of anxiety and panic circled through his mind. What would he say to him when he woke up? Would he be uncomfortable with Erik of all people coming to help? Would he be confused? Would he not care? He felt undeniably and inexplicably awkward. Erik shook the thoughts from his conscious as he knelt down to try and meet Peter's face.

"Peter?" he asked again. Erik tentatively reached over to tap the boy's face, which was contorted in a pinched expression of discomfort, marred further by the vomit drying in a trail down his chin.

Once Erik's hand made contact with Peter's cheek, he wanted to retract it. From the split second interaction, Erik had felt the clammy, sweaty, and scorching hot skin and was growing concerned. The slight physical prodding finally made Peter respond.

"Mom?" he asked groggily, voice cracking, "I'll put my dishes in the sink in a minute... I'm tired..."

Erik let out a harsh sigh, bending his neck in an attempt to make eye contact with the boy.

"Peter, I'm not you-" Erik was cut off.

"Yeah yeah... I'm not your maid. I know, Ma. Just... give me five."

"Peter." Erik stated bluntly yet with a hint of unease, unsure if Peter was delirious or just messing with him, "look at me, please."

Peter cracked open his eyes and blearily met Erik's stoic and collected face. He blinked a few times, slowly and deliberately, calculating who was kneeling in front of him, before letting out a weak and wheezy chuckle, "hey there, refrigerator ornament. Wassup?"

Erik rolled his eyes, responding with, "I came to ask you to turn down your atrocious music so you won't wake any of the other children who are trying to sleep. When I came in here, you were passed out on the floor. Would you like to explain to me what happened?"

"Nah... it isn't all too interesting"

"Peter, can you please act like an adult for 2 minutes? Please?"

"Oh man, the Nazi-hunting, president-killing, horseman of the Apocalypse is bustin' out the PLEASES. Look out, world, Lord of the Vacation Souvenirs has a new tactic... MANNERS!"

Peter burst out laughing at his own adolescent joke, ending in a wheezy struggle to catch his own breath. Erik couldn't tell if he was just screwing with him or genuinely needed help. This behavior seemed pretty normal for the immature mutant.

"Look, Peter, I really just need to know if you're okay. Can you answer that simple question, please?"

"Man, your tactics are workin' like a charm. I guess I'll tel-" Peter was cut off by a repulsing gag, hunching over and expelling his stomach's contents... again, this time, however, onto Erik's shirt, quickly travelling in a sad trail down onto his freshly-ironed pants. Peter's bloodshot eyes went side with embarrassment as he quickly transitioned his gaze to the floor.

Erik's face was caught frozen still as his mind caught up with what had just happened. As repulsed as he was, it wasn't like he hadn't seen worse. But that still didn't make the fact that he was just puked on any less disgusting. After audibly exhaling through his nose, Erik once again focused on the miserable man child in front of him, who was now anxiously tapping his fingernails on the hard plaster of his cast, deliberately trying to avoid eye contact.

God damnit, Peter, He thought to himself as he continued tapping, it's bad enough leaving him with a painfully ambiguous response during a battle to save all of humanity, ultimately ruining a perfectly good chance to fess up, but now look what you've done. You fucking threw up on him. Peter felt himself growing smaller as his subconscious shamed him for his uncontrollable bout of illness. It was stupid and ultimately all in his head, but it didn't make him feel any less shit about his situation.

After taking the few quiet seconds, Erik stood up, and whether it was out of pity or some subconscious moral quest, grabbed Peter by the armpits and dragged him to the bathroom.

"W-what the?" Peter asked, confused by the harsh white light of the bathroom and the sudden shift in scenery.

"Well I'm not going to let you sit in your own disgusting clothes. I have standards, you know. Can you undress yourself? I'll get us both some clean clothes."

Peter grunted in response. It meant: yeah, I think I can take off my own clothes, bro... once the room stops spinning. Erik, however, had already up and left, stripping off his own soiled shirt and rifling through Peter's dresser drawers, and taking the opportunity to flick off the television and silence the music that had been awkwardly filling the room's background space up until now.

Peter didn't have much variety in his clothing, dark jeans and band logo t-shirts were most of his dresser's arsenal. Not wishing to be clad in a Metallica shirt for the rest of the night, he dug a bit further into the seemingly endless assortment of shirts till he found a plain white short sleeve, sighing in relief. He grabbed a random shirt from the top of the assortment which just so happened to have the Journey logo on it, and set off to find new pants for the boy.

Back in the bathroom, Peter was still laying slumped against the bathtub, shivering. Everything around him had seemingly slowed to a halt, not unlike when he was running past the speed of sound, but this time deceleration just felt... wrong.

The crashing rhythm of the rock music had come to a halt, yet it didn't cease the incessant throbbing ache in his head, as if the bass riffs and the harsh taps of the snare were on a permanent loop with earbuds permanently glued to his ears. He was trying his best to prevent himself from groaning or whining as to not sound like even more of a child in front of Erik, but honestly, he didn't want his nonexistent father right now, he wanted his mom.

Peter was snapped from his self loathing by Erik's footfalls growing progressively louder as he approached him. Erik had thrown on a pair of track pants and a random white shirt. He was holding a pair of sweatpants and another shirt for Peter so he could be free of his sweat-slick and vomit-covered clothes.

"Hey, you don't get to keep those. I like those pants," Peter stated sarcastically, still trying to put up a front, although he was unsure why. He'd needed help, it was painfully obvious, so why was he still pushing his father away? Resentment? Anger? Pride? No... fear.

"Arms up," Erik instructed, preparing to take Peter's shirt off for him.

"Yo, you know I'm not a toddler, right? I can take off my own god damn shirt."

"You sure don't act like you're a day older than one, and I don't wanna risk you accidentally suffocating getting stuck in your own clothing so... arms up."

Peter sighed and did as he was told. Erik swiftly peeled the top off the boy and felt around his back, finding it clammy and warm. As if he'd just went from the tropics to Antarctica, the shirt leaving his skin exposed his skin to a whole new level of cold. The sensation ripped through his spine as his teeth started chattering. Hoping Erik had a brain underneath that skull, Peter was (im)patiently waiting for the man to save him from the frosty winds of his newly installed Arctic bathroom and slip the new shirt over him already. However, much to Peter's dismay, Erik turned on the tub's faucet, soaking a hand towel in cold water before leaning over and placing it on Peter's exposed back.

The second the frigid cloth made contact with his skin, Peter recoiled, back arching backwards, arms frantically bending to try and remove it. Erik sighed, slightly out of pity, and continued holding it down.

"Is this some cruel punishment? What did I do?" Peter pleaded, hoping to distract himself from crying by use of humor.

"You're scorching and sticky and it's just disgusting. I'm cooling you down, so relax," Erik explained. "It'll be a few more seconds, I just needed to get all the sweat off of you."

And as quickly as it had begun, the endeavor was over and Erik was threading Peter's strikingly pale and flimsy arms through the shirt holes. Peter audibly sighed, feeling like he'd just spent an hour in an industrial freezer and was now back into a normal temperature.

Erik's eyes drifted to Peter's legs, immediately noticing a flaw in his plan. How was he going to change Peter's pants with that full leg cast?

"Peter, how do you typically change your pants considering your current... situation?" Erik asked.

"It's pretty simple. I don't," Peter replied bluntly.

"W-what?"

"Well, after I got my leg set a few days ago, I changed into jeans, not wanting to be in flight suit pants for the next week of my life, and I haven't swapped since. It's like, physically impossible."

"So... you've been wearing the same (disgustingly dirty) pants all week?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Hank says I should be grateful that it'll heal in a couple days, most people you'd find passed out on their floor covered in vomit with a full leg cast would have been wearing their nasty pants for weeks."

Erik sighed, tossing Peter's soiled shirt and the sweatpants back into the bedroom before meeting his gaze.

"Alright, Peter, I'm going to set you up in bed now."

"Sounds grea-" Peter was once again, clamping his hand over his mouth, pathetically dragging himself over to the toilet to prevent throwing up all over himself again.

Erik saw his distress and lifted the toilet lid and seat, prompting Peter to start heaving into the sad and dreary porcelain bowl. Each dry or productive heave sent another pulsing wave of pain and violent nausea from his stomach to seemingly every conceivable inch of his body in a viscous cycle of suffering. Erik could do nothing but watch as the silver-haired boy wretched in agony, each heave causing his breath to hitch, caught in his throat, as another bout of sick rushed up past his lips, crashing into the toilet bowl.

Erik wanted to reach over and rub Peter's back or offer a semblance of physical comfort for the anguish he must have been feeling. He'd often do this for his daughter, Nina, whenever she had a stomach bug. Erik reached out his hand, only to quickly retract it, shaking haunting thoughts from his mind. This boy was not his child, and in no way would he ever come close to being Nina. What was he thinking?

Guilt quickly overtook the memories as Peter finished his session of sickness. He sagged limply against the side of the toilet, face still partially hidden by the rim of the bowl. When he looked up at Erik, he looked awful. Beyond awful.

