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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year

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throttle | jjk - three

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - car sex (yay), talk of wet dreams, jaykay is down so incredibly bad, talk of buying a fuck toy just to cope with how much he wants YOU, reader on top, unprotected sex, huge cawk jk, missionary (in a car! very cramped!! but he does it for YOU <3), jk is chatty during sex (like, actually chatty), mentions of politics, mentions of drugs, the plot is plotting, jin is sexy, namjoon is a prick, jungkook is losing his god damn mind, OH and! the oc is given a nickname - she's CC (ceecee) he he he

word count - 7.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

There's a symbiotic nature to the way in which your bodies move together.

You're the moon, Jungkook your tides.

You work in tandem to turn the earth, finding peace in the rhythm that you provide one another. He'll reflect your beauty back at you, and you'll drag him to the shores; offer him respite that he didn't realise he needed until you came around.

It's a fantastical way to think about it, whimsical and ridiculous, but it's the only way that any justice is given to it.

Foolish, some may say, to compare a man to such a vast and complex ecosystem, but you think that maybe there are worlds inside of Jungkook that nobody will ever get to know. Some that maybe he isn't even aware of - but you want to be. You want to learn him. What makes him tick, what gets those dimples of his showing.

It's a fantasy. A what-if. A world of possibilities in the vessel of an impossibly handsome man, carved of stone, filled with feathers. Gentle to the touch, hard on your heart.

Funny thing is, Jungkook kind of regards you to be a fantasy, too. Make-believe. A story told to kids about princesses so pretty they're put to sleep at the tops of towers. The unattainable elite, who are somehow a friend to all, and an enemy to just one.

Jungkook knows better than to let himself indulge in the fallacy of you. It's a misconception he's dreamt up; a romanticisation of the reality that he loathes so much.

He isn't really sure why he's letting himself get so caught up with you. Maybe he just thinks he can keep you at arm's length if he keeps you as part of his imagination.

Which is ironic, given the way his arm is tight behind your back as your hips roll on top of his lap. Can't really get much closer than his cock being inside of you.

There's just something about the way you look at him - the little glances beneath your long lashes and the roll of your eyes - that makes him unable to stay away from you. He keeps coming back for more. Again and again.

You're like crack, he thinks. He's never done it, but he's seen enough poor sods trying to ween themselves of it. The withdrawals are akin to the way he feels when you're not around.

He's always been this way; attracted to the things he knows he shouldn't be. You're not the first forbidden fruit he's ever tried, but he's got a taste for them now. He doubts you'll be the last - unless you're the one that finally poisons him.

As he breathes you in, lips on yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your hip, Jungkook knows that you could, in fact, very well be his last - but he doesn't care.

You're still dressed, missing the intimacy of his skin sticking to yours, but neither of you could wait.

The backseats are icy cold, so your tights have just been pulled off, soaked underwear pushed to the side so that his cock - which has barely been set free from the confines of his trousers, still at the top of his thighs - can push up into you as quickly as possible.

The way his hands grip onto your ass makes up for the lack of skin on skin. He's in control, pulling you up and down his shaft like his own personal sex toy.

Maybe that's what he should do, instead - get himself a toy. A fleshlight. Or maybe even one of those fake torsos, the ones with a perfectly hairless cunt and a bolted-on pair of tits, so that he can mimic the way he grips onto your waist as he does it. That'd solve his problems. Stop him from screwing you. Maybe.

He could fuck himself into it; the silicone a pathetic replica of the silky feeling your walls provide him with, and spill his seed into it while he thinks about you. He could even circle his lips around the plump pussy, have his tongue toy with the labia, dipping down into the leaky hole he'd have stretched out with his thick cock. Lick it all up like a good boy, like he did the last time - but you wouldn't be there to swallow it. He'd have to eat his own cum, and that's just never as much fun.

Plus he remembers the ways your legs clamped around his head as you came, so tight he swore his skull could have cracked.

A sex toy would never have him fearing for his life (although he would die from embarrassment if Jimin ever found it), not the way that you do.

In his sheets, in his car, in his life in general; you're a threat to it. To him. And the acknowledgement of this gets his cock all hard and angry - engorged, flushed red at the tip, leaky - when he's alone and thinking about you at night.

Wet dreams had been reserved for his teenage years, but he'd woken up to damp sheets twice since he'd met you.

The first time, about three weeks ago, he was confused; the head of his cock, still a little firm, peeking out the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, a puddle of his semen gathering in his belly button. He'd poked at it a little, his sleepy yet deliriously horny brain not quite awake yet. Tracing his toned chest with his fingers tips, he ghosted his abs as delicately as he wanted to touch your body - and then he realised.

Or should that be remembered.

Remembered the pair of eyes he'd seen as he checked the rearview mirror in his dream. Didn't matter that the car was somehow driving along that little damp area where the sand meets the sea, or that he also seemed to have been wearing inflatable shoes. It was the eyes - sultry and subdued, sunset catching in your irises - that had his cock getting plump in his sleep.

'Show me all of you,' whispered in a hushed tone, and followed with 'I'll show you all of me, too,' was the thing that had his stiff cock oozing onto his abdomen at four in the fucking morning.

The next time, last week, was a little less dignified. He woke up to himself rutting against his mattress, laboured grunts muffled info his pillows, a wet patch growing midway down the bed. There had been a rag left too close to his bed, the smell of gasoline filling his senses, reminding him of you. Hardly his fault. Did also concern him that he was beginning to get conditioned to developing a semi at the mere scent of gasoline.

It was pretty clear to Jungkook by that point, that if he couldn't fuck you, he'd simply die.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

He also, thankfully, hadn't placed bets with Jimin on it, cause he'd have been out of fifty-thousand won if he had. Little fucker never gives Jungkook any benefit of the doubt. Always bets on him caving as quickly as he can. 'No willpower. All cock and balls, no brain.'

You're both Jungkook's proudest conquest and deepest darkest secret.

Can't be letting the boys know about you. Can't be sharing you with them. Can't so much as admit the fact he's been getting laid whenever they rib him for being celibate (which is a reach - he's only been out of action for, like, a month. Two, tops.).

If they could see the grip he had on your hips and the way your hand were locked behind his head, hair draping over his face, lips lost in his, they'd be asking for tips. Probably be wishing they had x-ray vision so they could see beneath the pooled clothes that protected both of your modesties.

But the windows of his car are clouded, the heat of the exchange between the pair of you preventing anyone from intruding. This is your safe place; with him.

He tightens his grip, but pulls away from your lips. You mirror his actions, curious to see why he'd be willing to leave such a warm embrace, your hips stalled by his hands. He's looking at you, blonde hair tangled over his eyes, the metal of his piercing reflecting tiny fragments of light that sneak into his windows. There's a silhouette to his face, beautiful and bold; the kind of art you'd find in the museum on the outskirts of town.

Maybe you'd go there together one day. Laugh at the pompous nature of it all, revel in the fact that you're both too churlish for all that shit. He'll make up stories for the people in the pictures, and you'll play along, narrating the lives of fictional people for funsies.

When you aren't looking, he'll take a picture of you in front of some drab minimalist piece. He won't show you it. Keep it to himself. A reminder of what once was; the beauty of a girl who could capture every ounce of his attention in a room of priceless masterpieces.

That was the thing that always puzzled Jungkook about artists; how did they know when to stop?

If the artist kept trying to blend out their muses' almond eyes, would they surely not become at one with their skin?

How much paint would saturate the canvas?

At which point would the brush stroke turn into nothingness?

He supposed the same could be said for the illicit embrace he was entangled in; how many kisses would it take for a casual fuck to turn into something a little more consequential?

If eyes are windows to the soul, would he be giving his up if he looked at you as he came?

At which point does a thumb in your mouth become a thumb stroking your blushed cheek, and does it really make as much of a difference as it feels like it should?

When you whine into his mouth, displeased at the way he isn't letting you bounce on his cock, he smiles, and knows that it's already crossed that line.

In fact, the lines are so blurred that 'indistinguishable' is the only appropriate way to describe them.

"I really did want to talk tonight," he hums quietly, pushing your hair back. It had been hot when he was covered in it, the scent of gasoline suffocating him, but he wants to look at you now. You hold up your wrist as he piles it all to the back of your head, his hips moving gently as he pulls the tie from your wrist and secures your hair in place.

"We still can," you say a little breathlessly. You're not exhausted, barely used any of your energy on the languid nature of the fuck you're indulging in, but the way he stretches you, cock thick and plump between your tight walls keeps you slightly out of breath.

"Now?"

"As good a time as any."

He smiles, pretty teeth resting on his bottom lip. Head shaking, a little bashful beneath the lunar light that peeks out from beyond the clouds, he lets his eyes rest on yours. They're inky, full of unspoken words, and you want to spend days studying them, just to decipher even a handful of words that make up who Jungkook is.

"Tell me about your life," he hums, head resting back against the headrest. There's an intimacy to this position. The way you're keeping his cock warm is something that's reserved for, well, no one. You've never done this before. Never shared anything other than your body during sex. It all feels foreign - but surprisingly, his stiff cock inside of you doesn't. "Your dream job as a kid. Your nicknames."

You smile, now, and the way your diaphragm tenses has his cock throbbing. "Vet. Popstar. The usual. One that stuck? Lawyer. And I never had a nickname. My family weren't really like that," you say, before rolling your hips, scared that the mundane talk would make him soft again.

Jungkook stills you. Looks at you with an expression you don't really recognise. His eyes are all hard, the dimple above his lips present as if he's thinking. A miracle, really, given most men's inability to produce a single thought during sex.

"You're smart," he assesses. Thinks that girls who dream of becoming lawyers always are.

"Was an overworked teenager. Burnt out. Flunked," you shrug, failing to disclose exactly why you flunked.

He nods, that fierce contemplative gaze still lacing his features. The pads of his fingers are delicate as he pushes your skirt a little further up your waist. His eyes are still on yours as his thumb hooks beneath the lace of the panties you're still wearing. He presses against your clit. It's only a little pressure. Just enough to have you gasping.

"Could always retake your exams now," he says, as if he isn't toying with your pussy like it's his favourite arcade game. Slow and steady. Easy does it. His eyes are wide. Doe-like. Incapable of committing any crimes, it seems. Innocent. "You're smart enough to do it, CC."

Your lips curl to the side slightly, head tilting, ignoring all of what he said except for those two little syllables at the end. "CC?"

"Everyone deserves a nickname."

"And CC?" You laugh, strands of hair falling loose, framing your face. Jungkook was right. You are a work of art.

"CC," he smiles, leaning a little closer to steal a tiny kiss from your lips. "As in, LMCC."

Brows raised, he's got you curious. "LMCC?"

"Little Miss Clutch Control," he grins, so proud of himself that you can't help but smile, too.

The pressure of his thumb on your clit gets firmer, and Jungkook lets his smile drop as your pout rests ajar, a small moan shaking from your very core. There's an intimacy to be found in the way Jungkook can procure such radiant happiness and sinful lust from you within seconds of one another.

He's harvesting for diamonds again. They're not in your eyes tonight. It's too dark for that. But they are in the hushed moans that let him know he's got a hold on you that no one else has. You could talk all the shit you liked about his clutch control, but if you even attempted to argue with him about his clit control, he'd just laugh.

"Thought you wanted to talk?" You say, though it comes out as a gasp. He's got a rhythm, but he isn't moving his hips. He's just feeling your walls tense around him.

"I do," he says with a shit-eating grin. He's too hot, you decide. So hot that you could never be with him, not properly. You'd probably lose your mind fearing he'd cheat. Boys that look like him always do. "Favourite food?"

The casual nature of his tone is a challenge. One that you accept. Even if your thighs are shaking.

"Don't have one."

"Any pets?"

"Family had a dog."

"Name?"

"Bingsu."

Jungkook is so pretty when he laughs. Cheeks all plump, the tip of his nose shiny from the moonlight his car is being bathed in. It's in his eyes, too, twinkling as if it's joining in on the joke - but of course, it is. You are the moon to his tides. Your happiness, for the moments of which you spend entangled in one another, is intertwined.

"Very original," he teases. He knew at least three girls who had called their pet rabbits Bingsu. Some cats, too.

"I was like 10," you defend. "Fuck off."

You say, as if you arent mounted on top of him.

"Favourite position in bed?" He questions, lifting your skirt so that he can see where your pussy meets his cock. He lets a small pool of spit gather in his mouth, before slowly releasing it, aiming for your clit. He spreads it around with his thumb, getting your pussy all nice and wet as he feigns indifference to the way your moans increase.

"How do you go from pets to sex?" You question, finding his method of enquiry maddening.

"Dog," he tilts his head from side to side. "Doggy. Very easily. Answer it."

"Missionary."

It's a lie. You just want to see how he'll react.

"Boring."

"Intimate."

"Old people position."

"Didn't we say we're already married? Perfect for us."

"We're still in the honeymoon period - and don't give me that bollocks about intimacy. I'd say that this is pretty fucking intimate," he protests, thinking that having you on his lap, warming his fat, leaky cock is far more intimate than any rendition of missionary he's ever had.

"And I'd say missionary is only boring if you don't like the person you're fucking," you bite back, just to be difficult. "I could force you to give up all other positions for lent, and I bet you'd still be dying to fuck me every single night, regardless of whether or not it was missionary."

"Yeah, you're right," he admits. Doesn't even find missionary that boring. Quite likes it actually. and he'd happily fuck you for forty days and forty nights. "I prefer morning sex, though."

"Fine," you shrug. "Missionary morning, noon and night."

"Three times a day?"

"Can you handle it?"

"Can you?"

"Only one way to find out."

"You're on," he grins. What he wouldn't give to be buried in your pussy three times a day. "Next question. Political stance?"

"Liberal," you respond instantly. "Left. Whatever you wanna call it. Also, this is terrible dirty talk."

"Good," he nods, as his thumb begins to brush at the hood that protects your sensitive nub, pushing it from side to side. Your toes fucking curl. "I don't fuck conservatives. And also? I can feel you leaking around the base of my shaft. You're still turned on, dirty talk or not."

You ignore his winning remark.

"What if I'd have said I was conservative?"

"You're on my dick in a car down a back alley of Daegu. You're not conservative in any sense of the word."

"But if I had?"

"I'd have probably carried on," he concedes. "Hate fuck."

"You're into that?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I fuck girls 'cause I like them, CC. I don't really get those straight dudes who always go on about how much they hate women. Surely just fuck dudes instead? Regardless, if I'm fucking someone, it's cause I like 'em."

He says it without a single care in the world. Yet you feel like your whole entire world is imploding, in the best possible way.

"So you like me?" You question, all coy and a little shy. The tip of his cock leaks a little precum into you.

"My dick is in you, no?"

Touché.

And then your morbid curiosity makes an unwelcome appearance.

"When did you last like a girl enough to stick your dick in her?"

Jungkook laughs.

"Last night."

You're about to be offended. He can see it, the way your brows contort, a scowl forming - and then you realise. The smile you give him is sweet, but doesn't last for that long. He'd avoided the question, and you still want the answer. "Before that."

"About two months ago."

"She better than me?"

"I've only fucked you once. Not really a fair comparison."

Disappointing response.

"I'm fucking you right now," you remind him. "The correct answer was to say no."

"Actually," he argues, because of course he does. It's what the pair of you were born to do. "The correct answer is that you're incomparable - but the answer that you want? The one that means anything?" He pauses. Stops toying with your pussy, and pulls you in for a shallow kiss. It's fleeting, but enough. "The way I've been thinking about you doesn't compare. Been going insane thinkin' 'bout you, CC. Wrapped those pretty little legs of yours around my head and have been embedded in my brain ever since. Making me in-fucking-sane."

He's right. It is the answer you wanted.

"So stop asking me questions and fuck me," you laugh. "I've never met a more confusing yet straightforward man."

He ignores your statement, though he doesn't disagree with the sentiment.

"Am I comparable to your last fuck?" He asks, taunting you. He doesn't want to know, not really. But you asked first. He wants to see if there's a reason why; if maybe you're still harbouring some sort of attachment just like you're accusing him of having.

The way your body gets a little tense in his grasp confirms this. He notices. Hard not to when he's trapped inside of you. Thinks it's rich of you to grill him in the way you did, only to clearly be projecting your own feelings onto him.

But there's a look in your eyes that he doesn't like, now. The moon is hiding behind a cloud again, stealing the diamonds from his line of sight.

"I'm sorry," he says. The smile that had been on his face when he'd asked the question is gone, and he's looking at you like he's truly seeing you; the eyebrow hairs that need shaping, the pores that need cleansing and the flyaway hairs that land on the wrong side of your parting.

"It's okay," you say, because you should have expected it. The question was fair game.

Jungkook knocks his head to the side briefly as if to say 'no', but chooses against it. Instead, he pulls you in closer to him and kisses you tenderly, his hips pulsing upwards beneath your weight. His hands are in your hair, tongue in your mouth, and he's reminded again why the answer to his question doesn't matter.

"Let me fuck you how you like it, baby," he mumbles into your plump lips, his tongue flicking against the tip of yours as he speaks.

You question what he means as he grips onto your waist, elevating himself a little but keeping himself snug inside of you. He turns, restricted by the tight space in the back of his car. The movements are a little awkward, but it's endearing how he gets you on your back, sprawled lengthways across the back seat.

Your legs are bent at the knees, a foot resting on the ledge of the window while the other perches on the centre console. You're spread for him, but he can't devour the beauty of you blooming in such a way, thanks to the cramped room. He shuffles his jeans down a little, just beneath his ass, and strokes his cock; pumps it once, twice, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

The position is gonna be hellish for him, his backseat too narrow to really fit the both of you, but he figures if he hooks your foot resting on the window ledge over his shoulder instead, then it should be okay.

