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amoristt · 3 years ago

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Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

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“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him.

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this.

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red.

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you.

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.”

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it.

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?”

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy.

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip.

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy. As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be.

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke.

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind.

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find.

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse.

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In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable.

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look.

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began.

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan.

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

You lowered your head.

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot.

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled.

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?”

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod.

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again.

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly.

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust.

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that?

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person?

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once.

No one believed you.

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With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew.

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under.

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed. How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you.

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions.

No wonder he was so angry.

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call.

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing.

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.”

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.”

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again.

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy. He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right?

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger.

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying.

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos.

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh.

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up.

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?”

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot.

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.”

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.”

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm.

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange #grazing the fire #scenario #fanfic #fluff

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fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy · 3 years ago

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Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

#tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #trollhunters #rott #rise of the titans spoilers #rott spoilers #toa #3 below #athena's own original post!#jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toby domzalski

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

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Hi, I’ve been tasked with researching Richard Plantagenet for a paper and thus far found extremely negative accounts of the king, his religious bigotry being a reoccurring theme (his treatment of Jewish dignitaries attending his coronation and his reasoning to join the third crusade etc)

I stumbled across your wonderful tag for Richard at the weekend and wondered if you wouldn’t mind sharing your informed opinion of Richard and his views on religions ? Your writing seems very well balanced regarding his attributes and flaws. Thanks :)

Oof. Okay. So, a short and simple question, then?

Quick note: when I was first reading your ask and saw "Richard Plantagenet," I briefly assumed that you meant Richard Plantagenet, father of Edward IV, or perhaps Richard III, both from the Wars of the Roses in the fifteenth century, before seeing from context that you meant Richard I. While "Plantagenet" was first used as an informal appellation by Richard I's grandfather, Geoffrey of Anjou, it wasn't until several centuries later that the English royal house started to use it consistently as a surname. So it's not something that Richard I would have been really called or known by, even if historians tend to use it as a convenient labeling conceit. (See: the one thousand popular histories on "The Plantagenets" that have been published recently.)

As for Richard I, he is obviously an extremely complex and controversial figure for many reasons, though one of the first things that you have to understand is that he has been mythologized and reinvented and reinterpreted down the centuries for many reasons, especially his crusade participation and involvement in the Robin Hood legends. When you're researching about Richard, you're often reading reactions/interpretations of that material more than anything specifically rooted in the primary sources. And while I am glad that you asked me about this and want to encourage you to do so, I will gently enquire to start off: when you say "research," what kind of materials are you looking at, exactly? Are these actual published books/papers/academic material, or unsourced stuff on the internet written from various amateur/ideological perspectives and by people who have particular agendas for depicting Richard as the best (or as is more often the case, worst) ever? Because history, to nobody's surprise, is complicated. Richard did good things and he also did quite bad things, and it's difficult to reduce him to one or the other.

Briefly (ha): I'll say just that if a student handed me a paper stating that Richard was a religious bigot because a) there were anti-Jewish riots during his coronation and b) he signed up for the Third Crusade, I would seriously question it. Medieval violence against the Jews was an unfortunately endemic part of crusade preparations, and all we know about Richard's own reaction is that he fined the perpetrators harshly (repeated after a similar March 1190 incident in York) and ordered for them to be punished. Therefore, while there famously was significant anti-Semitic violence at his coronation, Richard himself was not the one who instigated it, and he ordered for the Londoners who did take part in it to be punished for breaking the king's peace.

This, however, also doesn't mean that Richard was a great person or that he was personally religiously tolerant. We don't know that and we often can't know that, whether for him or anyone else. This is the difficulty of inferring private thoughts or beliefs from formal records. This is why historians, at least good historians, mostly refrain from speculating on how a premodern private individual actually thought or felt or identified. We do know that Richard likewise also made a law in 1194 to protect the Jews residing in his domains, known as Capitula Judaeis. This followed in the realpolitik tradition of Pope Calixtus II, who had issued Sicut Judaeis in c. 1120 ordering European Christians not to harass Jews or forcibly convert them. This doesn't mean that either Calixtus or Richard thought Jews were great, but they did choose a different and more pragmatic/economic way of dealing with them than their peers. This does not prove "religious bigotry" and would need a lot more attention as an analytical concept.

As for saying that the crusades were motivated sheerly by medieval religious bigotry, I'm gonna have to say, hmm, no. Speaking as someone with a PhD in medieval history who specialised in crusade studies, there is an enormous literature around the question of why the crusades happened and why they continue to hold such troubling attraction as a pattern of behavior for the modern world. Yes, Richard went on crusade (as did the entire Western Latin world, pretty much, since 1187 and the fall of Jerusalem was the twelfth century's 9/11). But there also exists material around him that doesn't exist around any other crusade leader, including his extensive diplomatic relations with the Muslims, their personal admiration for him, his friendship with Saladin and Saladin's brother Saif al-Din, the fact that Arabic and Islamic sources can be more complimentary about Richard than the Christian records of his supposed allies, and so forth. I think Frederick II of Sicily, also famous for his friendly relationships with Muslims, is the only other crusade leader who has this kind of material. So however he did act on crusade, and for whatever reasons he went, Richard likewise chose the pragmatic path in his interactions with Muslims, or at least the Muslim military elite, than just considering them all as religious barbarians unworthy of his time or attention.

The question of how the crusades functioned as a pattern of expected behavior for the European Christian male aristocrat, sometimes entirely divorced from any notion of his private religious beliefs, is much longer and technical than we can possibly get into. (As again, I am roughly summarising a vast and contentious field of academic work for you here, so... yes.) Saying that the crusades happened only because medieval people were all religious zealots is a wild oversimplification of the type that my colleague @oldshrewsburyian and I have to deal with in our classrooms, and likewise obscures the dangerous ways in which the modern world is, in some ways, more devoted to replicating this pattern than ever. It puts it beyond the remit of analysis and into the foggy "Dark Ages hurr durr bad" stereotype that drives me batty.