Red-rimmed eyes, clearly there as Peter attempted to stop the obvious tears from spilling over, met cool yet collected ones, the former's being full of pain, not just from this embarrassment or the physical turmoil he'd just endured, but something else. Erik knew those eyes. He knew them because for so long, they were the ones he'd stared at in the mirror, day after day, for years, until he'd found Charles, only to come face to face again with those demonized eyes in the form of an immature mutant puking his guts out on his bathroom floor. They were the eyes of a young man who was lost, feeling alone, hiding a part of themselves they wanted to let go, to set free, so they could truly be happy, yet he couldn't possibly decipher what could be internally destroying the boy.

"I-I'm sorry you had to watch that..." Peter said softly as his head lolled over.

"It's fine," Erik replied with a tone to match that of Peter's.

"I'm pretty sure... that I'm done. For now?" It came out as more of a question, but at this point, Peter wasn't trusting any signal his body was sending him. Every impulse had been smudged and cloudy in his mind, and paired with the seemingly endless headache and the relentless chills racking his body from the fever, Peter was sure that if his mind were a computer hard drive, it would have self destructed out of a deadly virus slowly hacking into the hardware.

But alas, Peter was no computer, and so he was stuck with this mystery illness, cooped up in his room, unable to run, with Erik mother-hecking Lehnsherr. His fever-addled mind was barely functioning at this point, so he didn't register anything but dizzying blurred images swirling around his head and slightly-grumbled voice swimming in his ears as Erik scooped the kid up like a newlywed bride and carried him off to bed.

Peter had never been more grateful to grace the comfort of his duvet, ready to sleep. He halfheartedly grabbed at it in an attempt to cover himself and finally warm up. Erik sighed with pity, grabbing it for him and draping it over his shoulders before moving over to stand by the nightstand and awkwardly watching Peter try and get comfortable.

Despite the obvious fact that his body wanted him to sleep, Peter's mind was racing everywhere except the realm of unconsciousness. Every thought was emphasized ten-fold as it bounced around his head until the only things remaining were his want, heck, his need, to tell Erik the truth, and the hesitant and unsure anxiety lingering in the background of his subconscious that was stopping him from doing just that.

Fevers, though, as Peter was quickly learning, tended to do weird shit to what your brain was really trying to accomplish, often scrambling any message you tried to expel to the point where it may or may not have even been your true intentions. And hell, it was an even bigger gamble if you'd remember any of the dumb shit you'd done or said. It was as if the heat had boiled all the potentially embarrassing memories away, which was at least kinda nice.

With everything happening, Peter thought it best for Erik to just pack up and scoot from the premises, as not to accidentally say or do something stupid that might come back to bite him in the ass later, but Peter wasn't about to pull an asshole move on the man who'd just helped him despite not being obligated to at all.

So, instead of verbally asking, Peter did the next most "mature" thing he could have in his debilitated and helpless situation. He pretended to be asleep in a pathetic hope that Erik would leave on his own. He didn't. Peter ended up looking like he was trying way too hard to be asleep than any real asleep person, and after a few minutes, Erik caught on.

"Peter, I know you're not actually sleeping," Erik said, not putting on any sort of specific emotion.

Peter cracked one red and tired eye open, meeting Erik's gaze yet again. Peter sighed and turned over onto his side, back to the other man, bleary eyes trying to focus on anything that wasn't Erik. Sleep, a seemingly effortless task for most, eluded Peter as he let out an a low whine. This was miserable.

"Hey, Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I umm... never mind..."

"What were you going to say?"

"It's nothing... I just feel stupid since I can't even do the easiest thing on the planet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question struck Peter like a cold dagger to the heart, it sounded so much like something his mom would say, who was practically the only person he wanted in that moment. Peter didn't like to be weak or expose any of his fears. He preferred to be distant and reserved, to hide all that insecurity with stupid dry humor and sarcasm. His mom and his sisters were really the only ones who he'd truly been open with, and when faced with these new circumstances, finally able to reconnect with the father he never had, he was frozen in place, and after pushing people away and closing himself off for so long, not knowing what to do to reach out and truly face what he needed to.

Completely internally and externally overwhelmed, Peter let his dam of pride burst, letting his emotional flood pour out of his eyes in the form of earnest, choked sobs. He bit his lip and weakly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to hide his distress.

Erik was taken aback, taking a step towards him, before backpedaling as fast as the initial paternal instinct had seized him. He didn't know what to do. Erik was conflicted, scared of overstepping boundaries, but wholeheartedly wanting to comfort the clearly suffering boy lying in bed in front of him.

And in a flash of instinct, an unspoken, deep-rooted, yet unknown draw towards the silver-haired boy, Erik sat down on the mattress, back meeting Peter's, and leaning over his shoulder to rub his back

Erik's hand was shaky, unsure if it should truly be there. He felt the heat radiating off Peter's skin through his t-shirt. Erik glanced down further to Peter's face, and despite the hands trying (and failing) to cover his eyes, saw it covered in a new sheen of sweat quickly mixing with his tears, pale and pasty with angry crimson patches sitting pretty as pictures on his cheeks and forehead. Everything in that moment accentuated both how awfully awkward Erik and truly terrible Peter felt.

Erik didn't even know if Peter was lucid anymore. He was breaking down into tears, shivering and being comforted by someone who was practically a stranger. Eventually, the sobs dwindled into whimpers and Erik's nerves were starting to taper off himself. The room fell into a weirdly calm silence as the two decided to not say anything. Until Peter's shaky voice cut through the room.

"Y-you know... when I was a dumb little kid, I thought I-I could outrun germs. Look at me now. I can't even cook a f-freakin' omelette without making myself sick... I never needed to cook for myself, it was always my mom, or Hostess cakes."

"..." Erik wanted to say something, anything, but he was unsure what, or if Peter would understand.

"I can't do anything right... life tosses me chances and I just fuck em' all up."

Erik soon realized Peter was no longer talking about his omelette, but something deeper.

"I just wish... you could've d-done this for me when I was still that dumb little kid. I wish for so much to be different. I'd always wanted a d-dad, and when I finally figured out who he was, I learn he'd gone off to kill the president! I-I don't know..."

"W-what?"

"I m-might not be able to outrun germs, but my entire l-life, I've outrun everything. The law, my responsibilities, adulthood... But now, the one time when I finally can't run from anything, out of all of my problems, I gotta face you of all things. N-not the way I thought this would happen..." Peter's words died out as he fell silent.

Erik wasn't sure he'd heard Peter properly. Until something in his mind clicked. Everything he's done up until now: "my mom once knew a guy who could do that..." and "I'm here for my family too..." Oh my god, he thought, I'm... I-I'm Peter's... father? Who else had he been with before his wife... Magda. Oh god.

Erik pulled his hand away from Peter's back. This caused Peter to moan and flip onto his back, staring directly at Erik, eyes cutting straight to his heart like knives.

"W-why'd you stop? It was nice..." Peter admitted shyly.

"I-I need a second, Peter. I'm sorry," Erik sighed as he pushed himself off the mattress.

Peter said nothing as his eyes drifted back to his bedspread. Disappointment lurking behind his bloodshot irises.

Erik walked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He stared up at himself in the mirror, hands gripped tightly around the basin. This couldn't be happening. Not after Nina, not again. Erik was just... terrified. Terrified of the idea of getting close again. Anyone who's ever been a part of Erik's family... had died. His parents, his wife, his daughter; he didn't want Peter to join the list of people the universe was just deemed to kill. He knew that Peter was far from dying, it was a simple fact that the kid couldn't cook and he'd fed himself something underdone. Yet, it was all happening, it was all too fast, and everything felt so damn scary.

He knew, deep down, that this was the truth. It only made sense that the Magda didn't wanna tell her son that his dad was an internationally targeted terrorist that's murdered dozens of people, and this kid had no reasons to lie about it. God... Erik didn't know how to feel, what he should do, but he did know that had a need to comfort Peter, who'd just confessed a secret he'd been hiding for who knows how long, and was now laying alone, probably feeling abandoned again, after pouring his heart out knowing full well it might be shot down.

Whether it was all intentional was yet to be seen. Again, fevers did weird shit.

Erik let out a low sigh and opened the door, finding Peter curled up on himself as best he could, softly whining, mumbling incoherently to himself. Erik stepped over and sat down on the bed again, the entire mattress dipping from his weight.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I am very happy you told me..." Erik was searching for the right words, "the truth."

" 'r welc'm" Peter mumbled as his puffy eyelids slid over his tired brown eyes.

"Is there anything you need me to do for you right now?"

"J'st... stay please. I-It's embarassin', I know, but I just... my mom used to do it..."

"Alright, Peter. I'm not gonna leave, so just try to sleep, okay?"

Peter didn't need to be told twice as his mind and body worked in harmony, finally allowing Peter to be lulled off to the realm of unconsciousness. And although he knew it wasn't necessary, Erik wished to add to the intimacy of this quiet moment, a type of moment so rare and inconstant in both of their lives, so he pushed himself up against the headboard, laying out flat on the bed, and carded his fingers into Peter's silky silver locks. And out of habit, maybe a sort of tendency he'd developed from doing it with Nina, or an obligation to share what he felt Peter deserved, he began to hum his family lullaby, ever so slowly and softly, drowning out any other thing the world wanted to toss at them. Because in that moment... Erik and Peter had found something they'd both been missing for so long, peacefulness and contentment. And for that short night, it was all they needed.