And so he does just that. You're surprised you can still bend like that, but you're also pretty sure your bones would turn to jelly if Jungkook asked them to. There's nothing that you wouldn't do to keep him close like this.

"Thought this was boring?" You hum, knowing that it doesn't really compare to standard missionary.

He's stroking the tip of his cock against your folds - and then he sinks back into you, a laboured moan hanging off the cushion of his bottom lip before he presses it into yours. His hips don't really waste much time, fucking into you slow and deep.

"It is," he groans, before hooking your other leg over his shoulder, too. You're a little tighter like this, the grip your pussy has on his cock akin to heaven on earth. "But you're not."

You go to say something, but he can feel you smiling against his lips so he tells you just to kiss him, instead. He rolls his hips into yours, resting himself a little deeper every single time. The tepid air in his car wraps around the pair of you like satin ribbon, tied in a pretty little bow where your bodies meet.

It's a gift, how well you work together. A blessing. A curse, too, but that only concerns Jungkook for now, and honestly, he isn't thinking about it. He's just thinking about the way your hair smells, and how much he wants to suffocate in your scent.

When Jungkook cums, the weight that eases off his shoulders settles in your stomach instead. It traps the movement of the chime that hasn't stopped ringing since he first stepped foot into the gas station that evening. He moans into your lips, tells you how well you take him, how much he likes it, likes you. "Think I'll die if we ever stop hooking up."

He asks if you came, but knows that you didn't. He remembers the way you felt the last time it happened - and as incredible as it had been to have your pussy wrapped around his cock, he knew that it hadn't throbbed in the same way that it had last time.

You shake your head, but you're already moving to sit up. There's something refreshing about your honesty. It's not that he doesn't want to make you cum, it's just that he's getting a bit of post-nut clarity and is highly aware that Namjoon could be around the corner. City isn't that big. Especially not this side of the river.

"Too cold," you smile, to which Jungkook responds with a small, confused hum. "Can't cum when I'm cold. Your car is fucking freezing, Kook."

The way you say his name has him wanting to blast the aircon just so he can get you warm enough to finish all over his tongue - but then you yawn, and he feels bad for keeping you out late after your shift. You're cute when you yawn.

Cute how your hand curls, eyes scrunching up tightly, shoulders hunching and then lowering back down again. He likes your shoulders. They're sloped, and petite, and a far cry from his. So dainty. Everything about you is. The way you look, your pretty lips, the earrings you wear. So pretty, and perfect, and in this moment, his.

Doesn't want the moment to end.

"Come back to mine," he offers, in a bid to elongate that feeling. "Stay the night."

"Again?" You ask, and your tone of surprise has him laughing.

"What? It's not like I'm asking you to marry me, C."

"I'd say no, anyways," you bicker back without even thinking about it.

"Thank God," Jungkook grins, rummaging about to find a packet of tissues he's sure he put in his car at some point.

He'd hidden them up after Jimin had teased him about having car sex like a fucking teenager, but Jungkook had waaaay too much pride in his car to do that.

The tissues are for when he gets greasy food from gas stations. Can't be getting the leather all fucked up, not after he spent so much getting it reupholstered.

"Ah, here," he pulls them from the back of the passenger seat and passes them over to you. Apparently, his mind has changed on the whole 'having too much pride to fuck in his car' thing. "Nah, I just-"

He pauses. Shrugs. Does his trousers back up, and doesn't look at you as you sort out the mess between your legs.

"I liked having you there last night. I'd like to have it again."

He glances over his shoulder, to find you looking at him in the very way he was afraid of. You look fond.

But so does he as he smiles at you.

"Plus, I kinda owe you an orgasm now, and my apartment is way warmer than this tin can."

You tuck the tissues back into the now-empty packet and scrunch your nose up, trying to fight a smile. He doesn't realise, but Jungkook does the same thing back.

Your legs hook over the centre console, and you plonk yourself back down in the passenger seat.

"I do actually wanna sleep tonight," you tell him.

Jungkook smiles, popping open the rear door, making his way back around to the driver's seat. The leather is freezing when his body falls into it, and he starts to realise just how cold you must have been all exposed like that.

He wants to get you home quicker than ever. Shower you in the warmth of his kisses, use his fingers like strike anywhere matches along your skin, igniting fires from the tips of your toes to the very centre of your core.

He'll get you warm.

Get you coming undone. Get you all sleepy and cute. Get you dreaming the sweetest dreams as he holds you close through the night.

"Me too," he says as the engine starts up, his motor purring almost as pleasantly as you do. And perhaps he's just a little cum-drunk, and doesn't realise the weight of his words as he knocks the car into first and heads in the direction of his apartment, humming softly: "Let's get you home."

────────────

When Jungkook wakes up at four in the morning, he's hot. Cheeks a little puffy, hands clammy, tongue dry. Hot.

Your lips are pursed and pouted, firmly shut, body curled up next to his. He wouldn't normally complain, but his arm is trapped beneath your body, and so he's fixed in position next to a girl who burns like the heat of a thousand matches. He'll get scalded, skin tarnished, branded by you, and yet he can't bring himself to disturb you.

He reaches for his phone to check the time, and you hum softly in your sleep. Wonders if you're dreaming; if it's about him. Hopes you are; hopes it is.

His voice is low as he berates himself, whispering to 'get a grip', rubbing his free hand over his face and pushing it back into his hair. It's a little brittle, in need of a deep condition, the bleach damage a small price to pay for the anonymity his hair gave him - until, of course, it became his trademark.

He thinks about cutting it all off sometimes, but he's got a Samson complex. Fears he'll lose his strength without it. Wonders if one day you'll be his Delilah. Kind of already feels like you are.

You would never cut his hair off, though, purely for selfish reasons. Mainly 'cause the way it frames his face makes him look like art; but also cause you like having something to hold onto when things get a little rough (though his ass is also ideal for that).

He likes the way you always play with it. Knows you think it's a little sexy, all wavy (unintentional, just fried) and long. The roots are as dark as his eyes, though.

You romanticise it, in a way. It's like his true self is peeking through, and it makes you think that maybe one day you'll get to know who that is.

Jungkook isn't so sure.

In fact, he knows you won't. Sucks, but such is life.

It's not that he doesn't want you to know when his birthday is, or his favourite spot along the river to watch the world go by, it's just that it's asking for trouble. He gets into enough of that alone.

Still, he likes it when he's not alone. Likes it when you're with him - and so he falls back asleep, the beating of your heart soothing him into his REM cycle like the white noise he normally listens to instead.

It's gone seven by the time he wakes up again.

He reaches out, strokes the mattress where you'd once been and sighs. It's empty, though a little warm. There's silence in his apartment, and your bra isn't hooked over the end of his bed anymore, so he knows you're gone. Probably just didn't want to wake him.

He's cold, now. Hates the fuckin' cold. Isn't made for the winters. His lack of body fat does a terrible job at keeping him insulated through the cold nights, and heating is a luxury that he can't really afford these days, not with the sheer amount of gas he funnels into that goddamn car of his.

You had been a welcome, warm addition.

He'd teased you about it, told you it was the only reason he'd invited you over when you cursed about how bloody cold it was - but then you reminded him that you couldn't cum cold, and it had him flicking on the electric fan heater quicker than you could click your fingers.

Bleary-eyed from the morning sun, his hair a haphazard mess falling over them, Jungkook makes his way to his bathroom. He trips on his jeans in the process, forgetting the way you'd practically stripped him of his clothes the night before. Insatiable, that's what you are - and he loves it.

There's no coordination in his body as he walks, and he imagines a shower is the only thing that will really wake his body up - but there's no point. He needs to be out of his apartment within the next ten minutes. He's already running late.

His tardiness is noticed by everyone by the time he gets to the boxing club that morning.

"Here he is," Jimin grins as Jungkook avoids eye contact with every single fucker in the room. He slings his bag down and chucks his jacket on top, mask following. The room is cold, Old Man Kang not one for wasting precious profits on heaters.

Cold? He'd say. Train harder.

"Sorry I'm late," Jungkook mumbles, head hung a little low, throwing his body down next to Jimin, into the empty seat of a tatty sofa that sits in the corner of the rest area.

Jungkook can feel Namjoon's eyes on him. They're as cold as the ice that's melting on the roads outside, a little bit of spring sunshine thawing what once was frozen. He twists his neck, bones cracking at the top of his spine. Rolls his shoulders back. Postures himself correctly - and only then does Jungkook look at Namjoon.

"Where'd you disappear to last night?" Jungkook taunts him. "One minute you were tailing me, the next?" He clicks his fingers and sticks his bottom lip out, eyes all wide and faux-friendly.

They're the kind of eyes that remind you of the summer before you started secondary school; warm custard on a sponge cake, served up in a yellow cafeteria. A little bit of colour, hundreds and thousands sprinkled on top, but overwhelmingly yellow.

All yellow.

The school regulation sundress, the frills around the top of your socks. The highlighter stains on your fingers, and the rubber band charity bracelet worn around the wrists of every single boy in your class because it was 'trendy', not because any of them actually understood the concept of charity yet.

Yellow; canary, butter, midsummer Daegu sun. Lemon kombucha, mustard, and honey, too. In some lights, maybe even gold.

It curious how eyes so new, so foreign to you, seem to harbour memories of childhood that you thought had been lost. If not the memories, at least, the feelings; the notion that after the sunshine fades, nothing will ever be the same. Jungkook is the summer before secondary school, the final song of your favourite bands' encore, the subway doors closing at 11:57 pm. He's the end of something good, familiar, safe - but nothing great ever came from safe, now, did it?

His eyes are nostalgic, served up with a side of the unknown. Promises. That's what they're full of. Or is it potential? You're not sure, but you're actively choosing to be naive to the fact that it all seems too good to be true.

You don't know him like the boys in Old Man Kang's boxing club do.

Jungkook's void of colour in there. His eyes are black when they look at Namjoon. There's no honey in them.

They're bitter like black treacle, his disdain thick as it oozes over last nights competitor.

"Bastard lights," Namjoon shrugs, his indifference not convincing enough to come off as authentic. "Bad timing. Those cars were all coming from CGV. The last film of the night had just finished. Wasn't expecting the rush."

Jungkook holds back a snort. Typical of Namjoon to go and check the fucking cinema listings, just so that he had something else to blame his poor performance on.

"I mean, I made it through the lights on time," Jungkook smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. Treacle drips from his whole entire being. It's sticky, and it coats every single surface in the room. The floor, the ring, the people. All covered in the heaviness. Everyone can feel it; how uncomfortable the empty silence is.

"Alright, ladies," Seokjin breaks the tension.

Shoulders broad, shirt discarded by the punching bag he's spent the morning working out his frustrations on, there's a sheen to his skin. It's damp. Salty, presumably, though no one in the room would dare lick his torso to check.

It's as if he's got sodium chloride crystals on his chest, glimmering when the light pours in through a tall window to the rear of the building.

His muscles are made from clay, carved out so intricately that Jungkook wonders why he bothers training himself so hard when he'll never look like his mentor. Impossible.

He's glad Seokjin has never stepped foot in the GS25 you earn your keep from. Thinks it will impact the way you look at him. Thinks maybe you'll start picturing Seokjin's face, instead of his own, whenever he takes you from behind in the future.

The thought unsettles him. Has him adjusting his legs, repositioning his cock so no one notices the fact it's a little plump now.

What? He was thinking about fucking you. Bound to happen. He's only human.

Male to be specific, with a libido to rival that of a bonobo.

Sometimes, Jimin likes to joke that Jungkook's genealogy must be closer to them than it is to his own grandfather. Even made him watch a documentary about it once. Only difference between Jungkook and his distant primate relatives is that Jungkook prefers to keep his sex monogamous.

He's made mistakes before; learnt the hard way that in order to keep things messy in bed, emotions have to run clean.

"Kook?" Seokjin interrupts his thoughts. He hadn't even realised he'd zoned out, but everyone's looking at him now, thankfully none of them noticing the semi in his pants. "You listening?"

"Huh?" He mumbles. "Sorry, was thinking. What were you saying?"

"We're swapping you out. You've been working well -" Namjoon scoffs in the corner, but Seokjin ignores him "- but I want to see if Park can get things done a little quicker."

Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. This will not do.

"No!" Jungkook shouts, before realising how out of pocket his tone was. Cringe. "I mean, uh. I just. I've been making good progress. She's a tough cunt to crack."

"Charming."

"Fuck off, Jimin - see, that's what I mean," Jungkook begins to over-explain his outburst. "She'd call me a cunt right back. She likes my sense of humour. It just takes a while for her to open up. Sending Park in would just put us back at square one all over again."

"Yeah, but what's better?" Namjoon interjects. "Square one, going nought to sixty, or square two, still, only going five miles per hour."

"I'm on, like, square ten, asshole," Jungkook spits, incredibly childishly. If he wanted to, he could get specific. Talk about a different game that requires squares. Bases. Tell them all that he hits home runs, and that he's getting pretty consistent.

But if he tells them that, he'll be stopped from playing the game altogether.

"Sure," Namjoon just smirks.

Jungkook runs his tongue along his cheek, and looks at Seokjin, nostrils all flared, lips pouty.

"Calm down, Kookie," he says, and even though it's a little patronising, it has the desired effect. Jungkook respects him too much to fight against him. "I'll give you a week - and then you're swapping out with Park, alright? Get me something good. Something we can work with."

"I've got something," Jungkook shrugs. It isn't much but it at least confirms something they've theorised. "Asked her about politics last ni- last time I went in for gas."

"Casual kiosk discussion, seems legit."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up, Namjoon?" Jimin shoots him a glare.

"See, this is what I mean," Jungkook grumbles. "I can ask her shit like this 'cause I've built up a rapport with her. We talk." Fuck a little bit, too, but who's keeping tabs? "She won't be like that with Jimin."

She better not be.

Seokjin nods. He accepts what Jungkook is saying. Knows he's right - but knows that the lack of results is making his leadership look weak to Old Man Kang. "Carry on. What did she tell you?"

"She doesn't subscribe to her father's idea of politics. Didn't name drop him - never does - but she said she's left-wing."

"Performative," Namjoon scoffs, proving that no, he doesn't ever shut the fuck up.

"Or maybe she's the black sheep," Jimin counters. "The name change, the distancing herself from him-"

"Is all standard witness protection shit," Namjoon argues before Jimin can even finish making his point. "Her daddy is keeping her hidden so that he can keep her safe during the election campaign. Remember the amount of assassination threats he got during the last one? "

There's back and forth between them all, assessing how you ended up behind a gas station kiosk without a single link tying you back to your father. Most photographed man in the city, and yet you've been out of the pictures for a good three years, now.

The four of them never would have known who you are, or how expensive that pretty little head of yours is, had it not been for Old Man Kang and the job he'd given them all a couple months back.

Jungkook didn't exactly lie when he told you he was between jobs. He's just got a little something part time going on, too.

"Well, how about this?" Jungkook interrupts them, cutting their discussion about you short. It was annoying him. None of them know you. Not like he does. He's the only one qualified to have an opinion on the matter. "Keep me on the job. I'll be able to find out far quicker than any of you fuckers."

Seokjin concedes. Accepts that Jungkook is the best bet they've got. Dismisses them all, but keeps an eye on Jungkook as he pulls the neck of his shirt over his head and tosses it down onto his bag.

His composure is cool as he begins to wrap up his palms, but he's nibbling at his lips. Nose all twitchy like a bunny - and when he gets the bag he'll be working on, instead of testing the weight, he just hangs his head. Rests his forehead against it. Holds it. Taps it gently with his knuckles, before whispering a sharp 'fuck'.

But then he's bouncing on his feet, squaring up, getting ready, as if he hasn't just very visibly gone through an existential crisis, of sorts.

He would ask Jungkook what's going on, but there'd be no point. He's as good at lying as he is at throwing punches - and he's got the best left hook on the team. Doesn't use it much - but never misses when he does. Lies? Yeah, he uses them a lot more.

In fact, he's so good at fibbing, that Seokjin half thinks he doesn't even realise he's doing it a lot of the time. He cleans up the ink of his bad choices with white lies, and before he knows it, everything in Jungkook's life is grey.

"Posture straight," Seokjin calls over to him. "Don't lose your form."

Jungkook grunts a response. Does as he's told. Stays in the boxing club long enough to convince them all that it doesn't feel like he's having a heart attack. Chest all tight and shit. Lungs twisting beneath his ribs.

He grabs his stuff as quickly as he can without looking like a mad man on a dash, and locks himself in his car, staring into the oncoming traffic. Hands on the steering wheel, his chest heaves. Up and down, in and out. Contracting and expanding in all different directions.

The soiled packet of tissues is still on his backseat, your hairband looped around his gearstick. Your perfume spices the air, sweet vanilla and black cherry. He can only smell your hair when his nose is nestled in it.

Bizarrely, thinking about it doesn't make his heart race like it normally does. It calms it instead.

Jungkook whines. Stomps his feet a little in his footwell, then rests his forehead on the wheel.

"I'm so fuckin' screwed."

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

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haitanology · 1 month

Text

big-shot ; hanma x fem!reader

warning: smut (mdni) ! oral (f receiving), face-sitting, degradation, sub!hanma, meandom!reader …

!!! note: this is a chapter of a wayyy bigger fic, with very heavy plot and lots of other characters as love interests. you can find it on wattpad under HAITANITE or ao3 as haitanology

Flickering lights and loud music, getting lost between many bodies swaying to the rhythm —invasive, breaking skin into light sweat.

A perfect formula for the remedy to a chilly summer night.

2017's been treating you well. You are successful, you can buy anything you want and have people answer to you in seconds.

Just like always. A fact meant to be.

Call it destiny, if you will.

Chugging down the rest of your drink, you leave it somewhere you won't remember and make your way to the dancing mass.

Your eyes dart around the room, flicking between different colored shapes that jump and blend in with the dark based club.