Weighted against this is the fact that Richard obviously killed many Muslims while on crusade, and that this was motivated by religious and ideological convictions that were fairly standard for his day but less admirable in ours. The question of how that violence has been glorified by the alt-right people who think there was nothing wrong with it at all and he should have done more must also be taken into account. Richard's rise to prominence as a quintessentially English chivalrous hero in the nineteenth century, right when Britain was building its empire and needed to present the crusades as humane and civilizing missions abroad rather than violent and generally failed attempts at forced conversion and conquest, also problematized this. As noted, Richard was many things, but... not that, and when the crusades fell out of fashion again in the twentieth century, he was accordingly drastically villainized. Neither the superhero or the supervillain images of him are accurate, even if they're cheap and easy.

The English nationalists have a complicated relationship with Richard: he represents the ideal they aspire to, aesthetically speaking, and the kind of anti-immigrant sentiment they like to put in his mouth, which is far more than the historical Richard actually displayed toward his Muslim counterparts. (At least, again, so far as we can know anything about his private beliefs, but this is what we can infer from his actions in regard to Saladin, who he deeply respected, and Saladin's brother.) But he was also thoroughly a French knight raised and trained in the twelfth-century martial tradition, his concern for England was only as a minor part of the sprawling 'Angevin empire' he inherited from his father Henry II (which is heresy for the Brexit types who think England should always be the center of the world), and his likely inability to speak English became painted as a huge character flaw. (Notwithstanding that after the Norman Conquest in 1066, England did not have a king who spoke English natively until Henry IV in 1399, but somehow all those others don't get blamed as much as Richard.)

Anyway. I feel as if it's best to stop here. Hopefully this points you toward the complexity of the subject and gives you some guidelines in doing your own research from here. :)

#anonymous #ask #history #medieval history #richard the lionheart #long post

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magireco · 3 years ago

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Would love to hear more thoughts on how these girls have understandable teenage motivations (A+ tag analysis by the way)

1. Thank you!!!!!!

2. ALRIGHT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (shuffles my papers). i’ve gone off about homura’s motivations in depth before but i think it was only in dms/groupchats? anyways i’ll go in order with All the girls bc i think about this all the time as a teenager who grew up mentally ill and had their perceptions skewed because of it, and also i don’t think it’s talked about nearly enough for the others, at least on my blog... so, buckle up!!! this is REALLY LONG!!!!

3. i tried writing like, an individual thing for every member of the quintet all together in this one ask, but i ended up talking a little too much about homura and now i’m going to split up all the different analysis stuff for each character into the reblogs and work on it every so often! you’re free to kinda skim of course because i really did write a whole novel but here we go!! read under the cut. :3 this is literally essay length btw. i did NOT expect it to get this long but if you want to read it all i’d recommend it but i don’t expect most people to

First: Homura Akemi

okay so i’m going to kind of summarize everything but from the perspective of empathizing with her so if you don’t want to reread a whole recap you can skip to the ending few paragraphs

Summary

first of all, in episode 10, homura’s past is explained for the viewer. she was a shy, unsure girl who had been bedridden for a long time. she was clearly unsocialized, not to mention she went to a catholic school and those can be brutal, esp in japan... that’s all we know about her in that episode, but it’s revealed in one of the drama cds that she was bullied as a child(& further at mitakihara middle), her parents never were mentioned ever (i assume them to either be dead or neglectful, considering she lives alone and unchecked), and in magia record, homura says to natsuki that she’s never had friends before, she hasn’t been on vacation before until the beachside bonds event, hasn’t ever celebrated valentine’s day, has never celebrated new years, etc...

clearly, she’s missed out on a lot not only because of her sickness and hospitalization, but because of her isolation as a child at school. judging by her demeanor and the way she reacts when madoka comes up to her without being asked to, something like that had never happened to her before. it’s clear to me that madoka was many of homura’s “first’s”, her first friend, the first person who reached out to her, the first person to compliment her name honestly(validating her, disproving her dislike of her name), the first person to regard her so kindly rather than judging her based off of her appearance and demeanor (like other students had apparently done, this is also shown when the other students at mitakihara middle make fun of her for being tired after only being able to run one lap). AND, madoka (and mami, but homura knew madoka better at that time) saved her life, even though homura was so willing to die, just in that moment... i’d assume it made homura feel like someone believed in her even when she was at her worst. it’s really clear by the glimmer in her eyes that these are nice people that made her feel happy and welcome... and then walpurgisnacht came. she didn’t know much about magical girls and just believed in madoka and mami to be able to defeat the witch because she saw them as strong and saw the witch as defeatable, despite its size. and then mami died, right in front of her and madoka...

this kinda seems headcanon-y when i phrase it this way but it’s practically proven in her actions but i really think homura is scared to be abandoned, especially by someone who was as overtly kind and nonjudgemental to her as madoka... it’s in the way she cries her name and says “don’t go” before madoka runs away to fight walpurgisnacht. OH ALSO, i need to address this one thing really quick because people like to assume that homura didn’t care about mami from the beginning and only liked madoka. it’s not that she wasn’t sad when mami died, she was clearly terrified and didn’t want the same to happen to madoka, also mami LITERALLY WASN’T IN HER CLASS OR HER GRADE so i assume she spent most of her time with madoka considering they were in the same grade and class and probably shared most of their periods with each other... but also, once again, mami is older than both of them and homura probably saw her as more of a mentor/teacher that she needed to impress rather than madoka who was more on her level, i guess?

anyways, moving on... homura had to see madoka die (& experience the crushing guilt she felt for “letting madoka go” even though there was nothing she could’ve done) and literally says “i’d rather you had lived than saved someone like me” ... her self worth is below zero. she makes her wish to be strong enough to protect madoka(because she sees madoka, her first friend, who saved her life which she felt had no worth, as so strong and noble) which causes her to go back in time, etc. etc., you know the deal. okay before i move on to talk a little more abt the timelines and the personality change i’m going to address why it’s reasonable that she’d be attached to madoka.