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hollenka99 · 5 years ago

Text

The Doctor

Summary: Henrik finds himself the doctor of a household full of people who look a lot like him.

Warnings: Death mention, gore, possession, kidnapping, medical procedures

Well, it’s only been 7 months since I posted The Magician. I think it’s high time I updated this au, don’t you?

@egopocalypse

Peter's death consumes Dr Schneeplestein's mind as he cycles home. He'll have to look his wife in the eye and explain to her that their accountant was gone. She'll probably be mad. He doesn't want her to be mad. He wants her to be empathetic. Peter was more than his accountant, he was his friend as well. And their children, he's sure they have children, they are likely to bother him with trivial things like homework. Who cares about what they did at school today? He is going to lock himself in the spare bedroom for the rest of the evening. He needs the time alone. Distracted by these thoughts, he takes the wrong path which inevitably directs him to a house he knows is not his own. Well, that's just great. He's gotten himself lost. This is the last thing he needs right now. Best to ask the residents if they could send him back on his way. God knows he doesn't want to be aimlessly pedalling around for ages. A man immediately speaks over his shoulder upon taking one look at him. "Jack, I think Sean's posted the video." The one he guesses is Jack emerges. "Fantastic. Hey, buddy, I'm Jack. And this is Marvin. Come on inside." "I just wanted to go home." The smile falters. "Oh, sure. Didn't realise you lived somewhere else. How about you stay here for a minute first? We can sort everything out." He needed their help so... fine. If they insisted. "Please do not be long." It is brief, as the two strangers had promised. The three of them discuss the situation. Jack maintained a YouTube channel with his friend Sean. The videos from the channel enabled Sean's ability to bring the characters he played to life. The community surrounding the channel played their part in all of it too, yet it was Sean who usually lay the foundation. That sounded reasonable. Marvin, it appeared, was capable of performing magic. Quite fond of plants as well. While as welcoming as Jack, there was an off-putting air about the magician. Not judgemental as such but... well, Schneeplestein couldn't quite work it out. It didn't matter. Marvin was friendly enough. The young superhero is inappropriately loud as he enters. They were having a conversation and this kid just bursts in. Jackie, which was apparently the hero's name, comes across as friendly once he realises his mistake. Schneeplestein interrupts him as he rambles about a recent sighting. Yes, there is a house not too far from here. The doctor should know, it is his. Jackie is tasked with directing him home. As they walk, Jackie proves to be talkative. He makes up for Schneeplestein's lack of contribution by filling the silence. It would seem the doctor was made in response to Jackie nearly dying from exsanguination. That was... interesting. When asked more about his family, he realises he doesn't know. He can't even tell him what his children's names are. He can't remember. Why can't he remember their names?! They are his children! His wife! This must have been reported back as Jack asks to meet up the next morning. The doctor happily accepts. The talk leads to working out what his name was. He had to be more than Dr Schneeplestein. One of Jack's suggestions is Leo. It triggers a reaction within him. With some thought, the doctor comes to the name of Leonie. Memories of meeting a French woman with bushy curls flood in. The way she smiled as she accepted the offer for coffee. Her pleasant shock as he presented her with a ring. The beautiful elegance of the dress that had exceeded his expectations. Completely missing her hints until she swore in her native language before slamming a positive test into his hands. Seeing her face light up as she dragged him towards their son so he could witness clumsy steps. Coming into the living room on Mother's Day, only to find two of them sleepily snuggling on the sofa with her while she was pregnant with the third. Jack is delighted with this burst of recollection. It means it's working. They carry on with the list of male names. Hugo, Gunter, Patrik… even Reinhold. Nothing. No reaction from deep within himself is mustered. He's not Siegfried von Schneeplestein either. Eventually, Heinrich is brought up. Heinrich. Yes, that sounded right. Yet not. But they were on the right path. Heinz? No, which is good because he doesn't want to share his name with a tinned food company. The 'rich' part certainly resonated with him. Rick, Richard? Well, even if he was a Rick, who wants to share his name with the man his wife was potentially seeing behind his back? No, it was a variant of Heinrich for sure. After so many years of being taught to analyse, it seems to have backfired. He was thinking too much into this. Just drop the 'i' and switch the 'ch' with a 'k'. Henrik, his name was Henrik. Of course it was. How on earth could he have forgotten that? In response to Henrik revealing this to Jack, his soon-to-be friend bursts into a grin and offers his hand. As they shake hands, Jack declares it is nice to meet him. This was the second successful breakthrough for them. Both he and his wife had more solid identities. Now all that was left were his children. He later checks the same website Jack had used. From there, he can scan names and possibly ease the confusion. He feels like German names were the best starting point. He'd check out French names if he still had an identity missing. Things soon slot into place. First, there was Elias. He was nine now. An avid reader, he had an inexplicable interest for birds. He was in his element whenever he was exploring the great outdoors. Oh yes, that had certainly caused issues when he was younger and still yet to grasp the concept of not bringing nature inside with him. After him came Heidi, his five year old sister. It would seem she was beginning to show signs of a budding artist. He remembers the birthday where crayons were treated as if they were lottery winnings. In the sense it was a life changing possession. It wasn't long before that pack had been eroded by paper. And little Alina, the youngest at four years old. She was somehow was in possession of as much energy as the sun could produce. If she wasn't playing tag with her siblings, she was rifling through a dress up box or singing as loudly as she was able. Then there was her habit of tugging desperately at the hand holding hers in order to race across the street and greet the dog she'd spotted. Now that they are becoming closer, Jack asks for a favour. He understands Henrik is a busy man, what with being a doctor and all, but if he could spare a few minutes to check on a friend, Jack would greatly appreciate it. They've never had a medical professional they could send this ego to. Sure, Henrik nods, he'll do his best to fit him in. Angus astounds him. Nothing really seems to fit a diagnosis. While his symptoms may partially match certain ailments, there were always other symptoms related to those conditions that disproved Angus was suffering from said condition. His initial hypothesis had been chronic fatigue syndrome when he'd first heard about the daily lack of energy. However, symptoms of CFS included enlarged lymph nodes (Angus' were fine), joint pain without swelling (no such pain, swelling or not) and headaches (nope). He wasn't about to force a diagnosis on someone whose symptoms half fit. Angus was a medical enigma. Angus' condition was simply Angus' condition, it seemed. Henrik hates to disappoint Jack, as well as the others, but nothing particularly made sense. October proceeds fairly calmly. There are patients to care for at work and children to keep an eye on at home. On top of all that, Jackie and Marvin's burgeoning friendship caused them to train together. With Marvin's developing magic and Jackie's newfound superpowers, those training sessions added up to a few safety risks. Henrik supervised them in case of injuries whenever he had the time. Most of October is calm. It kind of falls at the last hurdle. Marvin pounds at his front door minutes after he returns from trick-or-treating. He is immediately rushed to the egos' home. Marvin hasn't been communicating the issue clearly. That is why he is shocked to learn of what had happened that evening. Jack had been recording a video where he carved a pumpkin. Simple enough. Until he slit his own throat. Okay, he had this. It was just a simple case of reconnecting any blood vessels and muscles needed before suturing the wound. Saving a man who had already bled out was so simple. So easy. At least it was only Jack's veins that were damaged. Internal jugular and interior thyroid, if he's not mistaken. Henrik works diligently. If anything, Jack deserves to be fixed before they- No, he is not losing another one. He'll pull a miracle out of his ass if he has to. Somehow, he does. Jack stabilises. He appears to recover faster than expected. Henrik can relax slightly and stop stressing about his friend's health. He would much rather focus on mundane things like whether Heidi would prefer her birthday cake to look like a hedgehog or caterpillar. If Henrik can put this whole ordeal behind him, that would be great. The situation complicates. He is home when Sean visits Jack, triggering an argument between the two. This in turn seems to have caused Jackie to wander off in an attempt to get away from it. And now the sixteen year old boy was missing. He can alert the police if they want. Otherwise, he's not sure how much help he can be. However, if they did find Jackie, please don't hesitate to tell him. He would need to check if he suffered any injuries while outside the safety of their home. The day marking 10 years since he married Leonie came around. He gets paged, meaning their celebratory meal out will have to be cancelled. Yes, he knows they've been planning this for months. 10 years, yep, there's no need to remind him. What did she expect him to do, not go to-? Oh, there she goes pulling the work card. She had a degree so why was he to blame for her not putting it to good use? It wasn't like he told her to go into a unpredictable field like interpreting. Maybe they would be happier if weren't living together? Ha! If they separated, she'd struggle to support herself and three children. They both knew that. Whatever, he had to go. Happy anniversary. He finds some reprieve in early December. A child's excitement to find St Nicholas has left chocolate coins in their shoes will never get old. Another added benefit to St Nicholas' Day is how diligently the girls clean their rooms in preparation. Elias is beginning to get to an age where the existence of Santa is being doubted. Nevertheless, he goes along with the tradition with as much anticipation as his sisters. It also causes him to take lead of the cleaning campaign which, again, saves Henrik or Leonie from further encouragement to get the house ready for the nightly visitor. Marvin brings home a cat in February. On a day where Leonie's schedule is packed but his is not, he takes the children to visit his friends. At times he has to encourage them to be gentle and approach Bastet carefully. She was a former stray after all and not entirely used to having a permanent home. Either way, the three of them adore the new addition. And Henrik himself had to admit she was a pretty girl. Things change in April when a young man arrives on his table. The patient had been brought in after sustaining a gun shot wound to the head, an apparent suicide attempt. The surgery is long and tough. There had to be a great deal of delicate precision to ensure minimal damage. Yet, in the end, it proves successful. He couldn't be more relieved. Henrik checks up on the patient after he regains consciousness. It doesn't escape his notice that Mr Brody bares resemblance to him and the rest of the egos. While conversing with him, he learns Brody has nowhere to go once he's released. Henrik leaves him an address which may help him. Breaking as little patient confidentiality as he can, he lets Jack know a visitor may arrive in the near future. It's surprises Brody when Henrik sees to him in his private clinic. Well, what can Henrik say? He's somewhat of the egos' personal doctor. Chase is a part of the group as much as the rest of them. Hence, Henrik was now in charge of overseeing Chase's wellbeing as well. The left arm worries him. While the rest of the brain seems unaffected by the incident, the site of the injury certainly wasn't left unscathed. With part of his premotor cortex damaged, it would appear the function in his left arm had become impaired. Physical therapy is recommended. The two men speak more often with the conversations turning less formal. He discovers the two of them have some things in common. They were both fathers with daughters the same age. In fact, Alina tells him all about her new friend Willow who'd recently joined her year group. Chase was going through a divorce and Henrik can certainly relate to being part of an imperfect marriage. They'd even become fathers and husbands at similar ages. Henrik's really starting to like Chase. He doesn't approve of the way he conducts himself at times but he's generally a good guy. He would say he's someone to grab a beer with. However, Chase's forming issues with alcohol were not something Henrik wished to endorse. Jack approaches him in June. Oh, he's returned to learning to German while the rest of the house slept? Jack didn't have to do that for him. Honestly, he is flattered. No, not flattered. Something stronger than flattered like... like moved. Jack secretly putting the effort in to surprise him had been moving. Still, there is some more practice required in terms of becoming fluent in the language. He and Jack aid each other in improving their linguistic skills in the others' native tongue. Jacques' arrival allows Henrik to strengthen his multilingualism even more. Now he could converse with Jack in German and Jacques in French. Everyone else, of course, spoke English around him, whether at work or in public. He wasn't complaining. Henrik did live in an English speaking country, after all. Once the artist settled in a little, perhaps he should invite him for dinner. Leonie would probably enjoy having someone else who was native to her own home country. He's quietly working in his own lab when Jack stumbles through the door. His friend barely gets a syllable out before gagging. Immediately, Henrik begins gathering observational evidence in an effort to diagnose. Gagging, especially when pairing with covering the mouth, indicated nausea. So that's already one symptom he can work with. Yes, he can work this out. He can help. For Jack, for his dear friend. He can't work it out. None of the symptoms seem to tell him anything. Deep vein thrombosis, blood clots and pulmonary embolism shared