You don't spot one that stands out. Tall, a brooding presence who shakes you up by a mere appearance.

Your body begins to follow the flow of the beat, the song wrapping around you as your tongue recalls the lyrics. The words are lost among many, yet your hips keep syncing to the music, closing your eyes and leaving the rest to your heart.

"Your friend's looking for you outside." Somebody whispers behind you, breaking the symphony for he stops you from enjoying yourself.

Not taking a single glance around, leaving the male voice to his own doings, you become one with the crowd as you look for the exit.

Unnoticed, you leave the club.

You've never been there, ever.

A lone car rests outside, parked and tinted dark. You make your way with steady feet, opening the passenger's door and closing it just as quick. The car starts up, carrying the thud and the clicking of your seatbelt along with it.

"You know I can't be seen in public." Hanma's deep voice, playfulness lost with the years, comments.

From the corner of your eye, you watch as he drives with one hand, staring straight ahead. You rest your elbow on the side, supporting your head with your hand; you take a deep breath.

"I know." Your eyes dart to the view from the window, Tokyo's nightlife carried by its luminosity. "I also don't care."

Disinterest follows tiredness, just as silence follows death.

"I don't get why you wanted to meet up," He speaks up against the emptiness you've left. His next words are all over eachother, most unrecognizable. "not that I'm complaining."

Punishment follows sin, the same way sin follows punishment.

He sighs when he doesn't receive an answer. His fingers hold tightens around the steering wheel, the same way his free hand does over your leg.

Sex follows passion, much like passion follows desire.

"Y'know," The strained chuckle he heaves punctures through his chest. "I enjoy myself when I'm with you, I have fun, but it's different."

But does love always follow desire? The same way desire always follows love.

"Different, how?" You follow up, words longer than they should be. Hanma doesn't care, almost grinning at the sound of your voice.

Though, it's only a small smile.

Many things follow love, but love doesn't necessarily have to follow anything. Instead, emptiness fills in for the role; following after them.

Ironically.

"Different than Kisaki."

You grimace, lips twitching at the thought.

"Good," Tapping your chin with a single finger, you blink once. "glad to not compare to that weird ass specimen."

The car stops in front of one of the many business buildings in Tokyo. It stands high with might, most lights turned off due to the recent hours.

Hanma's hand crawls up to your nape, staying there. He turns his head to yours, violet eyes sizing you up before he closes them.

"I don't like when you talk about him like that." He gulps, violet now overshadowed by the darkness of his pupil. "But I'll let it go, just for tonight."

Love follows people, but love doesn't follow you.

Interest does.

Is this why you find yourself in Hanma's spacious apartment, lost in the contact of his lips against yours —tongue following a pattern with his own— as you bask in the slight roughness that comes with his kisses?

Yes, indeed.

In the best way he can, Hanma attempts to lead you to his bedroom between guttered groans that leave his throat everytime your lips move down to his neck.

He heaves a sigh, arm sliding across your waist and bringing you closer to his chest. Your ear presses against his heart, hearing the rapid bumping grow exponentially, in the same way his erection begins to poke your thigh.

Straying your eyes away from his body, they widen at an ajar door that hides an office inside. The light in them glows, your smirk stretching across your face before you are pulled inside Hanma's bedroom.

The cold contact of Hanma's fingers ghosting over your back, break your trance. They grasp your nape, tugging your face closer to his own, his breath caressing your parted lips.

Eyes set on his lips, you tilt your head, ready to taste them again. When Hanma leans in, closing his eyes at the touch of his nose with yours, his breath is cut short.

He gulps, finding himself laying on his bed with you on his lap. Both of your hands rest on his chest, one moving to grip his chin and bring it closer to you.

"I don't care how much power you have over Kisaki's lackeys." You mutter, turning his face around so you do so close to his ear. Your eyes narrow, fingers closing on his face. "You aren't gonna tell me what to do."

Your hand feels the vibration through his chest as Hanma chuckles. Passing one hand through his hair, observing the painted 'Sin' afterwards, his lips form a close smile.

Voice deep as ever, you stay still once you see the gentle smile that carves Hanma's expression. He calls you over, both his index and middle fingers massaging your cheek.

"It's you." He tugs on your bottom lip, dragging it down, fingers following a path to your collarbone. "If it's you, you can do all that you want to me. Use me, for all I care."

Hanma's brows shoot up, his fingers now moving through your trembling lips. His eyes burn, his entire body does, hips bucking into your clothed cunt as his clothes begin to strain him.

"I love being with you," He whispers, helping your hands undo his suit. "it's always so fun."

Words fall on your deaf ears, taking a deep breath before trying to forget who it is you are using.

Your chest hurts, it's tense. You purse your lips, shaking your head unnoticed by Hanma's shut eyes. Your mind shows you the office you've passed by, yet the light in your eyes only dims.

Gritting your teeth, taking Hanma's clothes off gets aggresive, throwing them somewhere along with your own. Taking his cock in your hand, you squeeze it, hearing a yelp from him.

"Shut up!" You bark out, same hand stroking his dick at a rapid pace, not giving him time to word out his thoughts. "Stop talking, just close your useless fucking mouth."

A drop of cold sweat runs down the side of your face, your mind shut as Hanma's groaning and cursing plays a loop in your brain.

"That's it..." You coo out, your voice barely audible. Not that he's paying attention to it, busy with the much needed attention you are paying to his cock, throbbing in delight.

A breathless laugh escapes your lips, smile growing.

"Stop making me feel pity for you, good job."

Swiping your thumb over his tip, wet from the precum coating it, you ignore Hanma's pleads to slow down. You keep pumping, eyes unfocused and pupils dilated.

"M'gonna..." Hanma calls out, biting his lip. "M'gonna cum soon."

Managing to listen to Hanma's slurred words, you blink and your hand stops, moving away from his pulsating cock.

"Huh?!" Hanma's eyes snap open, your hand over his mouth.

You glare down at him, lightly palming his dick, playing with it on your hand.

"You're dumb." Slapping his face without force as you utter each word, you taunt him. "So fucking dumb, it's unbelievable."

"Please—" With a single move of your index finger, now lifted, he stops. You place it over his lips, face hovering over his.

A moan suddenly tries to leave his shut mouth, eyes rolling back at the soft friction of your pussy over his cock. Itching for more, it twitches.

"How many girls have been in the position you are in, with you treating and using them like pathetic little whores?" You question, not expecting an answer; humming when you don't get one.

You take his hand, punishment staring right back at you. You raise it, slapping his face with it, not measuring the strength you used.

"You thought it wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass?"

Hanma's breath grows erratic, eyes close to sparkling at the sight of your pussy over his face.

"At least your mouth will be useful this way."

Unconsciously, his hands move to grab your waist, leading you down to him. A content sigh escapes from your lips when his tongue licks your slit, uttering a silent moan at the touch of your clit and the tip of his nose.

You close your eyes, your mind blank as Hanma's hands glide down to your ass, gripping it while his mouth works on your cunt —just like clockwork.

Grabbing the blonde and black strands of his hair, you tug on them when his nose hits the spot. His tongue laps at your folds, eating and sucking you out as if it's his last meal.

You lean your head back, Hanma's quiet mewling going straight to your pussy, causing you to bite down a whimper.

"I hate that you're so good." You hiss out, hips beginning to rock back and forth on his face —craving more of his tongue lashing out. "Fuck!"

A thrust of his tongue has you cursing out his name, thighs enclosing his head between them. He doesn't care, though, continuing to play with his mouth on your cunt —kissing it, worshipping you.

While your mind, now cleared out from the shock of Hanma's moves, doesn't let you forget why you are here; Hanma's only ongoing thought is how godly you taste, how he doesn't want to stop.

He's pussy drunk. Utterly and completely.

The tip of his tongue licking every crevice, moving a path through the slit to the clit, estimulated by his nose once you move in a certain way. It's all enough to send you over the edge, thighs closing in farther as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Soon enough, Hanma's lapping at your folds like a cat, tasting your orgasm as his sturdy hands help you ride it out. He licks you clean, audibly gulping and leaving an open mouthed kiss on your cunt, letting you move back to his lap.

Through your panting, you barely listen to Hanma's sultry tone. His tongue passes through his lips, getting all the cum he can get, smiling at you.

"Best meal of my life." His blown out pupils take a look at your naked body that he didn't get to see before, salivating at the sight. "Did I do a good job?"

You run a hand down your face, covering the lower part with your palm. Your head's pounding, actively playing thoughts like a broken record.

There's a scratch, and you blink, hiding the light coat of water that covers your eyes. You curse, averting them away from Hanma's awaiting face.

"No, no you didn't." You take his hands, leading them away from your body and holding them together by the wrists. "It's infuriating..."

The words die out in your throat, mutter lost before Hanma can hear it.

"Wha—What?" He breathes out, panicked eyes growing bigger at the clicking of your tongue. Hanma can't stop the loud moan that breaks out of him when you sink down on his cock, shouting at him through short puffs.

"You're so fucking useless, it makes me sick!"

Hanma can't process what you spat out to him, busy writhing from the pleasure that rains down on him with the way you're riding him.

A single hand stops his own from moving, Hanma perfectly capable of breaking that hold, yet he can't. Your hips move up and down, rocking on him and sending a knot tempted to break at the slightest move through his body, washing down on him.

"S'good..." He mumbles, tongue poking out from his lips. "You're s'fucking good, keep—"

You moan when his tip hits the perfect spot, closing your mind from any intrusive thoughts.

Hanma joins you, begging for more.

"Faster, please—" Though you can't hear his pleads, nor the way he tells you he's about to cum, deprived of it throughout the entire night.

You are in bliss, squeezing your eyes shut and following the same pattern, letting the tip of his painfully throbbing cock send you to a state where you can't think, where your brain doesn't take over.

You keep chasing after your release, ignoring Hanma's still hips, who have stopped meeting your own; leaving you full of his cum, legs trembling before you from the harsh orgasm he's having.

You don't give him time to recuperate, bask in the aftermath, mercilessly pounding on his now softening cock to keep going. Hanma's brows furrow, the ache in his body increasing with your pace.

"S—stop, hey..." He trails off, not able to pronunciate correctly due to the fog that covers his brain. "Please, I—I can't take it."

Hanma's eyes widens when his hands are free, your hand now wrapped around the lower part of his face, not letting him continue. Through blurry eyes, a single tear running down the side to the pillow, he's able to see his own cum leaking out of you, followed by your own as you finally reach your orgasm —huffing out a broken sigh, your back arching ignoring the buckling of your knees.

Hanma groans, the pain subsiding and now able to rest. In a starfish position, missing the heat of your body as it leaves his lap, his sight begins to obscure.

He hasn't experienced something quite like this ever, not with any woman he's had a chance with.

He's said it before, you've always been something else. It explains why his heart can't calm down once you're with him, or why a strange heat burns through his chest everytime he thinks about you.

Because in all these years, he's never not thought about you.

He can't put a name to the feeling, yet deep inside him he knows.

He knows because, before passing out from the ecstasy of the sex, he has the strong urge to have you in his arms. Since he doesn't understand why so many tears are streaming down your face.

Is he not good enough?

He'll never get to know, sadly.

thanks for reading <3 as a reminder, you can find the full fic (my ordinary life ; tokyorev x reader) on wattpad (HAITANITE) or ao3 (haitanology)

#hanma x reader #hanma shuji x reader #hanma smut #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma #hanma shuji #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers

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oh-saints · 1 year

Note

ruben dias and daughter of pep guardiola.

man.. when i got this request, all i keep thinking about is some forbidden, enemy-to-lovers trope so here it is! i hope you like it!

enemy

you and rúben dias can never be in the same room and it's the main reason why your father's head balding. so what changes?

rúben dias x guardiola!reader

word count: 4.2k

tw: 18+ for graphic sexual contents included inside (aka a sprinkle of smut); drinking, swearing, unprotected sex (and some angry/hate sex)

note: i was writing something along the line of enemy-to-lovers but got stuck midway until this request came in from @kkilp so here we are. my first smut? dang that feels weird saying it was also inspired mildly by anthony and kate of bridgerton (TV series; s2, 2021) but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so ofc this is not proof-read and feedbacks are always welcome! (now lemme go back to repent my sin and go back writing the charles leclerc story i've got...)

“another flower from your daughter, isn’t it?”

rúben could hear one of the coaching staffs commented pep as the spaniard walked in with a huge bouquet of varied flowers on his arms, almost blinding the old man’s sight for direction. pep only laughed to answer his staff’s clarificatory question because it had indeed become a habit for that particular daughter of his to send a humongous array of flowers to her father whenever he and his team won something.

last night happened to be the time when the team had won another EPL title. thus, the biggest arrangement being sent to her father’s office. it was funny for some as she always matches the size to the prestigious level of a trophy.

but of course the entire building loves her. she’d sent each and everyone in this building a bouquet, directly to their houses, albeit in smaller size than the ones delivered for her father. but still, complete with the words hard work always pays off. congratulations, champions! typed perfectly in the middle of the card.

being a florist, she’d also send a basket to anyone who was celebrating with carnations, anyone who was newly having kids with hydrangeas, anyone who was injured with sunflowers.

but him.

he’d like to think himself as someone not petty so no—it wasn’t because he didn’t get a bouquet for himself. he could buy himself one so big the smell would’ve made him throw up for days if a mere basket of flowers was his problem. he just didn’t understand why people couldn’t see how she acted beyond the artificial care and love she’d faked behind those flowers.

rúben was probably the only one who couldn’t relate towards all of the love directed towards her. he could only hope the people would soon belief what he’d gone through, as everybody thought he was crazy for saying she was cold, aloof and rather unfriendly as of late.

as of late being the key word here because god damnit, they used to be so… close? well, he thought they were close but it seemed that for her, they were amicable at best. because one day, she just started to shut him off and she wasn’t shy to show him that. and only to him, no one else. no one of close friends would—and could—do that overnight.

it was similar to those mean girls kind of story plot where you know she’d give you scrutiny so directly but so indirectly in the eyes of everyone else. except that the ending was no where near, unfortunately, for she was now sporting off the cold shoulder to him throughout the whole EPL celebratory party.

rúben was inclined to believe she intended to rile him up even, as she danced the night away with those crazy drunkards he called his teammates. jack, kyle, john amongst the name. he prides himself in moderate amount every time he drinks and he intends to keep it while he’s still an active athlete, but fucking hell did he want to drink till his head bang in the same rhythm as the bass pounding the dance floor.

he just wanted to barge in the midst of the group and had fun with her, just like they used to back when he was still in his freshman year on the etihad side. if she didn’t like it, then good. it gave him the chance for confrontation of whatever it is she was doing.

fuck it, he’d said to himself as he got up from his seat, tired of being the sober friend to a bunch of kids. might as well have my fair share of fun, even if it didn’t involve getting her into the picture.

but in all honesty, she’d seen this move of his. this was what solidified her justification of staying away from him. the moment he was bored out of his mind, that was when he started preying for another long-legged bimbo to bring home.

she could only pray for the woman’s well-being afterwards because she’d learned it the hard way.

for her, rúben was siren personified. he’d talk his way to your pants, feeding you to his soul until you’re left dry. thank god he didn’t make it way past the whole sexual thing—she’d kept him at bay for so long that he’d got bored and the moment she was about to give in was the moment she found out about him moving on.

that night, when she dropped by his house for an impromptu netflix and chill session, when she was ready to accept whatever his advances that night. only for his leading lady to greet her by the door, wearing only lingerie and his shirt unbuttoned.

despite them going apart now, it never soothed her heartbreak.

but she had to see him all the time, thanks to her father’s job. that fact upset her beyond belief that she couldn’t seem to escape him. especially when everyone talks highly of him, when everyone loves him.

there were so many times she wanted to spill out the hot tea but she resisted because it wouldn’t do any good—for her, for him, for her father, for anyone. people would take her as a bitter bitch that didn’t get the dick, she’d held higher regards for herself than to stoop so low.

“let him go and have fun with me.”

the club’s lightning was too dark for her to make out who the hell that was, whispering behind her like he had the world in his palm. obnoxious dick, she’d muttered to herself.

“what did you just say?”

“go away.”

men, couldn’t take a no for his answer as he grabbed her wrist rather harsh, trying to exert some power over her. “no, you didn’t—"

“she said go away, mate,” weird how she knew it was rúben standing behind her before she could see him. “which part of that sentence did you not understand? should i cut off your hands instead?”

the stranger tried to hard not to be intimidated by rúben’s stare but his grip on her hands said the otherwise. “you wouldn’t.”

“would you like to try?”

if she wasn’t just assaulted by the man, she would’ve taken a pity because rúben seething anger and deep distaste like you’re a disgusting human being that doesn’t deserve to live wasn’t something she’d like to experience herself.

“are you okay?”

she didn’t realise she was watching the man scurried off as if he’d caught on fire when rúben went ahead and touched her herself. she’d froze at her place, not knowing where to stand because his hand was placed exactly where the unwanted touch happened—partly she got reminded of what had just happened to her, partly she’d gladly take rúben’s touch over anyone else she didn’t know of.

“hey, you’re okay?”

she couldn’t comprehend what was happening and it felt suffocating to be the centre of everyone’s attention, so she dashed for the restroom for a bit of space.

“talk to me,” she could hear rúben’s voice from the other side of the door, solid 10 minutes after she entered the loo. he’d understood, she whispered to herself as if it was a wonder rúben was smarter than he let on. “please say you’re okay.”

as if she didn’t know the rúben that deserted her for another woman.

god, she hated him for doing this to her. “go away, rúben!”