i mentioned before that homura said herself that she had never had a friend before. just like, put yourself into her shoes for a second. this girl has no idea how to make friends; it was never taught to her. it’s literally rational that she’d get attached to her first ever friendship. it’s not “normal” the way she views madoka, but how could it be? this is her first time having a friend, she’s afraid of being abandoned by her, but she’s had to see her die over and over again anyway. she doesn’t want to lose madoka. even if she doesn’t go about it in the right way, there’s no way she would’ve actually known how to Do relationships. no one taught her. i think that needs to be empathized with more...

i kinda feel like i need to summarize all this just bc if i word it right it kinda reminds you & puts into perspective just how terrible and scary all of this was.

anyway Again, i would skip straight to the end of timeline 3 (where a New Flavor of trauma is given to homura) but i need to first address timeline 2 for a second. it was homura’s first time repeating the timeline, she trained with madoka and mami again, she was still hopeful despite what happened, etc. kinda just bonding further with madoka Again... and then it’s at the end of this timeline that she watches madoka turn into a witch, just in front of her very eyes... and realizes the true fate of magical girls. when she resets the timeline again, it’s up to her to start anew and break the truth to the group when she sees them again. when she tries telling the truth, sayaka immediately shoves this aside, claiming homura was just trying to split everyone up. it’s clear that that hurts homura. (also the little shinies in her eyes were wavering which is anime-code for sad) her feelings were immediately disregarded by sayaka and she couldn’t defend herself, but madoka did for her, and mami tried to diffuse the situation.

after they all find out homura was right when sayaka turns into a witch, mami kills kyoko and ties up homura in her ribbons and aims a gun at her, and this, rightfully, ignited a fear within homura... madoka is forced to kill mami in order to save homura, leaving only the two of them to fight together. then, when walpurgisnacht comes that time, The Promise is made... madoka tells homura to go back in time and save her from becoming a witch (because she doesn’t want to curse the world that way, she still sees beauty in it) and homura agrees, saying she’ll never stop until she saves madoka, and then... homura has to mercy kill madoka before she becomes a witch. she cries loudly and shoots madoka’s soul gem... it’s literally so heartwrenching and (usually) brings the viewer to tears, or puts something into perspective for them...

then we assume the personality change happens in the timeline right after. this personality change causes a lot of discourse because sometimes it’s seen as kind of irrational, but personally, i think even moemura had at least SOME resent for the world around her considering what she’d been through. it’s madoka’s repeated deaths that finally push her over that edge. i could get further into the coolmura arc but that’d take a WHILE, so i’ll just kind of explain something briefly though -- why homura ended up becoming even MORE focused on madoka. and i’m also going to debunk the claim that homura doesn’t care about her other friends as fast as i can before moving on.

also, ONE LAST side tangent, for those that think homura really did do a 360 degree personality turn are wrong. it’s shown explicitly in homulilly’s labyrinth that there’s this... “core” homura, a shadowy purple silhouette with braids. every time the series depicts homura’s internal self, it’s always glasses+braids, symbolizing her “child” self, who she truly is. she never stopped being that person. she doesn’t want to kill. ...but i can get into that in a rebellion analysis later! this is also shown in wraith arc bc the person inside her soul gem has glasses+braids. anyway let’s get to the next part i’m going to rant about

Homura’s Love for Madoka, but Otherwise Apathy

homura has seen many different, yet all similar, versions of her friends. the first claim i’m going to talk about which i saw brought up quite a few times before is in regards to homura and mami. first of all, homura absolutely still cares for mami, and not just in the “i only care about your life if it affects madoka’s” way. one part that always gets me is when mami ties her up in the series timeline after homura frantically warns her that this witch isn’t normal, to which mami IMMEDIATELY brushes this off, without even giving homura a chance. then, when mami’s ribbons fade away, homura looks horrified and just goes “oh no...” and it’s kind of obvious to me that it was in response to mami’s death rather than madoka’s reaction. this is arguably up for debate i guess because i’ve seen different takes on that reaction and it’s ambiguous, i guess? but i’m about to get into something extremely similar and that’s the sayaka situation, where madoka throws sayaka’s soul gem onto a moving car. homura gasps and immediately pauses time and disappears, running in literal open traffic and climbing on top of a moving car to retrieve sayaka’s soul gem. one could argue that this is ALSO only just because homura wants to save madoka (and kyoko) the fear, but don’t you think her expression would be different? if homura truly didn’t care for sayaka’s wellbeing, wouldn’t she be making an expression more similar to like, “oh, this shit again...” instead of the frantic one she was making in the scene? this kind of thing Also happens when kyoko asks homura to leave while kyoko’s about to sacrifice herself in oktavia’s labyrinth, and homura looks up sadly at kyoko and then back down at madoka, and once she knew kyoko was dead, she just quietly said “kyoko...” to herself. she usually refers to them as [last name, first name], but she dropped that during that moment... it otherwise sounds like a bare minimum thing to do, but keep in mind the timeline we’re shown in the series is implied to be like, the 110th timeline, i think? like, this is the last timeline, she’s worn down, but she still does have empathy -- or at least sympathy -- for the others. she still loves them.

homura promised to be madoka’s protector, she dedicated her life to her, and also she doesn’t have a choice not to dedicate her life to her anymore, even though that’s not fair to her... homura is in a really hopeless situation and madoka is her hope, and madoka is the one that judges her the least out of the quintet (like saying “i’m sure homura is good” to herself) upon first impression. also okay i mentioned this already in my last post (which you saw) but i’m going to bring it up one more time, homura is not mentally 26!!!!!! she is still 14 mentally!! in order to be 26, you have to have experienced 26 years of new life experience. maybe you acquire that through school, maybe you aquire that through friends, whatever it takes. but homura just repeated the same month over and over, and it’s not like her body (canonically) ages ever. she just kind of gets transported back into her body in the hospital again considering she’s back wearing her braids and pajamas... so, yeah. no mental development there. i also mentioned this here but i’m gonna say it again, that just makes it even harder for her to actually age correctly... it stunts her to 14. imagine being 14 for 10-11 years...