a connection. Chronic stress and nervous breakdown were closely linked to each other. The same went for Parkinson's disease and Dementia. But all of them together? No! It made no sense. What made it more difficult was the knowledge of Anti's presence. He lurks in the shadows. It began with his eye being itchy. Henrik hates the supposedly random sensation of pin and needles across his body. He keeps having lapses in attention. They likely only last a second but he can't afford to lose the time. Especially with it feeling warmer than it should in here. His arm plays up but he blames it on mood swings. He changes tactics, treating Jack as if he were in an emergency room. The momentary losses in focus occur more frequently now. But he won't give up. He almost lost Jack before, he refuses to lose him again. Even as his system begin to fail. No no no. Once one goes down, they all go down. He has to succeed. The buzz of staticky air grows. The demon is circling closer but he's not completely here yet. Henrik still has a chance. That is the hope, at least. It doesn't fully register when he giggles over the soon-to-be corpse. Over the patient. Over Jack. He is weak as he begs like the sad little puppet he is. No, he needs to buy himself more time. Where are the A̸͟ń͜t̡͞į-depressants? Antidepressants. He needs to depress Anti somehow. And why the hell was he wrapping a cord around his throat? He should n't try that again. He needs to find the an͠ti̡͘̕c̷͝ǫ͏͢a͡gu͡l҉á͡n̷ts̵. Anticoagulants. Stop it. Please. No. Nothing he does is helping. In the distance, he is given the privilege of hearing the magical assault on the door. Yes, please, for the love of god, help him. Help Jack too. ...Jack? No! No, Jack was his friend. He can't be dead. Open the door already. Come in and help save Jack. Come in and see the Bad Doctor who failed all his friends. But you'd better hurry up. The patient has no pulse and the doctor... Well, the doctor has places to be. Henrik's head spins upon being released. He thinks he cries that first night. Not because he's found himself with Anti indefinitely. Henrik has far more than a few choice words he'd like to direct to that demon. It's not that. It's the thought of his family, his friends, all those he loved. The egos will know what happened. They know full well he's with Anti now. Who else could have kidnapped him in a haze of static? But somebody's going to have to tell Leonie he's not coming home. And, in turn, she's going to have to tell the children. Henrik can't imagine how horrible that will be. Oh, and it's August, isn't it? No, no, no. Alina's birthday is just around the corner. He was going to head into town and buy her that cuddly tiger she kept going on about recently. He'd been so looking forward to seeing her face light up as she tore the paper and realised what it was. And now he- now he wasn't going to. Now he wouldn't see his loved ones for a long time. If ever. Please don't let it come to that. Anti has only ever had one known prisoner before. Said prisoner was taken 9 months ago. Well, at least Henrik knows he'll probably be here for a minimum of 9 months. He wonders if Jackie is still here. He hopes not. God forbid that boy is still suffering by Anti's hand. The most prominent way Anti welcomes him to imprisonment is confiscating his glasses. "Well, you won't need them.", he states. Hence why they were promptly destroyed into deformed plastic and glass shards. He tries not to fret about it. He's left in the darkness more often than not. Time blurs. The light is off. The light is on. Anti is there. Anti is somewhere else. He's aware of how long a human can typically go without food and water. So, it would seem, does his captor. When he least expects it, a figure stands in the hallway. The lights are flicked on to reveal an ego. As Henrik's eyes adjust, he takes in more of the visitor's details. Unhealthily thin, grinning in an unnatural manner and holding a hand firmly against his stomach. He is too young to be past his teen years. Without a doubt, this is Jackie. "Happy birthday, doctor. I thought it would be fun to redeem yourself. You do want to redeem yourself, don't you? You couldn't save Jack. Maybe you can save this one." A beat hasn't passed when the hand evacuated its present position, exposing the damage done. The inner contents are left subject to gravity. Anti laughs at Henrik's horror. With Anti relinquishing control, the emptied body returns to the state of a cadaver. Jackie just collapses on the spot. Henrik has no choice but to get to work immediately. During the procedure, Anti periodically uses Jackie as a receptacle. He giggles and taunts him as soon as the doctor is able to focus on what he is doing. Henrik struggles to ignore him. Tears threaten occasionally. He blinks them away. He has no time for them. He has a patient in front of him. He has to focus on that. Allowing his thoughts to stray from that will distract him too much. He can't spend a single second reflecting on how the patient may have gotten into this condition. He desperately hopes Jackie was dead before the first incision was made. It would too sickening to imagine enduring that while awake. Probably without anything to reduce the pain. But no, this is a cadaver. It may have been Jackie once. Not anymore. All he can do is restore the body to a more respectful condition. If he ever sees the others again, he doesn't know how he will be able to answer their questions about Jackie. God knows what Anti will do to the body after he is done operating. If Anti was in a solid form right now, Henrik might turn his instruments on him. Still, he eventually succeeds in replacing the organs. The heart does not beat. Nor do the lungs expand with breath. At least Jackie is whole again. Given the chance, Henrik would provide him with a respectful burial. Knowing Anti, he will likely discard the body with as much consideration as he would a crisp packet. Alone once more, Henrik is helpless to prevent the tide. The only blessing is Anti taking his frustrations out on him soon after. Apparently, Jackie had escaped. Henrik cannot conceive of a way someone who was dead yesterday could achieve that feat. Either way, the miracle gives him hope. He smiles to himself once his captor leaves him. If he is the single target of the glitch's aggression, he'll happily fulfil that role. So long as it keeps him from hunting for fresh blood. Especially Jackie. That boy has suffered enough. He deserves to keep his freedom. Anti comes to his room with a syringe. He claims he is only looking out for Henrik's immune system. Bullshit. If he really cared, he'd provide, at the very least, a decent diet. God knows what the syringe contained. Henrik isn't even sure how much managed to get through in the end. It was a flurry of limbs before the needle inevitably found its way to his arm. It is practically forgotten about by the time he has reason to remember. With the weariness and fever, he's convinced it's the flu. Lights irritate him now too. However, once the rash appears, he knows it's not so simple. He updates his diagnosis. Measles. Why on earth did Anti feel compelled to infect him with that disease? To prove he can? Well, congratulations, he's sick. He hopes Anti is proud of his achievement. Anti delivers a patient for him to work on. It is likely someone off the street. And despite Henrik's own poor health, he was expected to operate on them. An experiment, Anti says. Henrik's life's work was based on science. Well, who said Anti couldn't conduct some science of his own? Every now and again, Anti would bring some poor soul to 'repair'. Almost always it would be Anti who had caused the damage. It would also be during the times the doctor had artificially been made sick. He thinks Anti revelled in watching him struggle to fight his own symptoms to be professional. Not to mention the possible hope he'd unintentionally cause infected wounds. Anti loved to 'ensure it wouldn't happen again'. Like the demon cared about those people's health. He simply wanted an excuse to physically punish him for misdemeanours. Another time, he burns as he shivers. His muscles wish to give up on him due to the pain and fatigue. He is unable to pin a specific diagnosis. He knows better than to wonder if it is influenza. Anti wouldn't bother with something so trivial. Henrik is unsure what his current illness is until mosquitos are mentioned. Oh, okay. So it's like that, huh. He suffers several repercussions thanks to the malaria. Surprisingly, being severely ill takes a lot out of you. Trust Anti to bastardize Christmas. With December approaching, it is once again time for Saint Nicholas to pay his children a visit. Anti promises to leave them his own type of gift. Henrik is half aware as he trespasses on his own property. In the living room, he is caught while leaving his message. The second Henrik recognises Alina, his heart yearns to have control long enough to touch her. What he would give to cuddle her and promise he'll be home again, as himself, one day. Hopefully soon. However, that was impossible with Anti's presence. The demon delights in her discovery. He dirties her shoes to encourage tears. She is too enthralled by the sight of her Papa to react the way he wants. Despite not having horns, Anti claims to be Krampus. Their family didn't even incorporate that figure into their celebrations. Henrik could never recall which companion St Nicholas travelled with when he was younger so their home did without the extension of the tradition. He and Leonie usually just based how much chocolate they gave the children on how much effort they put into the preparations. If you're going to ruin the holiday for the fun of it, at least show the culture enough respect to ruin it properly. Anti feels the height of winter is the perfect time to conduct another test. He abandons Henrik in the room naturally closest to freezing. His shivers gradually shift to confusion and reduced motor skills. He has a delayed reaction to his captor approaching. He claims to be here to warm him, directing to a bath. There is a high probability that the water is a decent temperature by regular standards. That does not stop him from having to silence himself and not cry out. He attempts to avoid the water. His lack of control when it came to his limbs causes him to struggle with that. The process is repeated with varying alterations to the conditions. Anti is happy when he observes him remove his shirt without full awareness of the consequences. Also, was it him or was the water getting more scalding with every trip? Anti unexpectedly drags him to his feet one day. He's being taken somewhere. Where, he has no clue. Anti wouldn't tell him and he's aware it's best if he doesn't ask questions. In front of a house, he is dumped to the ground. The one who has made his life a misery for the past several months shrugs. "I've got a better deal. Why would I waste my time you anymore?" With that, Anti leaves, granting Henrik the chance to get a better look at the house he's been abandoned outside of. Wasn't this the egos' home? Yes, it was! This was his last known location before being kidnapped. Through that door were all his friends. Some 10 minutes walk from here was his family. He'll be able to see them all again. He's... free. At least, he hopes he is. This could all be some cruel trick. However, he'll fall for it if there is even a chance of briefly see his loved ones. A man in a blue vest answers the door. Looks like Sean has been creating again. Marvin and Chase both startle at the sight of him. They are eager to assure him they tried to save him back in August. He's aware and thanks them for their efforts. Jackie instead descends into hysterics. It's understandable. The last time they'd seen each other, Jackie had been dead. When things calm down a little, he is introduced to Robbie, Shawn and Jameson. He learns of Dr Jacksepticeye's existence but honestly, that is the least of his concerns. He needs to see how Jack is doing. He's seen plenty of people unconscious in hospital beds. This is different. This is a friend. When Henrik asks how the others have been caring for him, they explain they've been doing their best to keep him stable. That had been where Dr Jacksepticeye came in. He learns it is early May, meaning he's been gone for 9 dreadful months. Chase offers to go with him as he returns home. It's comforting to have a familiar presence accompanying him. Chase won't say much about Elias or his sisters. 'They can tell you in person', he assures the father who can't get home fast enough. Once the two of them reach the house, the most Chase does is ring the doorbell. When Leonie answers, the younger man smiles. "Guess who I found." Leonie can't hug Henrik hard enough. He can't muster the courage to loosen his hold on her either. Even if the force she's exerting isn't gentle, he's grateful he's simply able to have her arms around him in the first place. She tells him to wait for her to pick their children up from school. Before she sets out from the door, she hands him a top and tracksuit bottoms. It's what he wore when he'd had an impossibly long shift. It's normality. Moreover, it's not the scrubs he's been stuck with for nine months. Elias hangs back, refusing to believe it. Leonie makes an unnecessary comment about Henrik returning in time for their son's birthday. Oh yes, he deliberately came home for Elias' birthday. The one furthest from August. Did she think he wanted to miss either of Heidi or Alina's birthdays? Still, he went missing shortly before one birthday and returned shortly before another's. That was something. His son eventually is released from his stupor when he sees his sisters embracing their father. Heidi is unsure how to react either. She approaches him slowly, as if she's unsure he's truly there. Alina racing past her encourages her to trust reality. It's a good thing he has two arms. Alina doesn't waste a second gawping. She sprints at full speed in her school uniform. The entire weekend is spent being dragged away to read. She's five now. She's able to read simple sentences. He'd been looking forward to reading books with her, the same as he had with her siblings, but this... this was so much more special than he could have imagined it would be a year ago. Ten days following his return, he stands in the kitchen of the egos' home. He sips coffee as he watches the others go about their day. He's been monitoring Marvin after a visit to his Grandmom resulted in stomach issues. Chase heads out the door, off to bring his children home for the weekend. It's only later that they realise they never should have let the vlogging father leave.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #henrik von schneeplestein #creator au #my writing #writersofjack #tw gore #tw kidnapping #tw illness #tw death mention #tw medical procedures #okay the captivity part is pretty weak #you can tell I used all my good ideas for Jackie's captivity #that said I am quite proud of how the KJSE bit came out #so yeah... I tried