“like hell i will,” he spat ferociously behind the doors that it startled her. but the soft voice that followed after was more shocking it ran shivers down her back. “i need to know you’re okay.”

the caring thought that laced his words didn’t escape her because she knew, no matter of an asshole rúben was, rúben was always genuine with his words. it was his past actions and the difference between actions and words that scarred her for life—well, at least up until now.

but it was enough for her to choose to shut up instead of acting based on her turmoil of emotions. she’d silently tidy up, fixing her hair and lipstick, while watching the women coming out of the loos one by one till it was only her left. in hope he’d left if she stayed inside for far too long for his liking, then she could sneak out of this place from the backdoor.

all plans were shattered, though, when the door slammed wide open and revealed rúben bulldozing his way inside like a monster truck exhibition. the veins on his arms and neck was bulging angrily, as angry as his face.

“what the fu—”

“i said i need to know you’re okay,” after he spit the words as if that should be obvious to her, he then proceeded to lock the door behind him. “didn’t you hear?”

cowards, afraid anyone walk on you in a woman’s bathroom? “i did, but it doesn’t mean i have to answer you.”

“puta madre,” if she didn’t hold on to the painful memory he’d learned spanish from the ex-girlfriend she met one night too long ago, she’d go meek and weak at his impeccable multilingual tongue. “you’re so frustrating! why is it so hard for you to tell me so?”

“why do want to know?”

“because some asshole just groped you in the ass!” one of his hands shot towards her direction, gesturing from her head to toe in frustration. of her not seeing his point. “surely you’re not okay. no one is after such terrible event.”

“there, you said it youself. i’m not okay,” she rolled her eyes at his reply, hands folding in front of her chest. “why do you care, anyway?”

he shot him a look that was scaring her, and not of the violence he was capable of doing. “do i have to have a reason to care about you?”

“go back in there, rúben,” she tried to stand her ground, faking a rather tired expression when, in fact, she was masking her fear as he dared himself to step closer to her direction. “your drunk friends need your care more than i do.”

his eyes remained intense, burning her down as if she was merely a clothing to burn, as he stepped in front of her. his strong aura forced her to look up at him, and she tried to put some defiance into it in order to show she was in control. or trying to.

“but i don’t care about them,” he lowered his voice as he didn’t see the need to speak louder when his opponent was right under his nose. he knew he’d got her when she shifted her stance from the right leg to her left one. “i care about you.”

the statement obviously caught her off guard, as outmost surprised laced the pair of eyes that—luckily—resembled her mother more. rúben took the chance to close down the gap between their lips, as fast as lightning before she changed her mind, goading her to open up.

as soon as he heard her groaning in surrender, the inside of him ignited in delight. rúben pushed more than what she thought she could give, for he knew she could give more than she thought. his effort drove her to the edge of the sink behind her and she grunted at the crash against the porcelain, but bloody hell the sound effected rúben so much he felt blood rushing south and adrenaline took over his brain.

he’d lifted her up and placed her on the sink in a pace so swift she’d only managed to blink once. he’d slid his hands down her calf, up north towards the rim of her sundress, and she gasped at his ardent touch. felt so hot against the air conditioner of a room so big but only filled with the two of them.

rúben took the liberty to explore her mouth the moment the passage was opened. despite having his eyes closed, he savoured each and every stroke he made for the mental map of hers and he savoured the feeling of her hands sliding everywhere her hands could reach in desperation to hold on for herself while her body unconsciously gave away her control the moment rúben touched the edges of her panties.

she’d arched her back so flexibly rúben had to pull back a bit and admired the crescent shape she was bending herself to be. but not even the moon could compare with the beauty puny in his hands, with pink mauve lipstick smeared lightly and dishevelled hair against the mirror.

“god, you’re beautiful,” and it was all it took for her to sit up and grab his shirt to forcefully meet her lips halfway.

and for rúben, nothing was sexier than when a woman tried to put up a fight against him, even after well-knowing he’d win anyway. so he’d let her think she won, nuzzling his nose downwards, smelling her perfume, her body odour and her desperation all in one. he’d left kisses on his way down, the same moment his hands peeled down the flimsy strap of her sundress, and he swore he’d never touch finer things than the shape of her.

he’d palmed every surface his hands could reach, and took every choked breaths she emitted from his touch. but when he touched the centre of her underwear and felt the drip she was heavily producing, he’d become a goner. he couldn’t take it anymore.

without detaching his lips from her healthy skin, he pulled back an inch to give himself space to undo his pants. when she realised this, she’d drop her hands from his hair and shoulder to help him stash away the jeans. they laughed at this somehow, before they turned muted when rúben dias junior was out of the cage, standing tall and unwavering like him.

the anticipation killed him because jesus christ, with the desire running down her face, he wouldn’t be able to do much anymore. so he kissed her before she could have any second thoughts while his hands aligned himself to her. the first skin-to-skin contact left them breathless, in every literal sense of the word, and rúben could see what she was feeling before she could say anything. the way she closed her eyes in ecstasy as he slipped himself inside of her couldn’t lie.

“oh shit,” he’d read normally women was the only who went all goo at a drop to a man’s voice, but this time rúben could piss himself hearing her doing it. “that feels so good.”

eyes closed, slow pants coming out of that gaping mouth and fucking hell she looks amazingly sexy. and she feels like how she looked like, good god. rúben couldn’t stop his hands from grabbing the sides of her face, some hairs scrunched in them, accidentally closing some parts of her mouth but it didn’t stop her from letting out hot, broken breaths when rúben started moving out of her.

“fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” the portugese giant nipped the bottom lips that looked so juicy from all the kisses exchanged between them, from him. “all for me, huh?”

“yes, you—oh!” she yelped like a siren when rúben slammed himself back to her. “do it right, rúben. do me right.”

rúben didn’t need further command to that, for sure.

she moaned so disgustingly dirty as he guided his cock back and forth, inside and out the now-slick fold, to the brink of heaven on earth. every time he pulled out, she’d moan in pleading, desperate to have all of him inside of her that anyone hearing her whimper would definitely take a pity on her.

“fuck! right there!” she screamed in pleasure as she held rúben’s wrist that was holding her in the face and she wasn’t lying about it. with the way she was rocking his girth and the pressure she’d put on her grip, she was close to the edge. “right there, right there!”

“come on, baby. let go for me.”

fuuuuuuck! ugh, fuck, fuck!

“oh yes, that’s right, baby,” he was now panting so hard the mirror above her was now covered in mist, but how could he stop himself when he looked down and there was the most amazing sight he’d set his eyes on. he ended where she began and she ended where he began. “that’s my girl.”

something inside of her clicked like the electric circuit and all the sudden it was black. but not a frightening blackout, more like black with stars on the back of her head. “fuck, rúben—”

rúben?

rúben dias?

the moment her brain registered the voice indeed belong to rúben dias, she went completely still that rúben had to break her moment. “hey, what’s wrong?”

she badly wished the earth could swallow her right now. the girth still inside of her be damned.

she pressed the crescent eyelids he’d come to love, for they looked as pretty as the moon outside, in a manner rúben didn’t want to know why. because it looked like she didn’t want to open her eyes to meet his. because it looked like regret.

“baby—”

“don’t, rúben.”

she cut him off with the sharpest blade available under her arsenal, her intonation, and at that moment it felt like those film moments when he froze after she stabbed her, digesting the pain and the shock that blanketed the moment.

“what did i do wrong?”

“this, rúben,” and she clenched her jaw, as if it pained her. as if it didn’t pain him to look at the expression she was sporting on her face now—here comes the old, cold you, rúben regretfully noted. “this is what’s wrong. what are you thinking?”

and there was the pair of eyes he loved, for they always speak the truth words lie about. but this time, rúben wished she didn’t open them, for they always speak the truth words lie about, and this time eyes and mouth were seething with anger.

“am i just another rebound for you?”

now that was a serious accusation. “where the hell does that come from?”

“you don’t like me, rúben,” if she wasn’t spitting stupid thoughts, rúben would certainly take the pleasure to fawn over her fiery stance right now. nothing pleased him more than putting people down to follow the order, and she certainly exuded rebellion from her eyes alone. “you never do.”

his large hand jumped to pull her face upwards to face him, rather powerfully to show who’s the boss and she just crossed the line. the movement caused his dick to slide back deeper into her, unexpectedly that she had to hold herself from moaning at the feeling—this feeling as a whole, more likely—but the distance he eliminated between them allowed him to inhale her suppressed whimper.

peering down to her in an arrogance manner she wanted to wipe from the faces of the earth, rúben raised his left eyebrow, challenging her back. “if i don’t like you, why did i just fuck your brains out?”

“as i said—”

“rebounds, you say?” and he didn’t intend to let her speak, as he instead pulled her closer to him by the waist. the sensation he could pull out of her mouth was the only thing he allowed between them, broken gasps and all. “if you know me as well as you think you are, then tell me,”

her chest was burning at the sensation he was whispering so close to her, inhaling what she exhaled, inhaling what he exhaled. on fire at the sensation of him pulling out slowly from her at the same time the hand on her waist travelled inside, towards the aching clit deprived of the friction from his groin.

“tell me, baby,” god, rúben wanted to close off the gaping mouth, as shut as the fluttering eyelids. “have you ever heard of me doing that? have you ever seen me, with your own eyes, doing that?”

“rúben—”

his hand was so close yet so far, caressing the insides of her thighs, and she hated the fact she needed him to touch her. now, or else she’d combust. “answer me.”

“no—”

“there you go,” and there was the satisfaction he’d recognised from the arch of her back and neck, as he hurled himself back to her soft spot, allowing him to pepper kisses along the underside of her chin, down along her throat, nailing her in her place further. “god, if only you knew…”

only when rúben pulled away from the space in the middle of her decolletages did she open her eyes once more, and she was rendered rather speechless at how rúben was looking at her. she was almost scared to ask but knew she needed the answer. “knew what?”

“it’s maddening,” the hand in her face moved to a different angle, now his forefinger was tracing the edges of her lips. the very one he destroyed with the harsh, heated kisses they exchanged. his artwork. “how much you consume my very being.”

before her heart could leap out of its place, rúben kissed her lips once more with so much fervour and everything else remained in his body. different to their earlier kisses full of lust, this one was lingering but unspeakable feeling and passion and lust and love.

love?

whatever they were feeling certainly wasn’t love, was it? they hate each other, for fuck’s sake.

“eyes on me, querida,” rúben’s voice snapped her thoughts away and she obeyed him, forgetting how easy it was to spare this particular man the hatred. before she saw that ex-girlfriend of his on the doorsteps, before she resorted to her self-defence mechanism.

“hello, there,” and he felt her melting away, as he recognised the whimpers she let out this time while he was rocking their boat in rhythm back and forth was nothing sort of what she gave 15 minutes ago. “there’s the eyes i love the most.”

love?

but before her mind could drift somewhere else, rúben finished off what he started. he drove her to the end fast and without mercy this time, leaving him helpless under his control of pace. his hand was no longer feathering the skin, they’d made themselves useful by dipping into the blossoming bud between rúben and her. the crude touch against her soft, plump crown was the striking contrast she needed to release herself for the second time, all frustration and thoughts were now focused on the finishing line. so focused that she didn’t feel herself shaking, trembling as rúben assaulted all of her senses—his kiss, his touch, his smell, his drive.

rúben sensed her going weaker from his all-out attack, not wanting to hold back himself either, not when he finally had her within his whim. he took her hands to curl them behind his neck and pulled up her knees so he could lift her up before turning their position around. he was now sitting on the lid of the toilet nearby while she sunk down on him and good fucking lord did she wrap him, all of his 9-inches, so tightly and so deeply like she was made for him.

and she felt it, too, for she sling her arms on his shoulder, hanging for her dear life. rúben couldn’t help but pull her in his grasp, closer than before—no air, no space between them—and the feeling of conjoining with her altogether almost undid him before her he had to stop himself from moving. rúben rested his head on her chest, wanting to calm himself down first as he placed open-mouthed kisses and nips on the outline of her nipples, but the action seemed to turn her on as he felt her clenching around him.

“fuck, don’t stop,” he involuntarily said, and she took it as an invitation to take the wheel from him and ride them out. “fuck, baby. fuck yes, i’m coming.”

“oh, yes, yes, yes!” she’d screamed as rúben manoeuvred her hips back and forth. combined that with the sinful components of his mouth against her breast, licking and sucking the sensitive bud like there was no tomorrow, it didn’t take long for her to reach her, by far, most satisfying high. “oh joder, rúben!”

she’d relish the feeling of soaring high in the sky all over again as she came down to earth. rúben was already holding her by the waist and a small part of her back so she didn’t crumble down trembling messily, small kisses were already scattered all over the hollow part on her shoulder blades, like he didn’t care if she just pulled out his hair so hard she was now afraid he’d catch up to her father’s balding.

“i love you,” but this time she didn’t go all ice on him. “i’m sorry i made you think the otherwise.”

and rúben, being the perfect gentleman, proved how sorry he was by sending her a bouquet of flower the next day. her, a florist, a bunch of imported fresh white tulips before she could wake up and go to the flower market early in the morning. how he did that when it wasn’t tulip season, she didn’t know, and the effort didn’t pass as overlooked by her eyes.

yes, the effort of scouting the rare tulips, but most of all the effort he’d go just to saywhat the flowers implied; i’m sorry. just like his words.

of course he was forgiven.

607 notes · View notes

loudblonde · 11 months

Text

Perfectly Content, Simon "Ghost" Riley/Male Reader

Summary:

Simon comes home to find his husband missing, distraught he gets his team to help find him, only to end up getting shot by a poison-laced bullet.

Or Simon's husband is more badass and connected than even Price realises.

word count: 3,4K

warnings: the aftermath of torture, getting shot, almost dying, violence

author note: The ending was a wee bit rushed as my arm was starting to hurt too much,

Ghost knew from the moment he saw (Y/N), that no matter what, that man meant more to him than he could ever comprehend and that scared him more than he could explain.

(Y/N) wasn’t even military, he was a civilian that Ghost had met out and about, an accidental bump into each other… It was like something out of a romance book. (Y/N) had grabbed Simon and forced his heart to beat to his rhythm. Ghost was trapped in the emotions and it scared him.

He knew he had more enemies than he could count and for one of them to get a hold of someone innocent… he was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been living under Mister Riley’s roof.

So, he hid him away from everyone, (Y/N) had no family, no friends, he had been completely new to town and the idea of falling in love quickly hadn’t been something (Y/N) had seemed against. Ghost had bought a plot of land in a forest where an old house stood on it, he had gotten water, electricity and Wi-Fi out there, so his perfect little civilian husband never lacked anything. Sure, he would buy in bulk at the grocery store nearby, but (Y/N) never seemed to dislike it or complain. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N)’s waist, he kissed the back of his neck, letting the morning rough beard he had yet to shave scratch over his neck. (Y/N) chuckled and leaned back against him. “Si, I am cooking waffles, a little patience, please.” There was no bite to the sentence.

“I know… my love. I know.” Simon said. “But you just looked so delicious from behind.” That comment earned him a light jab in the ribs. He glanced at the fruit cut up for the day, perfect cubes as always, Simon didn’t know who else had such complete mastery of knives. (Y/N) always said his mother had been very strict about knife safety though there was more to it than that… Simon simply didn’t care more than just observing it. He didn’t massively care, he just found it… strange?

“If you keep sweet talking me, then we won’t get to eat the waffles before they are stale.” (Y/N) said with a slight smirk.

Simon hummed. “That would be a disgrace to your cooking, I can’t do that against you.” He spoke.

(Y/N) smiled and leaned his head to the side, he kissed Simon gently. “Why don’t you make the table, then I will handle the waffles?”

Simon kissed him again before detaching. He went through the simple demand- request and happily made the table. He looked at their white tablecloth, it held no stains. Simon wasn’t sure how but he knew it to be magic. There was no other plausible way to explain it other than that.

Soon, scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, beans and waffles were brought to the table, alongside a cup of black tea and black coffee. Simon took a sip of the coffee and smiled. “I miss your coffee whenever I am away.”

(Y/N) sat down and looked at the man he loved more than anything else. He smiled widely. “Well, then you just have a reason to get home to me as soon as possible.” He said and chuckled.

“That I do,” Simon said.

Marriage life, away from missions and the blood, death and tears of his job, was paradise comparable. He loved every moment and hated the goodbyes, for he knew that one day may very well be the last.

-------

Simon returned home, still halfway stuck as Ghost, his mind was reeling from the latest mission. He needed (Y/N). More so than normally. He hated and dreaded when missions got bad, but (Y/N) always had a way to bring him back from even the hardest and most repressed places. Simon knew he could trust (Y/N), he knew him to be safe.

"(Nickname), I am home,” Simon said as he entered, not finding it unusual that the door was unlocked this time of the day. He got no reply which worried him. Simon entered their living room from the foyer and was met with the sight of blood, broken furniture and bullet casings, his blood went cold as all possible enemies who could have targeted the ones he loved went through his head.

Panic set in as everything started stirring around him. He pulled out his phone and dialled one of the few numbers he had bothered to save. Price. It rang once before he heard Price pick up, before he could even say hello, Ghost spoke, “He is gone. There was a struggle.”

The line went silent for a few seconds. “Look for a body, I will contact Laswell. Make sure to not touch anything, if there is a note it will be visible.” Price said before sighing. “How are you holding up?”

“Just get Laswell.” Ghost said and hung up. He searched his house for hours, going over everything but there was no ransom note or even a claim to who had done it, which was mysterious. Though he had found more guns and knives strapped around the house than he had even brought in. Something was going on.

Price entered the house with Laswell and a few others from a research team. “You live very far out.” Price said as the team began. “If you hadn’t told me I would never have been able to find this place.”

“It’s home.” Ghost said, his mask still placed on. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything or anyone.” He sighed at that. “Yet… someone came looking for me and found someone innocent.”

“We will find him, Simon.” Price said. “Don’t even worry about it.” Price added as he touched his shoulder, he could see as Simon became Ghost, the tenseness of his shoulders ease eerily, his breathing slowed down and true to Ghost fashion, only his eyes revealed the true broken man inside.