In Defense Of My Own Claims

btw before you think i’m just going full-on radical homura apologist, i’m not explaining all of this to be like “homura made ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS because her trauma gave her an excuse!!” because like, Obviously, she did a lot of bad things, she killed people, did a lot of callous things, a lot of thoughtless things, a lot of things that make her seem emotionless, etc. but i just have trouble blaming her considering how things ended up, and it’s not like she enjoys killing people. she’s not sadistic... she ends up becoming short with all the others not only because of her (extremely) weakened trust in them, but also because the amount of times she repeated the timeline. i’d imagine it makes her feel like the others can’t truly die because she can just go back and see them again. (this is also why wraith arc/post-tv series must’ve been hard for her because she can no longer turn back time, things are permanent now, deaths are forever) she’s become so worn down that she’ll do anything to escape the loops... also considering she has no choice but to continue? although it shouldn’t be, it’s technically her job as a magical girl to defeat all witches and walpurgisnacht counts. it kills magical girls and tears up the whole city and she’s usually the only magical girl left... her choices, when defeated, are either to give up and die or to go back and try again, and she made a promise to her first ever friend to do just the latter... i just don’t understand how this isn’t easier for people to comprehend, that all of this trauma and stress and responsibility on top of an already traumatized 14 year old does not mix well. ever. she had to figure out all of this by herself.

TL;DR:

homura was a previously traumatized, unsocialized 14 year old with (very)low self esteem & self worth whose first friend (and first love, really, let’s be honest) died in front of her in horrific ways and she watched as she (and the other friends she came to make) drifted slowly apart from her in her endless and futile attempt in saving her from what proved to be an inescapable fate. also she’s 14 and also she’s (canonically) mentally ill and a lesbian. not a monster, not evil, not “psycho”. and that’s that!

#asks #luna-mistrunner #homura akemi #analysis #THIS MAY HABE TAKEN ME LIKE 2 DAYS ON AND OFF

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elphiej · 4 years ago

Text

Be My Light - Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: References to violence, minor assault,

Author’s note: First off, I’d like to send a special Thank You to someone who was a huge inspiration to me and to this story. This is the chapter that really started it all and I was inspired by @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng ‘s mafia reaction series. She is a fantastic person and was one of the first people I showed this Be My Light to when I was too scared to post it. She is a beautiful soul and wonderful writer. Thank you for the push.

Another Big thanks to my editor for sticking with me all this time and into the future. And, of course, to all the people who are reading, commenting, and reblogging this. I can’t tell you all how much is means to me. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this next installment of Be My Light. (P.S. I have a thing for RM in a long trench coat.)

Tag list: @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine , @mrsfortune1306 , @lovesick-heart0 , @iamnamjoonsbxtch , @deathkat657 , @deeepvibes , @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns , @joyfullyobsessed , @elvencantation ,

Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

You stared at the cell phone clutched in your hand, your mind spinning with so many questions. Who were those people? Why did talking to this ‘RM’ make you feel like something bad was coming? With that deep, serious tone, were they just as dangerous as the man with the cane? And what kind of normal person calls themselves ‘RM’? Agust was already on the edge of interesting and odd as it was. Scanning over the still lit screen, you wondered what other names were in the contact list. Other than ‘God of Destruction’, the last few calls you could see without going through the device belonged to ‘Mochi’, ‘My Favorite’, and ‘Worldwide Pain in my Ass’. Based on those names, you couldn’t begin to imagine who was gonna match those names.

It was safe to assume that this RM guy was concerned about the man in the suit trying to finish the job. The hospital had a good security team but you thought it best to talk to Doctor- Henry- to see if more could be done. Your hand paused as it went to put the cell phone back with Agust’s things; if RM or any of the odd named voices tried to contact you for an update, they would most likely call that, instead of trying to navigate the hospital switch board. Figuring it was the best option, you placed the phone safely in your scrub’s pocket as you moved to the bedside for one last check on the patient. Agust hadn’t moved again since right before the phone call and was still as could be. The monitors were all reading normally. There was a blood transfusion line in his arm to help replace what he had lost, along with another IV pushing fluids and medication. You adjusted his arm to make it more comfortable for him once he woke up.

“I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” you said as you fixed his blankets. “Please, try not to do anything until I get back.”

You slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. There was an anxious feeling that crept back into your gut, the same one you felt when you had first heard the gun shots ring out from the silence of the construction site. Your mind had so many thoughts and scenarios running through it that you felt overwhelmed. Things like, ‘what if the man with the cane and rough voice came here? Would he shoot his way through the floors until he found Agust? Were you really as safe as you hoped?’ The hospital had been under a few threats but nothing had ever come from those except words. It would be best to stay as cautious as possible. You had too many friends and patients to not take your feelings seriously.

As you made your way towards your station, you were surprised to see that Henry was already there leaning over the desk with the phone pressed up against his ear. He pulled a pad of paper from the other side of the desk and started scribbling something down as he nodded and spoke in a low tone to whomever was on the other end. That saves me from having to page him, you mused. Henry did a double take towards you when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye. He beaconed you over with an urgent wave of his hand. The calm yet awkward demeanor from earlier had been replaced with a more serious one. Once you were within an arm’s reach of him, he reassured whomever he was talking to that ‘everything will be taken care of’ and hung up.

“Good,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I need you to help me.”

“Henry, about that John Doe patient. I was able to talk to someone close to him. I think we may need to alert the security team about- “

“I’ve already talked to them. The hospital is going on alert for any suspicious activity entering the hospital. And we are actually moving the patient to one of the private units upstairs. I just got off the phone with the director and we’ve got everything worked out for you so you’ll be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking down the hall.

“Wait, what does that mean? What do you mean by worked everything out?” You took extra long steps to keep up with his brisk pace.