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chrsitophwaltz · 5 years ago

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MICKEY MEETS FC BAYERN (PART 3/4)

for the entire houston clownery experience click here

psa: excuse my face and the pic qualities. up until this happened i haven’t really taken pictures of myself (less than 10 in the past two years for family and work purposes and NEVER selfies) and when you meet people you’ve only seen on TV in a very unexpected circumstance, then don’t expect your brain and motor functions to work 100%.

just an addition that i forgot to add in the last two parts: i didn’t get his pic or anything, but seeing Witch Doctor™ müller-wohlfahrt in person was insane. if you watch netflix’s dark season 2, and see 1986 ulrich nielsen, THAT’S WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE SDHBMFSDMNBFNMB

anyway, so i uber-ed to the mall. thank god it was only 5 minutes or so away from the hotel since i was really desperate to get a wristband for adidas. the t-mobile meet with josh and sven didn’t require wristbands, but there was gonna be a line and time’s limited and they might (and they did) cut it off at some point. thankfully, the mall just opened (ish) and i got wristband #53 for adidas. score! i also confirmed thrice with the guy that as long as i have the wristband i can get in. nice!

after getting the wristband, i went up to get in line for t-mobile. thankfully, i was within the first 5 or so people so i can do both meet-and-greets!

multi-tasking! you love to hear it!

i met up with @simplyirenic and a guy named nick who we met at the hotel reception a few days before and chatted to pass the time. finally it was around 1:30 to 2pm and the mall was packed with bayern fans. it was sad to see people, especially little kids, trying to line up for adidas but had to be turned away since the wristbands ran out already.

after a few line games and waves with the t-mobile people, we finally got inside the store to start the meet. while i was waiting my turn and praying that my phone doesn’t die (i only had 8% battery life left at that point), i saw richie (one of bayern’s media guys) and some guy named greg (thought he was with bayern at first, but now i’m not sure) and told them my ulterior motive for the t-mobile thing. they understood and saw that i was about to pass out from fear and anxiety and told me they’d include the footage in the final video. they weren’t kidding sbfdsnmfbmfbdsmfdb (got a gif of it here)

so. it was finally my turn and sven hasn’t looked up yet since he was signing more cards and chatting with josh. i creeped up behind them and said “hallo!” josh was so cute and perky and said “hallo!” back. sven looked like he didn’t recognize me (thank god) but i just couldn’t let it pass so as we were having our pics taken, i put my hand on his back and mumbled (while trying to smile for the cameras): “hey, i don’t know if you remembered in the hotel earlier, but i’m really sorry. i meant to take a picture with you AND leon. sorry!” i don’t know if he remembered it at all or was just being nice, but all the same he said “no, it’s okay!”