“Of course, we will.” Soap said as he entered. He looked to Ghost with a sigh. “I didnae ken what this man means to you, but he must be special. That is all any of us needs.” Soap said and placed his fist against Ghost's shoulder. Ghost ignored the obvious signs of Soap having been home and comfortable enough with his family to let not only the accent slip but also talk more casual Scots around them. He tried to stop himself from a spiral of guilt but ultimately failed as his vision started honing in around him, black spots danced around his eyes- Simon felt Price's hand on his other shoulder.

“Good to have you back with us, son.” Price said as Ghost made eye contact. Both men shared a nod as they all let the forensics work the house. They found some blood that had to be tested and ran through their database, but other than that, there was nothing to indicate who came to go through the house.

As the team headed back to base, Simon had to wonder, would (Y/N) even be alright? Was his husband being tortured or was he dead already? Those thoughts hunted him.

-----

(Y/N) had been having a perfectly normal day off definitely only waiting for his husband to return from whatever war crime he and his team was up to this time around. He liked the peace of having a husband away, Simon was a good cover that he had come to love. It was not even a surprise the moment people came through the door, especially not when (Y/N) had many enemies of his own. He had so many in fact, he had died and taken on a new identity, perhaps he should have changed his first name… nah, he liked it so much.

He sighed heavily as yet another person entered the room with whatever torture gear, they thought would make him talk. (Y/N) knew better than to talk, he had been taught since childhood not to talk. He was exceptional in surviving torture, he had the scars to prove it, scars his husband never saw as all sex was done with the lights off, he knew his husband had issues with his own scars so he simply never pushed.

“You are going to give us what we want.” The not at all creative nor fun torturer said.

“For the last time, I do not know where this Ghost person is, I don't even know them!” He pleaded with false fear. He needed to get out, Simon was bound to be home anytime now and he just should not see the bruises and cuts all over his body… Simon would ask too many questions and… (Y/N) realised he would need to wait.

“Oh please, I know who you are, Iron Spider.” The torturer said making (Y/N) still completely. The tension in the room grew as (Y/N) stilled cold dead eyes on the man's back. “So, tell me, where is this little… pet project of yours.”

“If you knew who I was, then why even try to take me, I won't talk and you know that, don’t you?” He said, each voice careful and with a still tone.

“I have gotten Red Room Widows to talk, I can get you to talk as well.” The man said, bringing over what looked like a fucked-up knife. “Well, shall we?”

—

The team landed on the ground outside of a barn in southern Jutland, the air whipped around them as the helicopter took off again. Everyone was deadly still as they approached the barn, each second felt like hours as blood rushed through their ears, deafening them. Everything was alive around them. The mission was anything but simple.

One quick entry of the barn and already 4 enemy soldiers were dead. They had gotten reliable intel from one of Laswell’s more shady friends. (Y/N) was going to be there and not in good condition. Ghost used the anger of knowing (Y/N), his husband, was getting tortured.

They went down the hatch, killing everyone in the way, this seemed too easy but Ghost did not care, they had taken something of his and he was going to get it back.

Chatter filled his ears but it wasn’t important enough to be filtered through, they cleared room after room, getting everything dealt with before entering the final room. A man stood behind a torn up and bloodied (Y/N), two of his fingers were missing, and his shins looked broken and fucked up beyond repair, Ghost, at a single glance, could count well over 20 visible stab wounds, the worst part is, (Y/N)s right arms skin had been peeled back showing muscle tissue and veins freely. Ghost knew who this man was, his codename was infamous despite how silly it was, Chip, no last name or first name, allegedly some criminal family empire nepo-baby, a rumour had it he was ex-military. He didn’t doubt that at all.

“Ah, the infamous Ghost, thank you so much for making my job easier for me.” This Chip said and shot at Ghost with no warning. Ghost felt the bullet lodged into his shoulder, it felt like it had gone straight through but something felt wrong, he couldn’t hear how much (Y/N) screamed despite seeing his mouth move and himself trash around in the chair, Simon knelt down as pain soared through him, the bullet had been laced with something and he didn’t know what.

Someone pushed him onto his back and applied pressure on the wound. He barely remembered anything as his thoughts went dark.

—

Swimming

Cold wet

Swimming

Simon was swimming in water where he knew not the direction of up or down. All was pitch black, too dark for his own thoughts to even shine a light through it.

Simon knew time had passed but not how much

He was swimming again

In and out

Up and down

Careful and around

Voiceless

Thoughtless

Cold

Cold as ice

—

Watching Simon recover not only from a well-placed bullet wound but also from the poison of this Chip person was hard, (Y/N) knew he should have just risked blowing his cover and gotten out. His husband, who didn’t deserve anything like this, was dying. His contact was working on a cure, but Chip, being the son of the infamous Pitfall Viper, his poison would be bulletproof… (Y/N) had to stop his dark humour, it was only making him feel worse than he actually should.

“It has been a week,” Price's now familiar voice came from the door. “How are you holding up?”

Like Shit. (Y/N) thought but didn’t say it out loud. “I could be better but I have hope.”

“… Listen… I spoke with Kate and they interrogated this guy… Iron Spider is a myth and legend, why is he claiming that you are him…” Price said.

“If you ask, you already know the answer, John… I am not in the business anymore; I haven’t been in 20 years.” (Y/N) answered the question.

“Does Simon know?” Logically the next question.

“No.”

A sigh came from Price, reminding him just how shitty he felt. “Don’t you think he deserves to know?” Price is a man with a heart despite everything.

“… Tell me something Captain,” (Y/N) turned to him. “Wouldn’t you be hiding your ugly past from someone you love to protect them? I erased my whole existence, spent a decade making certain that I was named a myth and not a real breathing man.”

Price leaned back. “So, you love him?”

“With whatever is left of my soul and my whole heart… I was born into a world of murder and killing. Whatever we did and learned was always just to kill more as more people, there wasn’t an end… so, when I did see an end to it, I took it and I got out, no one before me or after me will ever get that privilege.”

Price frowned. “You say it is still happening today.”

“Are you even surprised? You have been working with anti-terrorism for as long as I have heard about you, why would people not be using children to start and end wars? It is no different than all child soldiers you have been shot at or shot yourself.” (Y/N) was calm, far too calm for Price's liking.

“That is different.”

“It really isn’t. You all get on this high and mighty horse. Yes, you have by all means saved the world from World War Three, but you are all just as bad as every single war criminal out there. This whole imperialist ideology you have been brainwashed with…. It is worse than any brainwashing done by the red room because you actually believe in it.” (Y/N) grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and left the room, leaving the captain to think and stew. (Y/N) knew he wasn’t going to run away or even escape from Simon, he loved Simon and Simon was dying for him… guilt he didn’t know he could feel wrapped its nauseating coils around his stomach, trying to force bile up through his throat. He didn’t allow it, he suppressed it deep down where all his other weaknesses resided. Weakness Mother was supposed to have trained him. He grimaced as he poured himself some hot coffee, it burnt his tongue… life as a civilian truly had made him weaker, Chip had been right at that, but (Y/N) prided himself on not being weak enough to reveal anything about Simon. He brought back a cup for both him and Price. He gave the man the cup and sat down.

“He wanted information on Simon, where he was and I think it is safe to assume we know why now… from what I know, you should be well aware of his mother, The Pitfall Viper.” (Y/N) said, humming lightly under his breath. “She was…. She is, she didn’t die, her accounts are still active and while it isn’t uncommon for others to run it, her whole family are very, the best word would be independent, from the rest of the more refined criminal empire of the world.”

Price looked down at his cup. “So, will his poison kill him?” Price asked, a slight shake to his voice betraying the cool and collected ‘Captain John Price’ persona he had.

“No… I have someone working on the antidote. It will be rough but he already has been given something to slow it down.” He informed the other before taking a sip of his now moderately hot coffee. “And if he doesn’t make it till then, I will work with you to bring down anyone or anything responsible for his death.”

“And if he survives?”

(Y/N) paused at that, the words swelled in his mouth to choke him. He had avoided it for years, been lying straight to Simon’s face… he wasn’t sure Simon would trust him after this. “He knows the whole truth… and if he still wants me, I will repair everything and do anything to make it alright.”

“And when he doesn’t?” Price asked.

(Y/N) looked at Simon. “Then I leave and no one will ever see me again.”

“Little hard to do on a wheelchair.” Price said.

(Y/N) chuckled and looked at Price. “You think that I don’t already have a plan in place? I survived the Red Room and survived escaping it. Sure, my sisters are more deadly than I am, but you can’t be a slob and escape.”

“How old were you when you escaped?” Price asked.

(Y/N) smiled a bit as he leaned back. “15. Which makes me 36 this year and Simon is only a few years older than I am. Price, I… love Simon, he is my weakness and the only one I would trust with my whole life. I have been taking care of him and him. We are good for each other and you can’t deny that.”

“I am not denying it, I have seen more of Simon than of Ghost for the last 3 years. Thank you for that, it is the only reason why I haven’t had you arrested yet.” Price said.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, you haven’t had me arrested because you fully know that you can’t, you have nothing on me, no one does. Iron Spider doesn’t exist and no one can testify that he does. He is a myth created to scare rookies. Don’t fuck up or get corrupt or the Iron Spider will get you.”

“The Soldier Bogeyman then.” Price said. “And you are content with that?”

“I am more than content with it. I love it. It means I can be with Simon and bring him back from the brink.”

Price stood up as a nurse entered the room. “I hope you are right about this.” Price left.

The nurse waited until Price left before looking at (Y/N). “You know, I never thought he would shut up.” The ‘nurse’ said.

(Y/N) chuckled a bit. “It is good to see you too, V.”

“You are lucky my idiotic son writes everything down, but I can’t promise this will cure him, he may stay in his coma for weeks or forever,” V said.

“That is fine, just give him a chance.” He said before watching her inject it into the IV drip. They said their quick goodbyes and (Y/N) stayed truly loyal to Simon and stayed while he slept.

—

It took 5 weeks before Simon woke up. (Y/N) was present and coached Simon through waking up. He had lost a lot of muscle mass, and he was much thinner than usual, but compared to a regular human, Simon still held some shape.

The conversation they had a week later once they were both in the sanctity of home was full of tears and apologies, Simon understood and knew but it still hurt. But they eventually figured it out. Simon’s rehabilitation and (Y/N)’s eventual rehabilitation were done together. (Y/N) taught Simon how to handle a civilian life away from the military and the action. It was hard but, in the end, they carved out a beautiful life with a retired service dog called Riley.

______

Aaaand that's it! Happy ending for you all!

If you liked this leave a like and reblog it! Reblogs helps more people discover my writing and liking doesn't do anything other then archive it in your own like folder, so please reblog it.

My requests are open! Feel free to pop over there after reading my pinned post!

#cod x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod men x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x you #male reader #lgbt #simon ghost riley #fanfiction

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 6 months

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Hey there Slug! I hope you ain't too buys and might have a lil fun with this one! Of each individual character, what are your respective favorite songs of theirs and why?

This is an easy ask to answer, so I'mma clear it from the pile and get to some older ones eventually.

I assume you mean solo songs only, right?

Under a cut for length because there are a bajillion boys in this series

Ichirou: I like his VA's rapping work in just about everything; he's really solid. Stage Ichirou also has a youthful quality I appreciate a lot, but of the main series songs... probably Break the Wall. It's high energy in a fun way. It also ties into a creative project I've been chewing on for years that's near and dear to my heart, although I'm not sure if I'll ever put it to paper and share it anywhere.

Jirou: I think Jirou's VA has a very pretty singing voice, so I like his softer songs. In general, I admire the "softer" aspects of Jirou's character and think that's where he shines best. So probably School of IKB, although I adore his choruses in Re:start.

Saburou: Requiem. I'm very, very, very into things that commit to being over the top and goofy, and I also enjoy combining classical and baroque elements with other genres. What's not to like here?

Samatoki: Gangsta's Paradise. The high speed rap is technically compelling. I generally appreciate v. fast rap since I enjoy learning and singing them. If the stage plays count, I really enjoy the emotion Samatoki's stage actor brings to Come Back to Me.

Juuto: ...There is some interesting text in the Personality section of Juuto's wiki page. (I have it pulled up to quick reference the song lists.) If anyone with wiki edit powers is reading this, you may want to clean that up... Anyway, I feel like they give Juuto great background music in just about every song, but Uncrushable takes the cake for me. I really like the BG music in that.

Riou: Move Your Body Till You Die, hands down. Goofy as fuck. Also, great workout music.

Ramuda: I find his main voice pretty grating, and his usual styles of music aren't my favorite in general. So Ramuda songs don't do a lot for me. I appreciate Pink Colored Love for plot reasons, though.

Gentarou: The slower Hypmic songs rarely do a lot for me, but I found myself enjoying Yume no Kanata a lot. Not sure I know why, necessarily...

Dice: 3$EVEN was one of the first songs I really enjoyed in Hypmic, and I still like its high energy today. In general, I'm impressed by Dice's VA's rapping ability and appreciate his parts in group songs a lot.

Jakurai: Like I said earlier, I'm not usually a fan of slow songs, so none of Jakurai's solos or duets have ever stood out to me. With that being said, I think Jakurai's speech style and slower rhythms makes him more fun and easier to translate w/ full rhyme and rhythm than many other characters. Like I think Labyrinth Wall would be fun to do a full cover of with syllable matching rhymes and line length while simultaneously trying to stick as close to the core meaning and tone as possible.

Hifumi: Both Champagne Gold and Don't Stop the Party are high-energy bops and great for working out. Slight preference for the former. I also really like his singing voice in group songs.

Doppo: Doppo's angrier verses in group songs are fun, but I'm especially fond of BLACK OR WHITE. In particular, I enjoy the DOTAMA cover. I'm a big DOTAMA fan for both his lyrical strength and considerable rapping chops. He's got a lot of songs that are really punchy and angry in this exact vein, and I love throwing on a playlist of his stuff while grinding out tedious work projects. Hahaha. Just rapping along "I don't want to work. I don't want to work. I don't want to work. BUT HERE I AM, WORKING!!!!" furiously under my breath.

Sasara: Comedian Rhapsody is really fun. This is another song I would love, love, love, love to try and do a full translation w/ preservation of rhyme/line length/jokes. Not for sharing--at that point it's just kinda showing off--but it's fun to chew on bits of it when I have moments of free time.

Roshou: Like most of the slow song characters, Roshou's solos aren't my favorite. I guess I prefer Under Sail to Own Stage for its background music.

Rei: All of Rei's songs are wild to the point of me liking them for the goofiness. If you commit to the bit, I'll enjoy it 9 times out of 10. Doesn't matter what the bit is. Shiro to Kuro is probably my favorite. LOVE the "heh heh we are up to no good" NPC villain energy of that song. But also, shout-out to his singing in Enishi, even if it's nigh-on intelligible to me. I love the hell out of Enishi in general.

Kuko: The king of goof himself. Sou Gyaran BAM is probably my favorite, but I am--to some degree--into virtually every song he's in.

Juushi: Wow, I'm listed as a source on this wiki page, lol. Anyway. Juushi's aesthetic as a whole isn't my cup of tea, but I have a soft spot for Moonlight Shadow, because the first two times I heard it were on Spotify shuffle while I just so happened to be scrubbing a toilet. So for a couple months after, I would put Bad Ass Temple on every time I cleaned the bathroom. Hahaha.

Hitoya: One and Two, and Law is so fucking goofy. I adore it. The live version with the airhorn? Chef's kiss.

Otome: Fuck it, let's do the ladies too. Out of all of her musical appearances, I like Just Do It the most. It adds such an interesting strength to her character, and the English portions are done super well.

Ichijiku: Love, love, love her part in Verbal Justice for its strength. This is yet another song I think would be fun to do a hell TL of, and then I remind myself that trying to rhyme "Kadenokouji" in English is a fool's errand.

Nemu: Her singing voice in WINK is nice, but I love her part in Femme Fatale for its energy. "I'm Nemu, and this is my masterpiece" Fuck yeah it is

#not a translation #asks #personal asks

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bitimdrake · 2 years

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cobra kai season 5 rewrite

Alright I’m rewriting everything Johnny & Robby for the entire season.

I’m constraining this to the format of TV (no narrative prose, gotta show things on screen, limited time each episode, etc) and fitting it to the structure of the rest of the season (both plot wise, and matching the general tone and rhythm of the show, keeping the same character in the lead and not skewing screen time towards others). Against my better judgment, I will even be following the show’s lead in trying to move towards a reconciliation between Robby and Johnny despite Robby objectively being better off just cutting him out at this point.

I’m also not tackling anything else but these two. This is already enough work.

Basically: this is not just a fix-it fic. I got plenty of other ideas for fic. This is an attempt to actually achieve what the show thought it achieved, under the exact same constraints.

This is very long. You may prefer it on ao3. 10k+ below the cut:

EPISODE ONE

As before: Robby is tentatively happy to be on a trip with his dad, Johnny is buying dumb gifts like the FBI shirts. Robby finally pushes Johnny to admit why they’re really here, and then is pissed when he learns it’s for Miguel.

Johnny tells that technically true but disingenuous story about heroically looking for Robby after the school fight, and says that bit about how he messed up with Robby and Miguel and doesn’t want to live with his regrets. Everything is the same up until he goes to call Carmen.

We adjust the dialogue here slightly. Johnny tells Carmen he really hopes Miguel is okay, knowing what a dangerous guy Hector is. We see this have an effect on Robby. Then Johnny tells Carmen, no, she should stay in LA because it’s not safe here. Robby’s pensive expression breaks. He frowns—of course his dad doesn’t want Carmen in danger, yet has no problem dragging him along.

“Are you sleeping with Miguel’s mom?” Robby asks when Johnny comes back to the car.

“No,” says Johnny. “We’re dating.”