“The same person who demanded higher security for that patient requested that you be kept with him as his private staff until otherwise. Which means you’ll be in the secure ward with him in case anything happens. It’s gonna be for the best. You were the first one with him and it’s gonna be more comfortable if he doesn’t have to get acclimated to someone else after all this. Don’t worry, we’ve got it worked out with Jax already.”

Henry led you back into Agust’s room and made fast work of disconnecting him from the machines that surrounded him. He pulled the IV bags down and placed them on the bed by the still form. Meanwhile, you were frozen at the end of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he seemed to expect you to understand what was happening. This wasn’t the first gang related case you had been assigned to since starting at Mercy, nor was it the first gunshot case; why did this sudden change to the routine make you feel ever more nervous? Never had you moved a patient into a secure wing designed from more severe or quarantined patients before just because someone had requested it. Henry called your name to shake you from your thoughts and motioned you to move to the side of the bed as he unlocked the wheels of the gurney and pushed the bed from the wall. As you helped guide it from the room, you couldn’t help but feel the tension grow.

“So, I am just supposed to stay locked up in some room like a prisoner? And be someone’s private nurse? What about the rest of my patients here? I can’t just leave Amber to tend to them all alone. We are short staffed as it is,” you mentioned as you navigated everyone into the elevator at the end of the hall.

Henry hit a button and the elevator started to move. He leaned close to look you in the face, his eyes filled with seriousness. “Listen, Y/N, I know this is strange but you just have to trust me. I don’t know all the details but someone particularly important has to be involved to make the director so quick to comply with whatever they asked. But no matter what, your safety is my priority, maybe a bit more than my patients. I’m sure the director thinks that too. Whoever it is must just want to make sure this guy has the best care possible. And when he gets here, he’ll probably want to hear from you what happened. And if whatever gang did this does try anything, I don’t want you to worry because no one is going to get to him or you. Only the director, you, and I will have access to this room or know where he is. Apparently, the man the director talked to said he would have a way to get a hold of you and prove his identity to gain access. I know how you are, Y/N, you are a great person. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. But don’t think that you are inconveniencing anyone; Jax has already rearranged everything and made some calls. I really need you to think about yourself now. And what is best is for you is to do what I am asking and not over think this right now.”

Henry was being so sincere that you couldn’t find the voice to make any arguments. You gave him a weak nod and tried to take what he said to heart. As Amber had pointed out before, one of your qualities was that you put others well before yourself. Hence, why you were in this predicament. As the doors opened onto the new floor, you promised him that you would try.

The door opened onto a floor where the more severe, long term patients were kept. This floor could, also, be used for quarantining or the more delicate of patients. At the moment, you knew it had only a few occupants: a coma patient, a patient suffering from extreme burns, and someone from the psych ward that needed more focused attention. To enter this ward, you needed a key card, making this more isolated than your full and frantic floor. Henry commented there was no record that Agust had been moved in any of the files. And if anyone tried to look him up, it would be like he never existed. The person who had called to make all this happen had said he’d contact you and that he and his colleagues were to say they were here to perform community service if asked by anyone else. Apparently, they deemed it as security protection. Henry had you swipe your ID to gain access to the floor and you made your way down the silent hall to the vacant room Henry had staked out for you to stay in. The room was bigger than the one you were used to on your floor. There was a small couch across from where the bed was to go, a private bath off near the entrance, and even a TV in the corner. There was, also, a small recliner near where the head of the gurney was to rest. You imagined you’d be there most of the time. Henry helped you set everything back up in the room and did a quick check on the patient after he was secured in his new residence.

“Hopefully, he’s gonna wake up a bit soon. He’s reacting well to what I’m doing,” Henry commented as he checked Agust’s pupils constrict as he shined his pen light in them. He gave some instructions about his IV and transfusion processes. He gave you a quick run down of the floor in case you needed anything. “Until he wakes up, I guess feel free to do whatever in here. It can be like a mini vacation. You know, if you ignore all the weird stuff happening. You can watch some TV or order some food. The mysterious man said to spare no expense when it came to our patient or you. I promise by Friday this will be all over and we can go out and talk about nicer things. Okay?”

Before you could stop yourself, you felt your cheeks get hot and you turned your eyes to the floor. This was not the best place for this, but you knew Henry did it to only ease the anxiety you were feeling. He was almost too perfect. Henry promised to check in once he had finished his rounds as he left from the room and pulled the door shut behind him. You heard the security lock click into place, knowing it would only open from the inside or if you had an ID card. You allowed yourself to drop into the recliner, allowing everything to wash over you. Paranoia was thick in the air as you tried to make sense of everything. Henry was right; whoever these people were they must just want to talk to you and this was easier than scouting the halls. But the thought did very little to chase the nervousness away. Your hands started to rub together out of tension, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles one by one with your thumbs. You took a few deep breaths as you tried to force yourself out of the impending panic. Your eyes looked over at the bed. You tried to remind yourself that you needed to keep it together and be strong for him. Then your eyes landed on his hand. You remembered when you were hiding behind the counter when the man with the cane was getting closer and closer. And when Agust had reached over and squeezed your hand. In that moment, he gave you reassurance with such a small gesture, not thinking of himself. You remembered how genuine it felt. It’d be nice if you could do that now, you thought with a weak smile.

Instead, you settled for forcing yourself to think of something else. You read through his charts, tapped through some news on your phone, and tried to people watch out the window behind the couch. The afternoon sun had started making its way towards the horizon; how quickly the day had ended up flying by. You had decided against turning on the television for now, thinking how awkward it would be for him to wake up to you watching some trash TV show. You tried walking around the room to get a sense of where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. But all of that only killed twenty minutes and you were still stir-crazy. There wasn’t much you could do for Agust at the moment, except allow him to rest without you trying to hold his hand or anything else.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing in your pocket; it was Agust’s phone. You were a bit ashamed at how quickly you reached for it. There was a new text message. It was from a new named contact: Sunshine. The preview of the message said, ‘To Miss Nurse’, making your assumption that the people on the other end would have expected you to keep the phone on you correct. And since it was addressed to you, you didn’t feel too bad about opening the phone again. You swiped open the text and tried not to scroll anywhere higher into their previous chats.