i didn’t care. BLESS HIM! my day is saved! so we said cheese one last time before i left.

extra notes: i also wanted to tell him that his red card was BS but didn;t have time for that lmao. also josh is such an angel and his hair was so fluffy and blonde i wanted to die ;__;

i said goodbye to richie and greg and waited for nick (he also had a wristband) and we went down to get in line for adidas. while lined up i met more bayern fans (hello @zomgannalolz and @alex-bregman!). fangirled with them for a bit (and showed them my niko ass videos from the night before sdjnhdnfbdn) and finally we were in! from afar, i could only see manu bc he was standing up (benji and thomas were sitting down) and he was wearing his bright watermelon keeper kit. finally my turn came and said hi to benji again. he signed my shirt (again; he already signed it at the hotel reception) and we took pics (again). SERVUS BENJI!

next up was manu (again)!

me: hi manu, it’s me again

manu: oh hello! the hotel right?

me: *dying that he recognized me and thinking about that near-knockout experience* yessssss

he signed my shirt (again lmao) and we posed for pics. he was so. freaking. tall. i put my arm around him and half my brain was floating and making observations:

1. wrow. he tall. as h e l l.

2. the keeper jersey has a different feel than the normal outfield player jersey. hmmm (scratchier and more... cellophane-y....?)

3. my face is literally pressed up against his right boob. n o i c e

4. my left arm is around his waist. i can feel nice ridges. holy shit. SI D E A BS !!!!!! *scream*

yeah, it was an out-of-body-experience. i also nearly forgot to take his autograph card but he subtly inserted it into my hand as i was leaving. I LUFF U MANU!!!!

it’s probably poetic that my meet-and-greet ended with thomas. he’s my favorite player and i have his jersey. first time he signed it it only had 4 other signatures (at the hotel reception), and the second time was earlier that day at the hotel (with him eating a huge ass banana). i came up to him and he was like “hey!” HE RECOGNIZED ME I JUST----

anyway, i tried to keep it cool and said “yeah it’s me again from the hotel lmao” and he was like “so do you want a third signature?” (he saw he already had two sigs in the jersey). i didn’t care and said “if you want to! i don’t mind!”he reviewed it and quietly said “wow” when he saw my almost-full bayern haul (my jersey was full of autographs by then) and said “let’s just put it up, yes?”

he wanted to put up my müller jersey! thomas freakin’ müller himself wanted to show my jersey! tbh it was a great idea lmao so i said “cool! okay!”

i was literally the happiest binch in the world!!!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!! keep deuter-ing that raum, Raumdeuter!!!!!!!

in the end, with the exception of david (i’m sad, i really wanted pics with alabae), phonzie (saw him a couple times, but never got to him), renato (i always miss him for some reason!!!!), and c*man (i don’t really want anything from him anyway, except maybe goals, so doesn’t really count lmao), plus the other bayern kids, i got everyone!!!!!!

BEST. DAY. EVER. from despairing literally just the night before about wasting my one day extension, to unexpectedly getting more than i bargained for-- the ULTIMATE mega fan experience-- it was just insane. they’re all really nice and accommodating too! that’s how i know i support the best club ever (even if they’re such clowns sometimes but oh well lmao)

now, one last part to go. the actual best (and WORST) part of everything. if you’ve followed me for more than an hour then i don’t need to explain to you just how much i needed to get just ONE CRUMB of niko fucking kovac. and boy oh boy did i get a lil bit more than that......👀

#PART 3 IS DONE AND UP!!!!!!!! NOW Y'ALL KNOW WHAT'S UP NEXT SDHFBSDMFBDS #manuel neuer #thomas müller #joshua kimmich #fc bayern #bayern munich #fcb #*my crappy shit #mickey meets fcb #benjamin pavard #sven ulreich #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!#if y'all ever get the chance to see them don't hesitate!#they're super nice and it's worth it <3 #ANYWAY ON TO T H A T PART..........#also thanks to the girl who took my pics at adidas she got almost all the interactions dshfsdfbsdjfb

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claimedcrossbows · 5 years ago

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The Big Setup (Bellarke Fanfic)

So I also posted this on my Fanfiction account under MsPlotTwister, so if you want to read it there you can do that as well. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13591315/1/The-Big-Setup

Anyway here’s the first Chapter, Tell me what you think and if I should continue.

Description: Clarke Griffin just wants to do her job as New York's Matchmaker but working side by side with her infuriating Ex Husband Bellamy Proves to be a difficult task. "Oh my God." Clarke gasps looking at the news. "What?" Bellamy asks looking at the news of a escaped convict. "Don't panic..But I think I just set my client up with a criminal!" She yells. "What?"

The sound of an alarm wakes her and she already knows this is going to be a very long day. But she was excited none the less. She might not have much in life at the moment, but her job was something she always looked forward too.

With that enthusiasm and a cup of coffee she gladly approached the day by looking through her phone at the schedule she had layed out for today.

She looked at the email of one of her current clients and some of the pictures they had sent and she knew she had her hands full with this one

She quickly got dressed and headed out to her office where she was more than excited to finally meet her client.

Clarke Griffin was a strange woman in many ways.

Her enthusiasm seemed to stay on a 10, her mind was constantly coming up with new ideas, and to top it off she was a very paranoid woman with many trust issues.

At least that’s what people mostly said about her who knew her.

But then again..How could she trust them?

Her out look on life was to remain positive, until of course something goes awry, then its time to panic.

And panic she did.

She was stuck in traffic in the busiest streets of New York and her appointment was in less than 5 minutes!

“Isn’t there anything you can do!?” She shrieked at her taxi driver who was struggling to keep from rolling his eyes. But he had told this woman for what must’ve been the 10th time since she got in the car that there’s nothing he can do about the traffic conditions. Apparently their had been some really bad accident and the police had blocked off the streets. Pretty much delaying everyone who had somewhere to be.

“Uhg!” Clarke sighed looking at her phone at the time.

She released a sigh and quickly fished around in her purse for some cash, “Here this should cover it, i’m walking the rest of the way.” She said tossing him the money and quickly dashing out the taxi before the driver could even say anything.

Clarke quickly ran the rest of the way to her place of work and was regretting her decision of wearing heels because her feet were crying for an ice pack.

Clarke struggled to catch her breath as she entered the building which was actually nothing more than a condo that her Aunt had bought in order to launch her match making business.

Yep you heard that right.

Clarke Griffin is a professional matchmaker, people email their company and give them their background information including medical records, criminal history, finance history and just about everything else you could imagine. They contact local family members and friends and get a good idea about you and then see if there’s anyone in their data base they could potentially set you up with. But if you think that is extreme they also specialize in makeovers as well, which happens to be right up Clarke’s alley, every since she was a kid she dreamed of being a fashion designer for celebrities. She wanted to see them walking down the red carpet in her fashion ideas, so she went to school as a Designer but of course getting into the industry of fashion in a place such as New York City was incredibly difficult. New York had as many fashion designers as they did Lawyers and Doctors.

So that’s when she went to her Aunt Diyoza when she heard that she was thinking about making a Match Making Company from her very own condo.

She’s been working their every since.

The only drawback is, there wasn’t many employees so Clarke was basically running things by herself.

Okay scratch that.

There wasn’t any employees, and Clarke was definitely running things by herself.

The only other person currently working there (who’s name she refused to mention) was currently on a leave of absence (busy partying all night and day) and he never shows up.

That was until today.

“Clarke there you are.” The all to familiar voice said from the couch as he paused his video game to look at her dishelved appearance.

“Bellamy what the hell are you doing here?” She groaned, her mood worsening.

“Diyoza called me in, said we got a lot of new customers and she needs me back, I mean I can’t blame her, I am the best employee she’s got here.” He Smirked.

“Look I don’t have time for this, I have a client coming in a few minutes and-”

“Oh you mean Izzy?” He said, “Yeah she already came, I set her up with Murphy, she seems like his type.” He shrugged unpausing his game.

“You what!?” Clarke yelled.

He paused his game, knowing that she wasn’t going to let this go and turned to her giving her a shrug. “What you should be happy, I gave you the day off.” He said not knowing why she didn’t look grateful.

“Izzy is a vegetarian, Murphy isn’t!” Clarke said angrily.

“Okay, well maybe this is a good opportunity for Murphy to stop ordering KFC for dinner every night.” He shrugged not seeing the issue.

“Izzy is a sweet pollite girl, and Murohy…Well he’s Murphy!” Clarke huffeed.

Bellamy sighed running his hands through his long dark curly hair something she had loved doing once, but now the very sight of him made her nauseated.

“Uhg you make me sick.” Clarke frowned feeling the nausea build up.

“Oh yeah, here.” He said pulling something out of his jacket pocket and giving it to her.