Robby takes this in. We see it all on his face—bitterness, jealousy, sadness, and mostly disappointment in himself for believing in the first place.

“Let’s just go,” he says.

As before: At the bus station later, Johnny gives Robby money for the trip and snacks. Robby doesn’t want to stay and isn’t thrilled to leave. Johnny says he’s going to go ask the surfers about Miguel and sorta apologizes for dragging Robby into it.

Robby watches him walk away with a frown, then pulls out his phone and starts looking something up.

Same scene of Johnny interacting with the surfers and Robby leaping in when Johnny is about to be strangled. But rather than this somehow making everything okay after the fight, Johnny reaches out and Robby pulls back.

Before Johnny can start, Robby rattles off an address (the same one Miguel had earlier). That’s where Johnny can find Miguel, he says. At Johnny’s baffled and impressed look, Robby points out if Miguel can look up his dad, they can do the same thing.

“You seriously never thought of that?” says Robby. He huffs. “Anyway, you should start looking there.” Robby makes to leave.

Johnny stops him. Hey, that was pretty cool the way they fought together, right? Make a great story, right? Robby could still stay and help him find Miguel. “I’m really trying here, kid.”

Robby’s far more collected than he would be in previous seasons, but he’s still not having it. “Sure, you’re ‘trying’ to fix your mistakes and help Miguel by making up some fake father/son trip.

“And all that bullshit about fighting guys at a chop shop for the van,” he continues. “Did you even actually look for me back then?”

Johnny insists the chop shop fight was real and he did. Robby challenges him—if he was out looking with Mr. LaRusso, then why wasn’t he there when Mr. LaRusso came to the rehab center?

“LaRusso was being an asshole and I had to get away from the guy,” Johnny says. (Robby scoffs.) “And all that after he dragged me out there in the first place—”

“He dragged you out there,” repeats Robby.

Johnny falters, tries to say that’s not what he meant—but we the viewers know it is, and Robby isn’t buying it either.

He shakes his head. “This was a mis...” Robby sighs before he can finish the line. “Forget it.”

Robby heads back to the bus, with a parting line of, “Good luck finding Miguel.” Impossible to tell if it’s a genuine sentiment or bitter sarcasm.

In our Silver-narrated episode closing montage, rather than unearned clips of Robby and Johnny being buds, we get a clip of Johnny sadly watching the bus pull away. Robby inside, leaning his head against the window, disappointed.

Elsewhere in this episode: Daniel shuts down his dojo and conspires with Chozen, Amanda’s unhappy, and Sam feels bad.

tl;dr change: Johnny is held accountable for lying and Robby still gets to have feelings.

Additional thoughts: Changes start slow. We're just taking the events of the episode and framing them differently instead of prioritizing Johnny’s pov above all, leading to a different ending. (Also inserting a moment where Robby finds out Johnny and Carmen are dating, because that seems like a thing that should actually happen on screen.)

EPISODE TWO

Not suffering through stupid car-towing/chili-eating shenanigans means we get time to reassign, but we’re actually going to keep it light on Robby and even Johnny this episode.

We don’t see Johnny until Carmen calls to relay Miguel found his dad and point him to the fight arena. Johnny says he’s close and on his way. After he hangs up he reaches for the FBI shirt, and then has a brief sad and guilty moment.

He tries another call, sent straight to voicemail: “Hey, Robby... Figured you’d be getting off the bus about now.” He searches for what to say. “Carmen’s got a great lead on Miguel and your tip put me right in the area... Shit. Just, uh. Let me know you got home safe.” He hangs up, regretful, and grabs the shirt for real this time.

Cut to the Call Ignored message on Robby’s phone. He looks up, having just gotten off the bus back in the Valley. Shannon is there to greet him with a hug.

(Is this a questionable timeline for the bus trip? Absolutely, but I will be giving the timeline of this show exactly as much realism as the writers do.)

We jump ahead to Robby unpacking his bag at home. (Based on editing and pacing, this may be immediate or there might be a scene from a different plotline in between.) The set design reinforces that his home life with his mom has improved: the apartment is clean and well kept, and Robby has a real room instead of a couch.

Shannon’s trying to cheer him up, but it’s not working. She says she really thought this trip would be a good thing. Robby doesn’t say much until:

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way you wanted,” Shannon says.

Robby shakes his head. “It worked out the way it always works out. It’s all about him and his guilt and Miguel.”

For a moment here, there’s a hint of Robby’s old S1-3 vicious bitterness—before he visibly pulls himself back, takes a deep breath.

“But that’s on him,” he says, clearer and stronger. “I’m done wrecking my own life to get his attention. If he actually cares about more than making himself feel better, he can put some effort in for once.”

Shannon smiles, proud. “For what it’s worth, I hope he does. You deserve that.”

Robby sighs. “As long as it’s not the same tired apologies and bullshit stories...”

We see something occur to him as he finishes speaking.

“Hey, when I came to you when I was on the run...why did you call Mr. LaRusso?”

Shannon wasn’t expecting that, but tells Robby that she had been talking to Daniel ever since he went missing. She recounts him calling the hospitals and homeless shelters and checking in with her nonstop, so of course he was her first call. But they really didn’t mean for the cops to show up like that and she’s so sorry—

Robby cuts off the apology; it’s fine. (Unclear to us if he truly thinks there’s nothing to apologize for or if he’s just trying to smooth things over.)

“You know,” says Shannon. “I’m sure Daniel would be really happy to have you back.”

A beat as Robby considers—then shakes his head and says no. He’s not Cobra Kai anymore, he says, but he’s not so sure he’d be welcome back at Miyagi-Do, especially after he taught the style to another dojo. Anyway, a break from karate might be good for him.

Shannon doesn’t push. Things are somber for a moment, before she says something about being happy to have him back, teases him seeing Tory again. With the tension broken, the scene ends.

The rest of the Mexico plot doesn’t really have to change from Robby’s absence. Johnny loudly tries to ask around for Hector at the arena and provokes his paranoia. We can cut the fight with the MMA guy if we need time back since it’s pointless anyway idc. Miguel has a bummer time with his dad, and then reunites with Johnny.

Elsewhere in this episode: Chozen infiltrates Cobra Kai and Tory is conflicted.

tl;dr change: Mexico plot is adjusted to account for Robby’s absence, and we’re making the reconciliation more gradual.

Additional thoughts: Rehabilitating Johnny as a dad is a hell of a task, and we’re starting at a very basic level here: (a) he remembers Robby exists even when Robby isn’t around and (b) he shows any amount of concern for his son’s wellbeing. We’re also continuing to hold him narratively accountable for his failings/lies, and we’re emphasizing that it’s Johnny’s responsibility to make this relationship work and not Robby’s. The last ties into Robby’s character development from season four: even if he hasn’t forgiven his dad, he’s doing his best not to hurt himself with the anger.

We’re also adding just a little bit about Robby and Daniel/Miyagi-Do to try to give a slightly better build to his return later in the season.

EPISODE THREE

Slight replacement for the dialogue between Johnny and Carmen over Miguel’s terrible breakfast. Carmen asks him how things are with Robby. Johnny sighs; he doesn’t know. He spoke with him briefly and knows he’s home safe with his mom, but Robby didn’t really say much. Dragging him to Mexico was a mistake. He's been trying to work up the courage to go over there, but he doesn't want to mess it up again.

Carmen tightens her lips, sort of nods, but doesn’t actually say anything.

In the show this scene then turns into the set up for the fucking pregnancy arc. Instead, we’ll just have Carmen gag and have to spit out the food into her napkin before Miguel admits they should eat something else.

(replacing the scene where Carmen tells Johnny she’s late)

Later, on Johnny, nervously talking himself up outside an apartment: “Don’t be a pussy.” He knocks on the door.

Robby opens it. Moment of surprise.

“Hey,” he says, guarded.

“Hey, Robby,” says Johnny, and without letting himself chicken out, immediately asks if Robby wants to grab lunch with him.

More tired than anything: “Why, does Miguel need to be rescued from a diner?”

Johnny starts defensive. “No, I’m not—” But then he stops himself. Maybe a musical cue indicating he’s pulling on the Miyagi-Do influence. Johnny apologizes again for dragging Robby into all that; he didn’t want to miss his shot with Robby by leaving him behind, and then he blew it even worse. “I keep telling you I’m sorry and I want to do better, and then I never actually do it. So I’m asking now, no tricks, no Mexican fight clubs—”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Johnny finishes: “Do you, Robby, want to grab lunch with me, your dad? Just to hang out.”

Moment of real vulnerability on Robby’s face. He hesitantly agrees.

Over in the scene with Miguel, Hawk, and Demetri at the tattoo parlor, we need another little dialogue edit. Rather than marvel at Miguel and Robby being in a car together (since they weren’t), Hawk says he still can’t believe Robby went down there.

Miguel concurs, and relays that Johnny said that Robby even helped find him.

“Weird,” says Hawk.

Miguel shrugs. “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t have to actually see the guy.”

We can recycle Demetri’s line here—“Probably a good thing, since I’ve never seen you around him for more than two minutes together without a John Wick-style fight breaking out.”

Miguel snorts.

“Is he really quitting Cobra Kai?” asks Hawk.

“That’s what Johnny said,” says Miguel.

Carry on with the rest of the Miguel/Sam scenes as usual.

(replacing the scene where Johnny and Carmen buy a pregnancy test)

We return to Johnny and Robby at lunch, with their plates empty. Nothing is going wrong, but it’s awkward. Clear from Johnny’s demeanor that this is not what he wanted and he’s nervous. Clear from Robby’s face that he’s disappointed but not surprised.

Johnny says something, trying too hard to spin it—pretty great restaurant, huh? Really good burgers, right?

Robby, listless, “Yeah.” Then, only slightly better: “It was great. Thanks for buying.”

“I’m your dad; of course it’s on me.”

Brief moment of skepticism on Robby’s face.

Johnny sees it, tries to joke: “I mean, I figure I owe you a couple meals, right? Or a hundred.”

“Somewhere around there,” says Robby. “Maybe a few thousand.”

“Yeah,” says Johnny. “Guess I missed a lot, huh...” On Robby’s minimal reaction, Johnny pushes: “Come on, I’m trying to make up for it here. All of it.”

“All of it,” Robby repeats dully.

“Yes, all of it,” Johnny insists. “Name it, I'm trying to fix it. I'm trying to change.”

Robby hesitates, looking away. Then he lets it out: “You don’t even—like me.”

Johnny, distraught: “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Robby says, on a roll now. “You want me to make you feel less guilty, but you don’t like me. You’re always upset about something. You always assume the worst, you blame me when anything goes wrong, and then you—you forget all about me when it’s not convenient. And then you say you're changing, and try for three seconds before it all starts over again.”

“That’s not true,” says Johnny weakly. “I don’t...I don’t forget about you.”

Robby, annoyed: “Really?”

“I know I’ve never been there for you,” says Johnny, voice thick. “And you’re right, okay? I put all my shit onto you. But I don’t forget. I never forget about you.”

“Look,” says Robby, sighing. “I wanted things to get better, but... I’m not sure things are fixable between us.”

“No, please, come on, what can I do? Anything you want, kid. I’m not failing you again. I promise.”

“You promise...” Robby sighs, stands. “Sure. I don’t know, dad. Get your life together?” Clear to us he means it flippantly. “Thanks for lunch.” He leaves.

On Johnny. He repeats in a mumble to himself: “Get my life together...”

Equally clear to us that Johnny has taken this as a directive. He nods to himself, regaining energy.

We keep Johnny’s next scenes largely in tact, with superficial changes. Instead of baby stuff, he’s googling “how to get your life together for your son”. Cue ridiculous montage. He scrolls through WikiHow like it’s a work of genius. We see him replacing the picture on his wall; getting rid of the beer for the umpteenth time; cleaning the apartment.

He finds an article on connecting with your moody teenager. We see him stripping out the second room and filling it with things that are sorta related to Robby’s interests from the perspective of an out-of-touch dumbass.

This show loves absurd time frames and zero acknowledgment of financial ability, so we see him paint the entire room green, hang up “cool” posters of slightly-too-outdated teen bands and shows on the walls, struggle to put a skateboard-patterned sheet on the bed. We see him stumbling in the room with an armful of books, haphazardly shoving them on a shelf. We see him at LaRusso Auto, accepting a bag from a bemused Amanda. Back home, he opens it up to reveal a small bonsai tree, which he carefully places on the bedside table.

We end with him pulling out the same childhood drawing Robby saw back in season two and putting it up on the fridge.

Johnny’s next scene is when Miguel comes to ask for advice. Just minuscule edits here. Like in the show, Miguel ask what the deal is, and Johnny almost answers before deflecting.

Instead of a throwaway line about milk, we have a brief moment where Miguel sees the drawing on the fridge—but he brushes over it, more focused on his current woes.

Same as canon, Miguel relays his struggles with Sam, asks for advice, ending by saying he thinks Sam is still mad and him and he wants to fix it, but isn’t sure since they haven’t talked in a while. In our version, this line strikes even more of a chord with Johnny. We have a beat watching him process and relate to it, and his “I’ve been there” line is a delivered a little weightier.

As canon, he gives his advice, including, “If you own up to your mistakes, you always have a chance of making things right.” He tells Miguel to be honest with Sam, “And don’t give up.”

Our new scenes might be a little longer than the ones they replaced. However, we’re getting back time from cutting out Johnny’s last scene entirely (where Carmen confirms she’s pregnant and all hope of a half-decent story died). So it all works out!

Elsewhere in this episode: Daniel and Chozen find Barnes. Sam, in a personal crisis, breaks up with Miguel.

tl;dr change: Instead of an awful plot of Johnny trying to change for Carmen and a baby, Johnny’s trying to change for the kid he already has.

Additional thoughts: This is where the bigger changes start. We’re dumping the pregnancy plot to make room for a plot of Johnny actually becoming a better father. Robby doesn’t appear in this episode in the show, but we need to add him to make it work here.

Continuing to hit on the idea that fixing things is Johnny’s responsibility, not Robby’s. Fitting with his development, Robby is less confrontational, but it’s important to me that he’s still reluctant so that Johnny is the one who has to make the effort. Also important: Johnny is reaching out directly (rather than just talking about his guilt to a third party) and doing so in consistent, mundane ways, rather than relying on a dramatic grand gesture.

We’re also laying some subtle groundwork with Carmen here that might not be notable yet, but will hit next episode.

Finally, we need to fit with the often comedic tone of the show rather than be all doom and gloom, and I want to reuse things from the original where possible, so we’re giving Johnny some hope and a drive to improve, in his usual silly way.

EPISODE FOUR

As before, episode starts with Carmen having a cheesy romantic dream sequence about her and Johnny and Miguel being a family (and no Robby to be seen). Carmen wakes up happy in bed with Johnny.

Later we kick off the same idea of Johnny looking for a job over the phone, but we change things around when Shannon shows up.

(The plot device of Shannon going to her parents is no longer useful to us, so we’re ignoring it.) Instead of her coming to pick up Robby’s stuff, Johnny has invited her over to show off the remodeled room. Shannon lets Johnny tour her through it and ramble about getting a job (she suggests rideshares), before cutting to the point—why is he showing her this?

“I don’t know. I though maybe...Robby could...stay with me,” says Johnny nervously. “Like a week on/week off sort of thing.”

At Shannon’s look, he corrects, “Or maybe just weekends.”

He corrects again, “Or...one day a month?”

Shannon huffs a laugh. She says she is glad to see him making an effort—surprised, but glad—and is okay with Robby spending some time here “now that it’s no longer a biohazard.”

“Great!” says Johnny. “That’s great!”

“But Johnny,” says Shannon pointedly, “maybe you should ask him about this?”

Right. Yeah. Johnny agrees he will, though this is clearly the part he is most anxious to put off.

Most of Robby’s time this episode is in the water park plot. We need a little edit up top:

When Tory asks how Mexico went, Robby sort of huffs, wryly says it was a nonstarter. Tory is sympathetic about his dad. Robby shares that his dad has taken him out to lunch a couple of times and wants to talk to him later, but “I don’t know. We’ll see if it lasts more than a few weeks, right?”

He shakes it off, straightens. “But that’s up to him.”

We continue on with the scene, as Robby suggests Tory quit Cobra Kai. She’s upset, tension between them, carry on.

(replacement for the scene where Demetri helps Johnny get a phone)

On his way out of his apartment, Johnny happens to run into Carmen coming home. He tells her about the new job (and mentions having a nerd set up his phone for it, to cover the gap) and Carmen is happy for him. She gets less happy when Johnny continues about how he wants to get his life together for Robby.

Carmen’s discomfort could not be clearer to the audience. Oblivious, Johnny excitedly tells her about setting up the room, how he invited Robby over tonight and is going to ask him about staying here sometimes, etc.

“I didn’t realize you’d have him living here,” Carmen says tightly, and Johnny finally picks up on her demeanor.

Well, yeah, of course he wants Robby here, he says. Not all the time; his mom still has custody. But if Robby is willing to give him a chance, then Johnny will take as much as he can get.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” says Carmen. “I mean, with Miguel right here...”

“He’s my kid,” says Johnny.

“And he hurt mine,” snaps Carmen.

Johnny is taken aback. His confusion makes him defensive: “Wh—What did you think was going to happen? He’s my kid. You thought you’d just never have to see him?”

“I don’t know what I thought!” says Carmen.

She tries to sound calm and logical: “I just don’t know if Robby is a good influence to have around here. He seems violent and dangerous, especially to Miggy.”

Johnny’s only more upset. Neither are in a position to make up right now. His phone chimes, he says he has to go “pick up an uber now,” and storms off.

As before, at the water park Kenny goes after Anthony, Hawk intervenes, and Robby points out Cobra Kai’s influence to Tory.