- Sunshine: To Miss Nurse. if you see this, please take good care of our Hyung. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him I said to behave. RM should be almost there. He tends to speed.

There were a couple silly emojis next to it that made you smile. Surely, they can’t be bad people if this is how they communicate. They must be close friends. Though, you still wondered how they had gotten the director to do all this. Maybe there was someone else doing all of this? You shook your head and typed a quick message back, so not to have them worry.

- I’ll take good care of him. That’s my job.

You really hoped Agust didn’t mind you messing with his phone. Though, you figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. There was no response which made you think that it was all he needed at the time. Gazing at the clock on the phone, you had wasted thirty minutes in the room so far. You thought of your backpack in the locker room a few floors down and some of your things at your stations that you could pass the time with. Since Agust was secure here, you thought it may be a good idea to gather some things to help you waste time until this RM shows up. It was unlikely that Agust was going to wake up yet, and you could be fast so he wouldn’t be alone for long. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and rose from the chair, heading for the door. You cast one more look at the still figure in the bed before dimming the lights and pulled the door shut behind you.

You set off at a brisk pace for the elevator and took it down a few levels to where the staff locker room was kept. You raced in, pulled your bag from your locker, and left before anyone noticed you. You were sure since the director had put the whole hospital on alert that everyone was making rounds to keep eyes everywhere. You hoped grabbing your stuff from your station was just as easy; you weren’t sure about how to explain why you had suddenly deserted your station. Amber wasn’t there but you could hear her and Jax talking loudly from a back room. You wanted to talk to your best friend, to help ease some nerves and have her tell you exactly what you needed to hear. But you didn’t want to wait around or take her away from her new workload. You pulled open the drawer where you kept some personal items, incase of slower work days, and shoved them into your bag. You froze when your fingers hit against something that you knew, instantly, should not be in your bag. Peering into the opening, your eyes locked onto a metallic, black, studded object that you had seen earlier that morning.

The gun Agust had placed in your hand.

How did that get in there? You didn’t remember grabbing it unless it had happened in the chaos of the EMTs and police rushing to assess the situation. Well, if you weren’t already anxious, this just made it worse. Let’s just add this to the ever-growing list of stupid things I’ve done today, you berated yourself. You brought a potentially loaded gun into a hospital. You needed to get back up to the room and get this out of your possession. Maybe when this RM got there, he could take it from you. You pulled the bag shut and slugged it over your shoulder, trying hard not to think about it.

You moved away from the desk and down the hall towards the elevator. But as you stepped into the silent hall with all the doors closed, one was not closed as it had been when you left; the room where Agust had been. And there was someone looking inside. There was a man, tall and stocky, and dressed in a simple navy uniform. He wasn’t a part of the hospital staff and you didn’t think he was there to clean the room with the lights still off. Trying to stay as unnoticed as you could, you took longer strides towards the end. As you passed behind him, you peered beyond him into the pitch blackness of the room to just make out another figure lurking there. He wasn’t dressed in the same way as the man in the door. He was in darker colors that you couldn’t make out and wore what looked like a fedora on his head. What caught your attention as you passed, was the small peek of icy, blue hairs that were just visible on the side. A deep grumble that sounded from the room made your breath catch in your throat, and made you stop in your tracks. It sounded so familiar to the sadistic voice from this morning. The man with the cane had gotten into the hospital?! How, they upped security measures, hadn’t they? Maybe it was your imagination playing with you with all the stress. Not wanting to stick around to figure out if you were right, you tried to get away before they had noticed you.

But, sadly, you weren’t that lucky.

“Excuse me, nurse. Perhaps you can help me.”

You felt your whole body stiffen as the voice was all to clearly the one that had stalked you from beyond the counter. The voice that dripped with crazed malice and venom as he called out for Agust, that had taunted and tried to lure him out. The voice that you were sure would haunt your dreams. It was the man with the cane, though he didn’t have it now. As you turned, he looked nothing like the half-crazed man yelling and destroying things around him. He looked almost normal, save for the fake smile he had plastered across his lips. He was no longer dressed in the light blue suit and fur coat you had caught a glimpse behind the counter, but in a simple dark blazer and trousers. The man who lingered in the doorway had come to stand next to him as they walked up to you, dressed in a police uniform. His uniform cap was pulled low to obscure his face, though you could see bruising and swelling through the shadows. Both of them gave a slight bow to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Taop, this is officer Chen. We are here following up on a patient that was supposed to be brought here. I’ve been looking everywhere, but no one has an answer for me whether he is here or not. And I haven’t seen a single worker on this floor.”

He had never seen you at the scene so you knew he didn’t recognize you, or could see that you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth. That would help you, you decided. You took a deep breath and tried to hide the fear and nervousness. Just act normal. Try to stall until someone comes around.

“Sorry, officer, we’re a bit understaffed as it is. What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a patient that was brought here. Gunshot victim, a young man, brought in this morning?”

“Can you be a bit more specific? We are a hospital. Do you know how many young men we have come in here with some kind of bullet wound? I had six this month.”

You saw the smile slip and irritation rise in those cold eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to his polite composure. “This one would have come in this morning. There was a shooting downtown. He would have had multiple gunshot wounds. One nurse said he was brought in by ambulance this morning, but then another said that they found no record of him. And the last person I talked to sent me here. Please, this is very important.”