Clarke looked at it and was surprised and irritated to see that it was a bottle of tums.

“You always say you feel ill around me, so I thought that might help.” He said smirking a mischievous look spreading through his face.

“My stomach isn’t the problem, its you.” Clarke huffed setting the tums on the table.

“Look I thought this would make you happy, I mean now you have the night off, you can relax, hang out with friends, maybe go on a date.” He said throwing that last bit in to see how she reacted.

“You know good and well i’m not dating anyone right now.” Clarke rolled her eyes at his attempt to pry into her love life.

“Really? With such a wonderful attitude I can’t imagine why.” He said sarcastically.

“You don’t get to pry into my love life, if you don’t remember, you divorced me.” Clarke spat.

“There it is, the constant reminder every time I see you, that I divorced you, Yes I divorced you Clarke, because you are a total hyperactive nut case.” He said bluntly.

“And your a playboy bachelor who wouldn’t know priorities if it bit you in the ass.” She spewed.

“Isn’t it ironic, the Match Maker can’t find a man of her own.” Bellamy rebutted.

Clarke shook her head tired of arguing with him, she walked to her office and made sure to slam the door shut to emphasize that she wasn’t happy.

She walked over to her laptop and immediately began sifting through customers who were in desperate need to find their special someone. She looked at a few of their backgrounds and started thinking of potential matches off the top of her head.

She was about to email one of her clients and tell them she might have a match for him when suddenly her door opened and a very uneasy Bellamy came in.

“What do you want Bellamy?” Clarke sighed not in the mood for any more of his help.

“There’s someone out there your gonna wanna see.” He said.

“Who?” Clarke asked standing up.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said.

To say she was now beyond curious was a understatement, so she got up and followed him to the living room where she was met with someone she didn’t think she would ever see come through her doors.

Roan Atwood.

Famous Male Model and Actor Roan Atwood who had been missing for 5 years was standing before the both of them looking a complete and total disaster, his hair was greasy and disheveled, his clothes were dirty and in shreds and she could smell the whisky from across the room. She looked at Bellamy in complete shock and his expression nearly mirrored hers and it was in that moment she knew this was going to be the biggest set up they ever did.

#Bellarke #Fanfic #Bellamy #Clarke #The100 #Romace #Humor

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natashaashleymarvelromanoff · 5 years ago

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I'm So Glad You’re Back - Chapter 5

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Epilogue

See you in a minute

After Tony had refused to help them with their plan, Scott and Natasha made their way to find Bruce. Or professor hulk as he was called now. It was still a little strange to see Bruce as the hulk but she'd gotten used to it by now. However, Scott was mesmerised. She even had to elbow him a few times since he lost concentration because he was staring at Bruce so much. She supposes to be fair on his part he hadn't actually met Bruce before so seeing him like this would have been a lot to process.

They had met in the diner for lunch and told Bruce about their plans, Bruce had been more than happy to help them. He understood how his friends must have been feeling and he too would do anything to get their lost friends back.

….

Now back at the compound the next day, Bruce, Scott and Natasha had set up some equipment that attached to Scott's ugly brown van and Bruce had set up his station to control where Scott's presence in the quantum realm so that he didn't get lost.

But once they started up the machine and sent Scott into the quantum realm. It went a little wrong. Okay, maybe a lot wrong. Somehow they managed to turn Scott into a teenager, old man and baby before they had to cut the power and bring the normal Scott back.

As Bruce and Scott argued about how to fix the technical equipment to make it work, Natasha left the room. Opening the doors to the outside hangar, the Russian walked over to one of the pillars, leaned against it and let out a deep sigh. She felt defeated.

How were they supposed to get everyone back if they couldn't even help Scott travel safely through the quantum realm?

Maybe all this was a lost cause. She thought.

Deep in her unhopeful thoughts, Natasha didn't notice the car pulling down the driveway until it was a few yards away. Whipping her head up at the sound of the engine, the redhead instantly recognised the sleek Audi as Tony's.

Pulling up alongside her, Tony parked the car, got out and walked over to her.

“So let me guess. You turned Scott into a baby?” the genius sniggered at her with a smirk on his face.

Jutting her chin to the side in annoyance since she knew Tony was right, the first female avenger nodded and rolled her eyes at him.

Tony’s smirk getting even bigger he also laughed a little louder which in turn, made Natasha give in to laughing too.

“Yeah, and an old man. I don't think its gonna work tony.” Still smiling at the events from a few minutes ago, Natasha voiced her worries to tony, her smile faulting slightly.

“Well that's a shame, I guess I'll just head home them and not share my super awesome time travel plans with you, you know since I figured it out.”

As tony turned to walk back to his car, Natasha's eyes widened. Only realising what her friend had said.

"What did you just say?” Almost running the short distance between her and Tony, she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, but she was also in disbelief.

"I figured it out nat. I know how to time travel, and it's completely safe.” his brown eyes beamed at her when he told Natasha. He still couldn't believe it himself, to be honest.

If it wasn't for that picture of Peter he had saved in his kitchen, he doesn't think he ever would have tried to figure it out.

When he saw that picture it stirred some feelings inside of him. He loved that kid. Tony knew he never said it but he did. Yeah, he was annoying at times and was a pain in the ass but he loved the kid. It hurt to even think about him. Of course after he got back from space he had asked about his aunt may and friends, but unfortunately, they hadn't made it. Tony still felt guilty to this day. And he was sure if it was any other time he saw that picture of the two of them he would have just thought about Peter and put it back down. But Scott and Natasha's words had stuck with him all day. That photo. That photo was his reason to at least try and he did.

"Oh my god. You did it? wait. I thought you said you didn't want any part in this?” Natasha hopeful face transformed into a confused one.

“I know, but then I realised you were right. As much as I hate to admit that to your stupid face. We have a chance again. After 5 years and we should take it. But Tasha, if we're gonna do this, we need to make sure that we don't change anything. I don't want to risk losing the life I have now. And I'm sure you don't want to either.” Tony really hated admitting she was right, and naturally, she was loving it, listening to his words with a smirk of her face.

"Of course, I don't. I don't want to lose anything either. All I want is to bring everyone back.” Natasha's face softened as she watched tony.

"Okay then. Let's get started.”

As tony shuffled backwards to go to the boot of his car, Natasha stopped in her place, only just realising that something was missing. Or rather someone.

“Wait. Wheres James?”

“Oh yeah I forgot to tell you, I figured since we were gonna build a time machine it would be best to not have a 5-year-old running around near it just in case we lost him in the 1700s by accident.” Tony joked at her. Laughing at him, Natasha just agreed with him. He was right. She didn't want James near any of it just in case something went wrong.

Then after she had laughed at him, Tony pulled something out of his boot. Natashas breath caught in her throat as she instantly recognised the rounded surface.

Steve shield.

“I figured if we're gonna do this, you should have this. I don't know why I didn't give it back to you before but I guess better late than never.

You don't have to use it of course, but I just thought to have this on you, it would almost feel like he's there with you.”

Taking the large shield of him, Natasha felt her eyes brimming. She tried to sniff her nose to keep them from falling and she flashes the genius a smile. She remembered the last she saw it, back in Germany. Nearly 7 years ago now. Even though she wanted to take it with her on their mission, she knew she couldn't. It was steves shield, if something happened to her she didn't want to take it.

“Thank you, Tony.” She told him, in the sincerest voice she could. She really was thankful.

Tony and Natasha let themselves back inside where Tony explained he had figured out how to time travel. After a few hours. The 4 had the beginning of a plan. First, get everyone back on earth, then build the machine inside the hangar. They didn't have a solid plan on what to do exactly once they had built the time machine but a vague plan was formed to get the stones first before Thanos could get them.

As the boys got on with building the time machine, Natasha made video calls to all of their fellow Avengers and Guardians. She didn't explain in detail but Natasha had told them that they had a new plan on how to get everyone back and she would explain when they got here. Unfortunately, she couldn't reach carol but once Carol saw her video calls she was sure her son’s aunt would come as soon as possible.

Rocket and Nebula where the first ones to come back home as well as Rhodey.

Herself, Scott, Tony and Bruce explained to them all their plan. Most of them are sceptical at first but once Tony had explained that the details and that he was confident it would work, they accepted it. It also helped that rocket was on board with the plan and was also confident that it would work.

That left only Clint and Thor. Once Rhodey had returned to the compound he had informed Natasha that he thinks he knows where Clint is. This is the closest they have gotten to finding him. It was either now or never.

Natasha took the opportunity immediately. If anyone was going to get him it was going to be her. She hadn't seen him in 5 years. She had missed him so much. He was her oldest friend in this world and Natasha was determined to bring him back, and hopefully telling him about their new plan would convince him.

Since it had been nighttime where Thor was when they had been building the machine, she couldn't call him until it was the day for him, but since she was on her way to Tokyo she had Bruce make the call instead. Bruce had informed her that Thor would be at the compound by the end of the day. Natasha was relieved to hear it. She knew Thor had been depressed since the snap and she tried her best to make him feel better. She'd been there before so if there was anything she could do to help one of her closest friends she would.

…..