Our last replacement scene was notably longer than the original. To compensate, Johnny’s next scene is notably shorter. Instead of a long comedy montage of him being the worst driver ever, we have a short montage of him trying to do well—correctly picking up riders, even if he pronounces names wrong—but letting his roiling emotions get the best of him. He’s brooding too hard and accidentally misses a stop until his passenger calls it out. He’s angrily drumming the steering wheel without realizing it, to another passenger’s annoyance. That sort of thing.

He gets mediocre reviews instead of constant one-stars, is annoyed at himself instead of being immature and shitty about it, and this time we can actually empathize with him.

As before, at the water park, Robby is trying to stay out of dojo fights, but also refuses to let Kenny get hurt. He briefly interacts with Miguel (for what is now the first time this season) and Hawk as tensions escalate.

We remove the scene of Johnny needing pawn shop guy to give him the “good parents shouldn’t be selfish lazy assholes” advice. We’ll steal back this time later.

As before, at the water park, Robby fails to get through to Kenny. The dojos have their stupid competition, marred by cheating. Robby shoves Hawk into the pool to stop him fighting Kenny, and Miguel comes over to push and confront him, before everyone gets kicked out.

(replacing the scene of Johnny calling Shannon)

Brief scene of Johnny coming home, exhausted. He stops in the walkway, looking forlornly at Carmen’s apartment.

Then he pulls out his phone. We see his texts with Robby:

Johnny: ‘Hi robby. This is johnny. I learned how to text on the smartphone now. Do you want to come over to my apartment tonight. I want to show you something. Sincerely johnny.’

Robby: ‘Ok’

Johnny is heartened, rereading the message. He gives once last look to Carmen’s apartment, then holds himself up taller and goes into his own.

At the water park, Robby and Tory argue as in the show and break up. Maybe add a little touch of continuity to indicate Robby is going over to his dad’s place next.

As he leaves, cut over to Miguel watching him leave with a scowl.

Hawk notices: “Hey, you want us to go over there?”

Miguel takes a deep breath. Says tensely: “No. Better to avoid the fight, right?” But his fists are clenched. End scene.

Finally, we use our stolen time to add a scene right at the end of the episode:

After Daniel and Amanda’s fight, cut to Carmen getting her mail in the evening at the complex. The glass door behind her opens—it’s Robby. Carmen recognizes him instantly, expression going hard. She dithers between staying and moving, turns at the wrong moment, and ends up colliding right into him. Mail falls to the ground.

Robby does not recognize her. He’s the picture of courtesy, immediately apologizing, bending to help her pick it up: “I’m so sorry. Let me help you, ma’am,” and so on. Carmen’s certainty falters for a moment.

“You’re Johnny’s son,” says Carmen, once she has her mail back.

Robby looks confused.

“I’m Carmen,” she says. “Diaz.”

Robby’s expression shifts, a muted oh shit.

“You know, we live right there,” Carmen says, pointing to the apartment. “Me and my mama. And my son.”

“I know,” says Robby quietly.

“Your dad wants you to move in with him,” says Carmen. “Or at least be here a lot. Where my son lives.”

Robby says nothing.

“I want Johnny to be happy, but I want Miguel to be a safe much, much more,” says Carmen.

“I don’t...want to hurt Miguel,” says Robby.

Carmen is out in force, ready for an argument with a temperamental delinquent; she clearly doesn’t know how to handle this. Stutters through a “Well...good.” Sticks to her guns, only slightly softer: “I don’t want to make Johnny chose between me and his son, but I have to prioritize mine.”

She excuses herself, having said her piece.

We linger on Robby. After a long moment, he turns around and leaves the way he came.

Elsewhere in this episode: Miguel and Sam try to be friends, and Silver pushes Daniel and Amanda apart.

tl;dr change: A totally new Johnny plot—instead of antics getting a job for the baby, a story addressing Carmen’s concerns about Robby.

Additional thoughts: My apologies to Demetri for cutting his one scene out. On the flip side, after nearly cutting Carmen from the last episode, we will now be making up for her screen time.

This started with me thinking that Carmen should get a chance to have complicated feelings about Robby and then it turned out that made for a major plotline. “I’m concerned about my boyfriend’s son being near my son” isn’t really something that can be addressed in one throwaway scene.

We’re also continuing to rehabilitate Johnny by letting the past four seasons turn him into a semi-responsible adult, rather than making him an idiot and jerk for humor. And, of course, we’re having him put in that effort for Robby for once, instead of some new baby. These episodes/seasons are too short to fully show Johnny putting in a consistent effort, so we need that Robby line to establish the lunch last episode wasn’t a one-off.

I admit this new ep is a little awkward structurally. Robby’s real plot this episode is at the water park, but he’s now also a major player in the Johnny/Carmen plot. But I think it still works, since most of his role in the latter doesn’t involve actually appearing, and his endings in the two plots are tonally consistent.

EPISODE FIVE

We’re getting rid of all of Johnny’s bullshit in this episode, which means significantly restructuring the Robby & Miguel plot. However, I am still honor bound to abide by the show’s all-but-stated rule on dramatic fifth episode fights.

(replacing the scene where Johnny manipulates Robby and Miguel into meeting at a restaurant)

After the opening scene with Silver and Stingray, we cut to Robby on his skateboard, scraping the ground to slow down. He stops on the street to look up. Camera turns to reveal Miyagi-Do.

Robby frowns at the sheet-covered sign, glances either way down the street, and hops the fence.

As he walks through the front, we get very quick flashes from the first two seasons: Robby meditating, Daniel telling him how to control his anger, Robby relaxed at the dojo. The music is peaceful; this is a serene place. He steps through the dojo and out into the yard—

Where Miguel, Hawk, and Demetri are messing around, fake-sparring. The first two immediately snap to anger on seeing Robby; Demetri holds back.

“What are you doing here?” Hawk demands, stalking over. Miguel is close behind.

“What are you doing here?” says Robby, confused. “I thought the dojo was closed.”

“So you figured you’d just break in, huh?” says Hawk.

Robby rolls his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“It is closed,” Demetri chimes in. “They just figured Mr. LaRusso wouldn’t mind if we used the space. Though I said it was a bad idea.”

Hawk shoots him a look—implied, come on, man, loyalty.

“Yeah, he won’t mind if we use the space,” says Miguel to Robby, pointed. “Because we were students here.”

“I was also a—” Robby stops himself, furious but trying so hard to suppress it. “Never mind. Stupid idea...”

Hawk eases off, content to see him backing up.

“Why don’t you just stay away from us, alright?” says Miguel. “And from here. And stay away from my home while you’re at it—You and Johnny can meet somewhere else.”

Robby shakes his head, turning away, mutters, “You sound like your mom.”

Miguel had just started to back off, but now he’s incensed—“What does that mean?”

“Forget it,” Robby says, making his retreat before it can turn into a fight. Miguel is still seething, but Hawk and Demetri entreat him back over.

(replacing the scene where Johnny manipulates Robby and Miguel into an “escape room”)

Later, Johnny knocks on Carmen’s door and ask if they can talk. She lets him in and they sit at the table.

Johnny speaks with clear preparation. He says he wants to clear the air. He’s not giving up on Robby, but he gets that she’s protective over her kid, and they should have talked it out instead of fighting. But Robby’s not what she thinks. “He’s not a bad kid. He’s just...” (guilty) “a kid who’s easy to blame.”

Carmen says she knows, and she’s sorry. Johnny gets to be protective too, and she knows that he wants a relationship with his son. She just didn’t want Miguel in any more fights, but she shouldn’t have tried to stop Johnny from having Robby over.

Johnny signs: “Yeah, well, might be a moot point...”

“What do you mean?” asks Carmen.

Johnny explains that he invited Robby over, but got stood up. Robby’s probably mad at him about something or other. “And probably right to be.”

Carmen looks guilty.

“Johnny,” she says. “I have to tell you something. I saw Robby the other night. He was coming to see you...”

“What?” says Johnny. “Is he okay? Do you know why he bailed?”

Carmen’s reluctant to admit it: “He was fine. I just...told him about how I don’t want Miggy to get hurt.”

Johnny puts two and two together. He leaps up. “Did you threaten my kid?”

“I didn’t threaten him!” Carmen pleads, still seated at the table. She reaches for him. “Johnny, please! I don’t want this to ruin us. I know you don’t either.”

“I don’t.” Johnny looks down at her hand, longing. Then he pulls back. “But his whole life I’ve put what I want ahead of what Robby needs. I can’t do that anymore.”

He shakes his head, disgusted and disappointed, and leaves. Carmen starts to cry.

Later is the scene where a spiraling Daniel comes to Johnny for help.

Most of this is about Daniel, so we don’t need to change the start. Johnny’s demeanor is a little more worn and down on himself, and we’re changing the bullshit “I got Robby out of there” line to “Robby got himself out of there”.

Towards the end of the scene, the conversation turns to Johnny, so we’ll edit more. Johnny telling Daniel he and Amanda are solid and will get through this remains the same, but just takes on a new subtext.

Instead of noting the “escape room” décor and accidentally inspiring Johnny to make the boys fight, we’ll have Daniel say that he noticed the drawing on the fridge.

Johnny says yeah, he’s trying to turn this into a real place for Robby. But he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it work...

Daniel responds that it’s good to see Johnny trying. “I’m pretty sure Robby’s always wanted a relationship with you, even when he’s angry. I don’t know if it’ll be quick, but if you keep putting in the effort, I’m sure he’ll notice.”

Johnny thanks him. Daniel thanks him back, and excuses himself.

After he leaves, Johnny tentatively pulls out his phone and makes a call. Voicemail again, but he presses on. “Hey, Robby. I just talked to Carmen. I didn’t know she was going to say all that... I’m really sorry. I still got something for you if you’re willing to come over, but even if you aren’t I just wanted to say—I’m putting you first. Okay? From now on, I’m putting you first.”

(we insert a new scene)

Later, in the Diaz apartment, we see Carmen on the couch, no longer crying but still visibly upset. The door opens, and she hastily attempts to hide it.

Miguel enters. “Hey, mom—Mom? What’s wrong?’

“It’s nothing,” Carmen says. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to worry about me. How was the day with your friends?”

Miguel clenches his jaw. “Does this have something to do with Robby?”

Carmen’s surprise gives her away.

“Because if he said something to you,” Miguel continues, firing up, “or he did something—”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Carmen grabs both his hands, pulls him down to sit with her. “He didn’t do anything. It’s just—It’s hard, with Johnny and him. But that’s adult stuff, okay? It’s not your issue.”

End on Miguel’s face, unsatisfied.

(replacing the scene where Johnny pushes the boys to fight)

Later, cut to Robby, putting away his phone as he enters the apartment complex again. He glances around, before bee-lining towards Johnny’s door.

Miguel bursts out of the opposite apartment. “Hey!”

Robby spins, braced and ready.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here?” says Miguel.

“You don’t own the place,” says Robby.

“What did you say to my mom?”

Miguel shoves him. Robby smacks his hands off but doesn’t shove back.

“I didn’t say anything to your mom.”

“What did you say to Johnny, then?” They’re right up in each other’s faces.

Robby scowls. “It’s none of your business what I talk about with my dad.”

“Yeah? What, trying to make him chose?”

“Think I’m the only one here not trying to make him chose.”

“’Cause you know who he’ll pick?” says Miguel.

He’s hit a nerve. Robby pushes him away. A beat, before he hardens his expression. “You think he’s going to pick his fake son and his bitchy girlfriend?”

Too far. Miguel swings. The fight starts.

They battle through the courtyard, into the staircase, as canon. They’re as evenly matched as ever. When there’s a chance to emote between blows, both look more unhappy than they do angry, like this is an unpleasant duty they’ve been forced to carry.

Up on the balcony, they trade blows, quick flashes of the school fight interspersed. Miguel ends up on the railing side. He’s in no immediate danger; he’s fully balanced, braced to block, stance low. But as Robby spins with his fist raised, his eyes go wide.

The momentum carries him forward—Robby opens his fist. He grabs Miguel’s shirt instead, yanks him away from the edge.

Robby catches himself against the railing with both hands.

On Miguel, behind him, startled, desire to fight dissipating as Robby stays there, doesn’t turn around, hunched over.

Loaded silence. They both catch their breath.

“Why’d you do it,” Miguel says. “Last time.”

Long beat.

“I just...wanted to win,” Robby says finally, still staring over the railing. “Not like that,” He hesitantly turns to face Miguel, “but I was angry and I got tunnel vision and...didn’t realize how close we were... I didn’t mean to. I’d take it back in a second if I could.”

Finally he says, “I’m sorry.”

Miguel nods slowly. “I’m...sorry too. For what it’s worth. I know I started that fight... And maybe some others.”

Robby snorts without humor. “Yeah.” After a beat, he adds, exhausted, “I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

“I don’t want to fight you either,” says Miguel.

We linger in the moment. A ceasefire.

Cut ahead a little. The boys exit the stairwell on the ground floor, as Johnny steps outside his apartment. “Hey, I thought I heard—whoa, what the hell?”

He jogs up. Miguel and Robby stand side by side, a little bruised, but without aggression.

“It’s okay, Sensei,” Miguel says.

It takes Johnny a second to process, then he looks to the silent Robby: “You alright?”

Robby nods.

“Okay,” says Johnny slowly. To Miguel, “Well, let’s just hope your mom doesn’t—”

“Miggy!?”

Carmen bolts over to clutch Miguel to her chest, shooting wary looks at the other two. “What happened?”

Robby hunches his shoulders.

“It’s okay, mom,” Miguel says. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“You were fighting?” says Carmen. Her gaze snaps to Robby.

Johnny puts a protective hand on Robby’s shoulder, to Robby’s clear surprise.

“I started it,” says Miguel.

Johnny looks at Robby.

“It’s fine,” Robby says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Both adults are nonplussed, but the kids making a united front confuses them into accepting it: “if you guys are sure...” There’s a look between Johnny and Carmen, briefly united, before they remember they’re at odds. Carmen looks away first.

The parents split off with their respective kids. Robby and Miguel share a nod as they separate. Not quite friendly, but respectful.

As Johnny escorts Robby into their apartment, Robby says, soft, “I got your message.”

Johnny looks hopeful. “Yeah? Well, I, uh, wanted to show you a room...”

(And we make up for the time we’ve added by removing the scene from the end of the original episode where everybody is suddenly buddy buddy at the Diaz apartment.)

Finally, in our end of episode montage narrated by Tory, the clip of Robby is changed (from him fixing Johnny’s reversed door handle) to him looking at the little bonsai Johnny put in his new room and smiling.

Elsewhere in this episode: Amanda learns about Silver from Jessica. Daniel tries to lean on Stringray, but Silver beats him down instead. We find out Tory is working with Kreese.

tl;dr change: Robby and Miguel’s tension escalates and finally breaks without Johnny selfishly pushing them, and also does not translate to instant friendship.

Additional thoughts: Without Johnny pushing it, we need new reasons to bring Robby and Miguel together. I’m trying to carefully walk the line of provoking them enough to start a fight (because, again, abiding by the show’s conventions) without relying on contrived miscommunication, nor adding new drama that would need to be additionally addressed. I hope the way I’ve leaned on the Carmen/Johnny plot and the longstanding tension between them works.

Also, adding an apology from Miguel. Robby’s absolutely done the most harm and should apologize first, but I just desperately need someone besides Robby himself and fucking Kreese to acknowledge that Miguel was a driving force in the rivalry and fight.

In other news, huge changes for Johnny’s character. In the show, this was probably the episode I hated him most, forcing Miguel and Robby together for his own ends, and then being totally narratively validated for it. In the new version, we’re dropping that entirely.

Instead, we’re giving him a big step forward! So far this revised season we’ve seen Johnny care about Robby’s wellbeing and put in true effort (and jfc making him better than past season is such a low bar), and now we’re seeing him actually sacrifice something to prioritize his son. Hopefully, it finally feels earned at the end to have Johnny be paralleled to a parent like Carmen.

Like the show, we’re ending this episode on a positive note for the Johnny/Robby/Miguel plot (to contrast Daniel’s depressing ending). We’re just tempering it to not be so saccharine.

Finally, a little more background building of Robby’s desire to return to Miyagi-Do, though I can’t decide if it feels natural or shoehorned. But with the structure of the next episode, I wanted to make sure we hit that here.

EPISODE SIX

The plots we’ve been fixing on take a back seat this episode, so we’re just touching up a few moments.

Johnny is still Johnny, and still decides it’s a great idea to go fight Terry Silver. However, we’re not going to have him be drinking as he and Chozen approach the dojo. When he’s talking about going after Silver, we’ll fit in a quick line where he, with disgust, also mentions Silver trying to get in Robby’s head before prom last season.

Much later, when Robby appears as everyone tries to support Daniel, we change the dialogue a bit. As before, Robby shows up just as Daniel is in his crisis of confidence. Rather than “I can’t fail these kids again.” / “You didn’t fail me,” we’ll do: “I don’t know if I can help these kids.” / “You helped me.”

“Sam and my dad told me what was going on...” As in canon, Robby reminds him of the good he did.

Tweak Daniel’s line: “Robby, the things I did, juvie...and what I said to you...I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” says Robby.

“No, it’s not okay, I—”

“Mr. LaRusso.” Robby waits, looks at Daniel, makes his words weighty enough for Daniel to know it’s not a casual brush off but a significant choice: “It’s okay.”

Robby sighs. “I’m sorry. You were right about Cobra Kai and I—”

“No,” says Daniel. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. I’m just...glad you’re out.”

“I am,” says Robby. “But not everyone is...” and we transition back into the existing lines about how he tried mentoring someone but Silver got a hold on the kid, there are others in Cobra Kai he cares about too, and they have to stop Cobra Kai. “But we can’t do it without you. Sensei.”

A minute later, when they go out to join the rest of the kids, we add a beat of hesitation from Robby before Miguel gives him a nod and he joins the lineup.