“Can I see your badge, sir?” He looked completely off guard by the question. You, also, seemed confused. It had just jumped out of your mouth before you realized it. But it seemed like the right thing to ask. You continued, “There’s been a threat made to the hospital, you see, and I need to make sure that everything is in order. I would get in trouble if I gave such information about any patient to an imposter.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning. But you didn’t expect him to nod his head, understandingly, and reach into his pocket to hand you a leather, bifold wallet. Was this psycho really a police officer? How could someone so vile be in law enforcement? You thought back to what little memories of your father that you had lingering in the back of your mind and couldn’t begin to imagine him doing anything like what this man had done, no matter how bad of a criminal they were. Before you could think, your body seemed to act on it’s own again and opened the wallet and your eyes started to dance across the metal shield. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for at first. Until your eyes caught it and something clicked in your mind. It was a fake, but an exceptionally good fake. Anyone else would have just taken it at face value but something in your mind flashed and screamed that this was a fake like the smile still on the ‘inspector’s’ face. In the reaches of your memory, you remembered running your fingers over your father’s badge, memorizing every detail. And you still did that when you were stressed out; you still had his badge and it was currently in the front pocket of your bag. And you seemed to recall your father teaching you how to identify a real badge from others.

A sudden anger took hold of you that seemed to spur on some brave part of you. You closed the wallet and handed it back to him, keeping your face neutral to hide that you were even more sure of his act. Maybe it was the dishonor to officers like your father, or that he was trying to get to the boy you had risked a lot to save. And your hard work was not going to waste. “I’m sorry officer. But like I said, we have a few patients that could fit your description. None on this floor at all. And if the other nurses said they have no record of him, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Besides that, if we did have a patient come in with multiple gunshot wounds, I imagine that they’d need extensive surgery and wouldn’t be conscious to answer any questions you could have. And with no guardian to act in their place until they are awake to consent to a line of questioning about a traumatic experience, I can’t let you go any further. You should know that, Officer.”

The smile was wiped from the man’s face. The uniformed man’s eyes got wide at your declaration and they shifted towards his leader in panic. Taop, or whatever his real name was, straightened up and took a step towards you. He towered over you and the energy radiating from him would have intimidated you into submission. Just like with your ex. But you needed to protect Agust. In any case, all you needed to do was scream and someone would be alerted. There wasn’t much this asshole could accomplish without being found out. But he continued to advance until he backed you up against the wall. Even still, you never broke eye contact with him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation of this, little girl,” he said, rage tittering on the edge of his voice. “There are some really dangerous people and it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfires. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions and tell me what I need to know.”

“Then bring a warrant,” you challenged.

His hand collided with the wall next to your head, making you jump. His face was so close to yours now, and there was the crazed man you remembered from this morning. Your heart was in your ears. He, suddenly, took a deep inhale then another before tilting his head to the side. “What a brave little girl. Tell me, where were you this morning? Something tells me you may be exactly who I need to talk to.”

“Hey, back off her!”

Both you and the man turned to look down the hall towards the elevator towards the source of the deep voice that had interrupted the line of questioning. The doors of the elevator were opened and from them stepped a young man with platinum white hair. His eyes were haunting and strong, like a dragon woken from his peace. He was exceptionally tall, taking long strides towards the scene. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take in the man who was coming to your rescue. Dressed in a dark trouser and a white buttoned up shirt gave him a classic handsomeness, and a long black coat with a hood drawn up that accentuated his height. As he approached, he slid the hood down and swiped his hand up to push the stray white hairs from his face. If you weren’t terrified, you would have appreciated how handsome he was. You glanced back at the man caging you; his body tensed as the newcomer walked up but his face never showed.

He let out a sigh and a small smile reappeared, but it was not the same he had tried to charm you with. It was one of arrogance. “Ah, Mr. Kim,” the inspector said, not moving from his position, “how nice of you to drop in.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” the handsome newcomer said, his tone low and smooth.

“What for? Being too formal? Do you not like me using your surname? I’m not sure which name you prefer now; you change names so often, it’s hard to keep up after all this time.”

“You’re one to talk. What name are you going by now, officer? Here to investigate a fraud? Or are you here to put yourself into more trouble?”

“Such a negative attitude. Officer Chen and I are here on official business,” the detective flashed his badge at the so named Mr. Kim. “And this nice young lady was willing to help me out with some information. Isn’t that right, Little Girl?”

“It sure doesn’t look that way coming from the elevator. I think you need to take a step back,” Mr. Kim ordered with a strong but suggestive tone that made you question what kind of power someone as young looking as him could possess.

The fake detective made no sign that he was planning on heeding the newcomer’s words to move from your personal space. His eyes shifted from Mr. Kim back to you. His stare bore into you sharper than claws and made your breath catch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to scare you into agreeing with him or just threaten you. But Mr. Kim was having none of that; he gave the older man’s shoulder a hard shove and wedged himself in the space between you to keep you away from the other man. Mr. Kim reached a hand behind him and placed it on your arm, to keep you secure behind him and to give you some reassurance that he was not going to hurt you. You couldn’t help yourself, as you fisted your hands into the back of his coat and peered around his massive frame.

“You always have to play savior, don’t you Rapmon?” The way he had said the name made it seem like he was trying to strike a nerve in Mr. Kim. But the other man gave no sign that he was bothered. “You make it seem like I was doing something unseemly to her. You and your broken boy scouts always turn things difficult. Speaking of, where are the others? Maybe they could answer some questions for me. There’s one in particular I’m interested in seeing. I’m checking up on a victim from a shooting downtown. Just making sure he’s doing alright.”

“You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t you Choi? Oh, sorry- what name are you going by today? It’s so hard to keep track, isn’t that what you said?” Mr. Kim tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling with a mischievous shine.

“What a nuisance you are. I’m just trying to get information to make sure things go well. Though come to think of it, your boys may not know much. Word was that the victim was all alone. Left all by themselves, bleeding and hurt in such a dangerous situation. What kind of friends would let someone knowingly go into that situation alone? Now, I’d really like to finish my conversation with the little lady, Rapmon.” When Choi, as you figured his name actually was, took a step towards you, Mr. Kim moved the both of you to keep you behind him and further away from the other. “Well, since you seem hellbent on keeping me from doing something so simple, I could always ask you. Though to be honest, your being here may have answered my questions.”