Arriving in Tokyo Natasha turned on the Quinjet's stealth mode, to make sure Clint wouldn't hear or see her and run.

As she walked through the alleyway littered with bodies Natasha approached the former archer. Now known as Ronin to his victims and enemies.

His back was turned to her as she stepped closer, then when she stopped, her oldest friend removed his hood. She couldn't help but think he looked different. His hair. His face. His eyes. They were the eyes of a distraught man. A man who had lost his entire family. But no matter what he had done, no matter what happened Clint would always be her friend and she would never judge him on his actions. He never judged her, instead, he saved her all those years ago. And she was just about to return that favour.

Natasha knew she maybe treading on eggshells when she moved closer to him but she needed him to know she still loved him. After all this time, She was finally speaking to him again.

“Clint. Killing all these people isn't going to bring your family back. We found something. A chance maybe…” her voice was soft, the same voice she used to speak to James when he was sad.

"Don't” Clint's voice was harsh as he spoke. The first words she had hear him say in 5 years.

"Don't what?”

“Give me hope” his voice broke. Throughout the years he had held onto hope that one day his wife and children would come back, but as time and time went on, he lost that hope. Clint didn't know if he could handle having that hope ripped away from him again.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner” she took another step closer. Just an arm's length away. The colourful neon signs were their only source of light as the former spy looked at her friend. Slowly raising her arm, she took Clint's hand in her own. Trying her best to comfort him right now.

It took a few minutes for Clint to agree to leave with her, but once he did they both made their way to the quinjet and set course to the compound in New York.

The ride home wasn't too long since they had taken the quinjet, but Clint had been near enough quiet the entire time. She had spoken to him and he had just listened. Natasha told him about their friends, who had survived and who didn't. The guardians and Carol who were their space team. But she neglected to mention James and morgan. Natasha didn't think telling him about her son and Tony's daughter would be the best idea, especially since he had lost his own kids and was still mourning for them.

Once the two former assassins arrived back at the compound they were greeted by their team and thor who had arrived just a few hours before them.

Thor had looked quite sad when Clint laid eyes on him, he still kinda looked the same since the last time he saw him, but his long hair was slightly scruffier like he hadn't brushed it in a while and he looked smaller if that was even possible. It was almost like he’d lost some of the bulk of his muscle. But once the god's eyes landed on nat, they lit up, with a smile on his face to accompany them. He almost considered it strange at first until he realised that they probably kept in contact for the past few years. Natasha had told him about what happened to Thor before Thanos came. It didn't surprise him after that, that the god and Natasha would be close.

After greeting Thor with a smile and a big bear hug, Natasha made it a point to notice how far their time travel machine was coming on and impressively they had almost finished thanks to Rockets help. Natasha figured him and Tony would get this done quick, not that Bruce wasn't a big help but he was a bit too big to get into the smaller details although he did do most of the heavy lifting and Scott helped with the engineering, when he volunteered to do it everyone had given him a quizzical look, until he reminded everyone about his degrees.

This was it, they were almost there. Not long now.

It had been so long since Clint had been at this stupid compound. Now that he thinks about it, it has been almost 7 years. He remembered setting of the alarms off base so he could get wanda out. Wanda. It hurt to know she had gone too. He felt responsible for her after her brother sacrificed himself for him, she was so young too. He almost thought of her as a daughter.

As he followed Natasha through the compound to the common room, Clint got lost in his thoughts, thinking about all of his friends. It wasn't until his foot kicked something on the floor that he was broken out of his trance.

Looking down, Clint noticed that the thing he had kicked was a toy? Furrowing his eyebrows he stared at the child's toy in confusion.

Natasha had walked further on than him into the kitchen, not noticing his frozen posture.

As clint stared at the toy at his feet, the father of 3 started to notice more toys. They almost littered the floor if It wasn't for a box in the corner that had been placed there to keep them tidied away.

There were crayons scattered across the table, drawings covering the walls. Toy cars on the floor placed to look like they were racing each other. As clint looked around the room his eyes started to well. Seeing all these toys, it reminded him of home. His kids. Cooper, Lila and Nate.

Natasha hadn't noticed clint had stopped to stare at the toys in the room until she turned around to hand him a cup of coffee. Stopping instantly in her tracks she grimaced at the look on her friends face. She didn't even think about James's toys when they had come back.

“Nat. who’s toys are these?”

Moving her feet so she could walk closer to clint, Natasha stopped in front of him. Placing the two cups onto the table, Natasha took a breath and looked him in the eye with a small smile on her face.

“They're my son’s.”

“What?” she had a son? That didn't make any sense. He thought she couldn't- Clint's eyebrows knitted themselves together even further, obviously curious about her answer.

“About a month after the snap, I found out I was 2 months pregnant.”

“2 months? But that means you got pregnant when you were- oh.” Clint's sudden realisation made him lose his voice. If she was pregnant when the snap happened, it meant she conceived the baby before. And before the snap, her sam and Steve were on the run together.

He knew that nat and Sam had just been friends and that's all. But Steve, nat and Steve were possibly even closer than him and her. They had been partners during shield. They had run the Avengers as co loaders after Ultron. And she had betrayed tony for him during the battle in Germany. He had no doubt, that Natasha's child was Steves. No doubt at all.

“Yeah” Natasha nodded at his silent conclusion. She leaned over to a cabinet at the side of the room and pulled a picture frame from it. The redhead passed it over to her friend for him to see.

It was a picture of her and James. She was pretty sure it had been pepper that took it one Christmas, James had a smile as big as a Cheshire cat on his face as she held him in her arms, both wearing garish red and green sweaters that lit up. A gift from tony of course.

“His name is James. James Samuel Clinton Rogers.” clients breath caught in his throat as he heard his name. She gave her son his name?

“Congratulations nat. Really. I know you would never admit it but I know you always wanted this. Even when you believed you could never have it. I'm really happy for you, and Steve. I know he isn't here but I know he’d to be so happy for you too.” as he finishes his sentence, Clint actually smiles at her. This was the first time she had seen him smile since she got him back. And she's guessing its probably the first time he's smiled in a long time. Leaning in she wraps her arms around her oldest friend embracing him into a hug. Clint was hesitant at first to receive the gentle contact. He hadn't been hugged in years. But once he felt the familiar feeling of safety with his friend, he instantly returned the gesture with the picture frame still in his hand..

“We're gonna do this Clint. We are. We're gonna get them back.” After pulling back from their hug Natasha reassured him of their goal. He nodded at her words to make her feel better but honestly, he was still trying to not give too much hope to the idea. Truthfully he was terrified that if he focused all his efforts and hope into bringing his family back and he failed, that he would completely lose himself and the man he was would never return. No matter who came to save him.

…..

It didn't take the Avengers long to work out a solid plan. With the help of everyone in the room, they figured out exactly where the stones had been before Thanos had taken them and even narrowed it down so that they didn't have to make multiple jumps

The plan was clear.

Jump back to the past. Get the stones. Do not let anything that already happened change. Jump back to the present. Use the stones with the new gauntlet. Bring everyone back. Return the stones to exactly where they got them from.

Sounds easy enough right? That's what they thought.

As Tony and nebula finished making the last of the bracelets for the team. The rest of the gang were planning on who would go to which destination to collect the stones.

Tony, Scott and Bruce would travel to 2012, during Loki's attack on New York to get the time, mind, and space stone.

Thor and rocket would go to Asgard in 2014. The same time Jane had been possessed by the reality stone.

Then Rhodey, Nebula, Natasha and Clint would jump to 2014 too. But rhodey and nebula would go after the power stone on Morag and Natasha and clint would fly the Benetar to Vormir, collecting the soul stone.

“Sounds good. Anyone wanna back out before its too late?” Clint questioned. Suddenly 9 pairs of eyes started to shift around the room, interested to see if anyone would do as Clint said.

But no one did. This was it. They finally had a chance, after 5 excruciating years of giving up hope. they were finally going to bring everyone they loved back.

…..

9 bodies stood on the platform around the time machine. 9 nervous people who wanted to bring their family back, and would do whatever it takes to do it.

They had all been silent with worry as they stood on the time machine. Natasha noticed the looks on her friend's faces and spoke up.

“5 years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family and we lost a part of ourselves. Today we get a chance to take it all back. Remember your missions. Stick with your teams. Don't let anything mess this up. If you can, try to avoid changing anything that could affect us. We don't get do-overs. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight our lives. And we're going to win, whatever it takes. Does everyone understand.”

As she looked around at her team she saw each one nod at her. Following their orders from their captain. It was strange to be in charge of a team again, considering the last time she was it was with Steve, and with different teammates. But she fell right back into her old position.

“Shes really good at that huh?” Rocket piped up, making Natasha smirk at the little racoon.

Looking down from his height, Scott smiled at Rocket and agreed. He really was a big fan of the Avengers. Kiss ass.

“Okay, let's do this.” Tony said as they all punched in their coordinates and bruce activates the timer on the control panel. Then they waited for Friday to count down from ten, Natasha gave a final look to her team before they jumped and smiled as she said.

“See you in a minute.”

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