Elsewhere in this episode: Terry gets new senseis, Tory accidentally wins over Devon, and Kreese fails to con a prison therapist.

tl;dr change: Minor edits to improve Johnny and stop blaming Robby.

Additional thoughts: Daniel and Robby’s reconciliation could have been an entire plot of it’s own (and a good one!!!), but I am conforming to the show here. This change is less about the characterization and events, and more about narrative framing—the show seems to argue that actually Robby was in the wrong and no one else needs to apologize to him, which is...bad. So instead of cutting off Daniel’s apology as unimportant, we’re letting him finish it, and having him cut off Robby’s apology. And instead of Robby saying that Daniel did nothing wrong, Robby’s expressing that he forgives him anyway.

EPISODE SEVEN

This episode has Chozen training the kids. Our first scene is the same (Sam talks to Anthony about Kenny, Hawk is furious to see Robby but Miguel tells him it’s fine, Chozen explains the eggs), except that Robby awkwardly stands a little separate from the rest of the students as Chozen speaks.

Later, the kids have spread out. As before, Sam talks to Anthony about his lack of experience. Instead of Robby casually joining them, he winds up nearby more by accident.

“Hey,” Sam says, hesitant. “It’s good to have you here...I know it must be weird being back, but it means a lot to my dad.” Robby looks down, smiles slightly to himself. Sam adds, “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

Robby fumbles with the words before settling on, “I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

Sam almost says something, then looks pointedly at Anthony. He takes the hint: “Alriiight, I’ll find somewhere else to hide.”

Alone, Sam looks to Robby, preparing a speech. He’s blatantly uncomfortable: “Sam—”

“I never said sorry to you,” she says. “For,” (guilty hesitation) “kissing Miguel at the party. And then not believing in you...”

Robby starts to brush it off out of discomfort, “It’s—” and stops himself. “Thanks,” he says instead.

A pause. Robby looks across the yard. “It is nice to be back,” he admits softly. He gaze lands on Hawk and Miguel. “If, yeah, weird.” To Sam. “And...maybe we can go back to being friends?”

Sam lights up. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As before, we cut over to Hawk, annoyed at Robby “moving in” on Sam and volunteering to kick his ass for Miguel. We’re just making Miguel more tempered in his response: “No, you don’t need to do that. Robby and I...called a truce. Besides, I am done getting stupid and jealous.”

Chozen calls the game to start.

(The Sam & Robby scene does run a little longer here; we’ll make up for it later.)

Later is the sequence of Chozen smashing eggs, which includes the Robby & Hawk scene where Robby apologizes but also pushes back. I’m adding “dislocated my shoulder” to the list of grievances Robby recites to Hawk. And after Demetri goes on his “you’re both ex-assholes” tirade, he looks pointedly at Eli.

“Ugh, fine, I’m sorry too or whatever,” says Hawk, before we continue on.

In the scene with Miguel and Sam, just cut Miguel’s line about them not being together helping him and Robby get along. It made no sense in the show and makes even less now.

Later, Chozen tells them they failed and to try again. Instead of Anthony realizing the trick right away and the kids having a discussion, they all split up again.

Cut to Miguel, slinking around the side of the building, peering for a hiding spot. He runs into Robby: “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey,” says Robby.

Extremely awkward vibe.

“I’ve, uh, seen you around Johnny’s place,” says Miguel.

Robby, suspicious: “Yeah?”

“I’m just making conversation,” Miguel clarifies quickly. “I’m cool with it. I mean, not that you need me to be cool with it, but I’m. Uh. Yeah.”

“Okay...” says Robby. “I mean. I’m just...coming over for dinner and stuff.”

They’ve gotten distracted—Chozen appears threateningly behind Robby.

“Look out!” shouts Miguel. He pushes Robby out of the way just in time. They stagger back from Chozen.

Chozen’s eyes flick to Miguel. He moves in, Miguel desperately clutching his egg, but Robby lunges to deflect the blow. The boys retreat as Chozen slowly advances, ending up back in the main yard. Chozen straightens up to strike.

“Here!” says Miguel, shoving his egg at Robby. He braces up in front, both hands now free. When Chozen swings at Robby, Miguel manages to defend him.

Cut to across the yard.

Anthony, looking despondent with his egg, sees this. His face lights up in realization. “Hey! Everybody!” he shouts, running for the deck. He grabs the carton and puts his egg back in as he runs over to Robby.

Robby sees him, catches on. Behind him, Miguel is knocked on his ass. Robby passes the two eggs to Anthony just in time to turn and block Chozen’s attack.

The others are reaching them now.

“All together!” says Anthony, holding out the carton for eggs. The students rush in to deposit their eggs, then turn to fight, and we get a similar scene to canon of all the kids successfully teaming up.

When Chozen concedes and the kids celebrate, Robby and Miguel share a genuine smile with each other.

(And we earn our time back.)

Elsewhere in this episode: Tory and Kenny’s leadership is put to the test. Daniel and Johnny talk to Kreese.

tl;dr change: More gradual relationship building between Robby and the other teens.

Additional notes: Not a lot of teen-focus this season, so we have to take the opportunity here. We’re giving Robby and Miguel a little more natural bonding, rather than have them be instant friends last episode. On the flip side, I actually think it’s funny and fitting for Robby and Hawk to just need a single begrudging conversation. Also inserting a much needed apology from Sam to Robby.

There’s not really any space this episode to properly develop Johnny and Robby’s relationship, but we left on a high note last time and we’re just settling for dialogue to indicate the work is still going.

EPISODE EIGHT

As before, after the opening scene establishing the challenge to qualify for the Sekai Taikai, we cut to Miguel and Hawk entering Miyagi-Do. New dialogue:

“So have you watched the old Sekai Taikai videos?” asks Miguel.

“Are you kidding?” says Hawk. “I was up all night.”

Instead of entering with them, Robby is already at the dojo in this version. Hawk hesitates, then asks him: “Did you see the video of last year’s final?”

“Yeah,” says Robby. “And that spin kick at the beginning?”

“Dude, that was sick!” Hawk gushes. Miguel grins.

And as before, we carry on with the other students joining in, before the Senseis come over. We keep the following sequence of Johnny approaching Miguel to say he’s not forcing him to compete and Miguel saying he’s pumped. We’ll add:

“And I want to say, I’m sorry if it’s been kind of weird with me and your mom.”

“It’s okay...” says Miguel. “Have you guys...talked at all?”

“Not really,” admits Johnny. “But I want you know, no matter what happens with me and her...I’m always your sensei.”

Miguel smiles. “Thanks, Sensei.”

Instead of Robby coming over himself, Johnny sees him nearby and shifts to include him, raising his voice to both boys. “And we got a hell of a team now. With you two together, we stand a real shot. You ready to kick ass?”

Robby gives a slight nod. Miguel says, “Hell yeah.”

Johnny claps him on the shoulder. He heads off.

With just Robby, Johnny says, quieter, “And maybe you could, I don’t know, ask your mom to stay the night later? Maybe leave some stuff at my place?”

When Robby looks hesitant, Johnny backs off immediately: “It’s your call, though. Whenever you’re ready. I’m just saying the offer’s open and it’s always going to be.” Beat. “Now.”

As before, we carry on with the sequence of the dojos showing off to the judges, including the bit with Miguel, Robby, and Hawk all training together, and with Robby and Sam doing the wheel.

Later, the scene of everyone at the LaRusso’s, Amanda and Carmen cooking for the dojo kids. We add a short moment of Johnny passing through the kitchen, making awkward eye-contact with Carmen, and continuing on.

This transitions us into the scene with Johnny talking to the three boys on the couch. As before, he says how they’re all great. However, it is kinda very extremely weird that the show has him specifically call out Hawk and Miguel as great fighters and AVT champions and then just say. nothing specifically about his own son. So we’ll add: “Robby, could easily be a champ instead of one of these guys, if it hadn’t been for that injury.”

As before, continue on with Johnny saying they’re having trouble deciding. Instead of suggesting a coin flip, we’ll have a silent beat where he glances at Robby, almost apologetic.

Robby, totally at peace, shakes his head: it’s okay.

And we keep the rest of it. Miguel says, “We actually already made up our minds,” looking at Robby, who nods and smiles back. We get to see the pair of them in agreement, having elected Hawk.

From this point on, the relationships between the kids catch up to the show. Things unchanged from this point forward include: Robby telling Kenny it’s better to let go of hate with a significant glance towards Miguel, Hawk listening to Robby’s request to go easy, and the hugs after the competition.

As before, Johnny approaches the chummy Miguel and Robby as the kids celebrate the decision. We need a dialogue edit:

“Hey, listen,” says Johnny. “I heard your mom and Rosa are out tonight, so if you guys wanna host that celebration...” He holds up his hands. “I’d get out of your hair too. Gone as soon as I drop you off, promise.”

The boys grin.

Cut to the party. Everyone having a great time.

We add a small scene right at the top: Miguel is carrying coats to toss into Johnny’s room. He sees Johnny still inside.

“Hey, weren’t you leaving already?” Miguel says, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Johnny. He holds up his wallet. “Just grabbing my stuff.”

Miguel nods, leaves the coats. Johnny follows shortly after. As he passes the open bathroom door in the hall, he stops abruptly, backs up to peer inside.

There’s a second toothbrush on the counter.

Those big, victorious chords from the soundtrack start up. Johnny continues out of the hall. He sees Robby across the room, chatting with Hawk; Miguel going over to join. Giant grin on his face, Johnny leaves the apartment to the kids.

(And we continue with the party.)

tl;dr change: Small adjustments early on to complete our more gradual arcs with the kids & continuing to cram in progression for Johnny and Robby wherever we can.

Additional notes: god there is not a lot of room to work with in these episodes

EPISODE NINE

As before, finish the Sam/Tory confrontation at the party, with Miguel and Robby breaking it up.

(replacing the scene with Johnny and Carmen at the doctor)

After our title card, open on Johnny dropping his trash in the dumpster. Behind him, we see Carmen leaving her apartment, wearing scrubs.

“Good morning, Johnny,” she calls.

Johnny spins, hastily trying to smooth his rumpled clothed. “Hi! I mean, good morning. How are you doing this...morning...”

Carmen chuckles. “I’m good.” She gestures at the courtyard. “I hear there was quite a party last night.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think the kids had fun.” Johnny hesitates. “Robby slept over.”

“I’m happy for you,” says Carmen. “And I’m...glad to hear the boys are getting along.”

“They are.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s great.”

Awkward beat.

Carmen says, “Well, I should—”

“Yes! Right. Have a good luck at work. A good day at work.”

Carmen smiles. “Have a good day, Johnny.”

Cut to Robby inside, pouring himself cereal. Johnny enters the apartment.

“You’re up,” says Johnny. He eagerly asks how the room was, if he slept okay.

“It was fine,” says Robby, smiling.

“Good, good.” Johnny says that he’s happy to change anything Robby wants, asks about the party, says the Sekai Taikai is gonna be cool, huh? It takes him a minute to work up to: “Hey, I gotta ask you something. How would you feel about, uh, me and Carmen getting back together?

“You don’t have to answer right away!” he adds quickly. Johnny takes Robby’s now-empty bowl to rinse in the sink.

“Does she still hate me?” asks Robby.

“No. No, I told her you’re a good kid.”

Johnny’s back is turned, so we know Robby’s soft smile is real.

“She gets it now.” Johnny puts the bowl in the dishwasher. “But if you don’t want me to see her...” Deep breath. “I meant it when I said you’re my top priority now and I’m—”

“Dad. It’s okay,” Robby says. “As long as she’s not trying to run me out of town...you can date who you want.”

“You sure?”

Robby stands. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just don’t ask me to play house right away, okay?”

Johnny snorts. “You got it.” On Robby, gathering his stuff. “You heading out?”

“Got something to do,” says Robby.

“Right... Maybe you can come back later?”

Robby pauses, looks back across the apartment. “Maybe, um, dinner tomorrow?”

Johnny beams. “That sounds great.”

Cut to the hospital. Carmen is walking down a hall, carrying a chart, generally looking professional. Her phones rings; she answers.

“Johnny? I’m at work, is everything okay?”

Intercut between the hospital and Johnny at home.

“Everything’s fine,” he says. “It’s nothing like that. I called because I know things have been weird for us, with Robby, and Miguel, but, Carmen, I need to say, I never stopped—”

“Johnny,” Carmen interrupts, smiling. “I’m a little busy. Maybe we could jump to the end?”

She stops at the end of the hall, calling an elevator.

“Right,” says Johnny. “Carmen. Can I take you out tonight?”

“I would really like that,” says Carmen.

They’re happy and cheesy, quickly say goodbyes. The elevator opens. Carmen’s smile vanishes.

“What floor?” asks Terry Silver, standing in the elevator.

Carmen hesitates, then steps inside, tells him.

Tense silence. Foreboding music. Carmen anxiously watches the floors tick up.

“You look familiar,” says Silver.

“Do I?”

Silver snaps his fingers. “You’re a karate mom. I saw you at the All Valley. Miguel Diaz, right?”

Carmen nods, tense.

“Your son’s quite talented,” says Silver. “You know, I’m a sensei myself, so I know how important the next generation is.”

“I know who you are,” interrupts Carmen. “So don’t bother with the sales pitch. Johnny told me everything.”

“Johnny... I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

The elevator dings.

“That’s me,” says Silver, as the doors slide open. He pauses on the way out. “Ah—Pass my congratulations on to Johnny.”

End on Carmen, watching him leave.

(In canon, Johnny tells Daniel and Amanda about Silver in the next scene. We’ll edit to add Carmen and tighten things up. So we cut to:)

LaRusso Auto. Carmen holds onto Johnny’s arm as she says, “...and then he just left.”

As before, discussion between the adults. Daniel says Silver could have been there for any reason. They concur that Silver probably isn’t up to anything right now. Johnny has his arm around Carmen the whole time.

When Amanda says they’ve all earned a night off, she looks at Carmen and Johnny. “And it seems like you two are back on for nights off?”

Carmen agrees. She and Johnny smile at each other.

“Sounds like a good enough excuse to celebrate to me,” says Amanda. “God knows we could use one.”

As before, they all agree to go out. Louie insists on planning, to make it up to Johnny. Johnny and Carmen add “and dancing” at the same moment.

The rest of the episode is largely the same.

Carmen drinks with the others. Instead of Chozen mistaking Carmen for Johnny’s wife, he says he’s happy for Johnny reuniting with his girlfriend. Instead of Johnny’s recount of letting one kick ruin his life ending with him saying he needed to look at what was in front of him, he says “I had to stop wishing things were fixed back then. Start looking at what I could fix now.”

Otherwise, no changes! Some of this is still dumb, but that’s not what I’m here to fix.

Elsewhere in this episode: Robby speaks to Cobra Kai. Tory is tortured by her senseis. The other kids confront Stingray, and Sam reaches out to Tory.

tl;dr change: We reunite Johnny and Carmen, to fit with the show, but make it clear that Johnny will still put his kid over his relationship if need be.

Additional notes: This about the last of the time we’ll get to round out Johnny and Robby’s arc, and I hope it’s been satisfying. I did consider massively changing the structure of the final two episodes to try to fix everything, but that is not what I signed up for here and we’re staying focused.

Johnny and Carmen, I know, are strapped for time to get back together here, since we’re dovetailing back into the show’s normal events. But considering their issue was very defined, has already been discussed, and is now moot (since Robby and Miguel are good), I think we’re okay keeping it quick.

EPISODE TEN

With our focus in the finale on dramatic fights and resolutions, we only have a few small edits left. The entire beginning is the same. No change until the fighting begins.

As before, Robby is hit by the silver bullet; match cut to Johnny being beaten. Silver arrives from his fight with Chozen to deride him. All as before, until Silver mocks Johnny for trying to confront him on his turf, “You never stood a chance.” And we make our change as Silver grabs his hair to pull his head up:

“You’re as much a failure of a fighter as you are a father.”

Continue on as canon.

Later, as before we cut back to Johnny while Silver is speaking to his students.

Nothing falls out of Johnny’s pocket when he hits the ground. Instead, we let Silver’s monologue end and start messing with the editing.

“Silver is right,” says one of the villainous senseis. Intercut with the dojo: Silver looking around, pose confident. (Sensei VO) “You are failing.”

On Johnny, bloody and on the ground. He gets a spark in his eyes. In the dojo, the camera pans across the assembled characters.

Focus on Johnny as he slurs, “Said I’d stop doing that...”

In the dojo, we see Hawk, Bert. Miguel.

At Silver’s house, the sensei, disdainful: “What?”

Pan lands on Robby.

Cut to Johnny. “I promised...”

The music starts. Johnny grits his teeth, shoves himself to his feet—and fights back.

(Continue as canon; he has a great rally, then is nearly beaten before Barnes leaps back in. Return to the others.)

Daniel gets his cathartic victory. The day is saved.

Finally, when Johnny arrives in the limo, we insert a moment. The first thing he does upon stumbling out is look frantically around until he spots Robby safe with Tory. His shoulders drop, tension releases. He quickly spots Miguel as well. Only then does he go to embrace Carmen.

When Carmen says he needs a doctor and Johnny agrees he was on his way there, instead of saying he just wanted to see her first, he says, “I just needed to see everyone first.”

Carmen says she thought he lost him; Johnny says it’s not that easy. Then: “The thought of losing you, any of you—” He looks aside. Camera cuts to Robby. Back on Johnny's face, soft. “It kicked me into a gear I didn’t know I had. Couldn’t stand the thought of leaving now.”

Episode wraps up with resolution for the heroes, and a teaser for Kreese. The end.

#*#*ck #cobra kai #robby keene #johnny lawrence #can't believe how much time i spent on this considering it's not even my ideal fic #now back to mulling over the au where robby says fuck this and has a happy dad-free life <3

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