“My being here answers nothing,” Mr. Kim challenged. “Unlike you, I am here to do good for the community. And it’s a good thing I came by when I did. You’re already on thin ice after all the trouble you’ve caused. Imagine what would happen if you caused any problems while on Hallowed Ground. If you were to hurt anyone staying or working here, you would have more than my family looking for you. The rest of the Families would be looking to teach you a lesson. Imagine what most of them will think when they hear about the deceit you pulled this morning. After what I witnessed, you can be sure I’ll have eyes monitoring this place. You will not go against the Accords.”

“Don’t you lecture me about the Accords, you psycho. I’ve been around just as long as they have and lived them. I taught them to you.”

“And yet, you only follow them when they suit you. Just like your leader and his before him. But things are different now. They are gone, and your hold is slipping. I have enough pull now to ensure Accords are followed. And if you want to make a further spectacle of yourself, I’ll gladly show you I’m not that kid anymore that you ordered around. You saw what my boys can do when pushed. Try me.”

Choi started to laugh, eyes shining in disbelief at the younger bossing him around. As you peered around Mr. Kim’s frame, you saw him go to say something to officer Chen, but couldn’t form the word. He raised his hand towards the white-haired man, but let it drop with a growl. Whatever look was set upon the elder made him rethink his next move. He settled for raising his hands in a surrender and jerking his head towards his companion to tell him they were leaving. It surprised you that he was giving up so easily after how he had acted towards you. You weren’t sure what Mr. Kim meant by accords and families, but it was more than obvious that it meant something to them. Glancing up at your protector, his face remained locked in the same stern and serious mask he had when he had appeared. His eyes, perfectly lined and accentuated with makeup that only made him more intriguing, followed the pair as they turned down the hall.

But before they could get too far, Choi stopped. He turned enough to gaze at the two of you over his shoulder, the dark and manic gleam from that morning flashing like a warning sign. He chuckled before his teasing and taunting voice that had called out to Agust filled the hall like glass shattering. “Look at how far our little maniac has come. Really living up to the title of Mad Leader, aren’t you? He thinks he’s so big and strong that he can just order me around and act like a knight in shining armor to the weak. The Mad Leader’s trying so hard to put up a front, to hide who he is, to hide the other side of the looking glass. But lest he forget, I know things he wouldn’t want others to know. And I seem to recall,” Choi turned fully around and took a full stride back towards Mr. Kim, “you had an issue with places like this. You don’t enjoy being here. Are you falling down the rabbit hole? You even have an Alice this time it would seem. So tell me, Mad Leader, are the walls closing in on you yet? Are you feeling anxious?”

You could feel Mr. Kim tense up at the name ‘Mad Leader’ each time Choi said it. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He gave you a polite push away from him before fixing Choi with a glare that made officer Chen startle. You could almost feel the air change as he stepped up to be nose to nose with the thug.

“Since you can’t seem to remember my name, asshole, let me spell it out for you. It’s RM, R to the M. And I’m a motherfucking monster. Keep pushing me. I dare you. You hurt one of my boys. You better pray that he makes it out of all this ok. Or you’ll see just how ‘mad’ I can get.”

Chen seemed to realize that something bad was building as he took hold of his superior and pulled him away from RM, newly identified. Choi kept the taunting smile spread across his lips as he allowed Chen to lead him away. Before he got too far, he looked over at you and gave a nod, “We’ll be in touch, Little Girl.” And then he disappeared from the floor, leaving you in the presence of RM. You can’t say you had expected this person to belong to the voice on the other end of the phone, but it would seem like that was the theme of the day. The tall man took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his white hair before turning back to you. The serious mask he had worn had slipped away and was more approachable. He straightened his clothes before returning to your side.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, “But he shouldn’t be back. He talks a good game but he knows when he’s out done. Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “I can’t believe he got in. The hospital is on lock down.”

“Well, he’s been around a while. He has his ways. Now that he’s gone, I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a nurse called Y/N.” You locked eyes with him and gave him a nod of affirmation. He gave you a smile, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks that made him much more innocent and sweeter than the man who had gone nose to nose with the monstrous thug. “That’s a coincidence. Nice to meet you. Can you show me where to go?”

“Prove that you’re who you say you are,” you said, taking a step away from him. Despite that you were sure he was the one you had talked to, it seemed like nothing was safe. He looked at you for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone before letting his finger glide across the screen. A moment later, Agust phone sounded off in your pocket. He glanced over at you with a bemused look as you pulled the phone out and saw the screen lit up with a notification.

- God of Destruction: It’s me.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling embarrassed by your sudden suspicion, “but after that guy flashed a fake police badge at me, I just wanted to be sure. Thank you for coming and for helping me. Are you Agust’s brother or a friend?”

RM’s eyes narrowed when he heard you say Agust and gave you a strange look. His eyes seemed to dance about you, as if he was trying to figure something out. But as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared and he smiled again. “We usually call him Suga. Only people who don’t like him call him Agust. I don’t think he’d want you calling him that. Can we go see him now? We’ve been worried about him.” You nodded and motioned him to follow you back to the elevator. As you waited for the doors to reopen, he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Hyung you had his phone.”

“What? Does he have some embarrassing things on here,” you joked.

“Maybe,” came the reply and heard RM chuckle as he allowed you to step into the elevator.

You hit the button for the floor that they moved Agu- Suga to, the doors slid shut, and the lift jolted to a start. As the sound of the mechanisms filled the space, you caught a glimpse of the tall man flinch. It seemed odd, seeing as he had just faced off against the most frightening person you had ever seen. The taunting words he had said to RM before leaving came to mind, about not liking it in a hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have bad experiences related to hospitals, so you tried to brush it off. Once you had made it to the secure floor, you led him down the hall. You explained that the floor was only accessible to a few people and how they had followed the directions as specified to the director. The entire time, RM listened very intently, eyes never leaving you. He was the picture of professionalism and sincerity. You swiped the two of you into the ward, and he held the door open for you as you led him down the hall to the room. As you neared the room, you wondered if you were going to survive the present of two very handsome men. Hopefully, the rest of his friends that you heard over the phone were somewhat average.

As you both entered the room, RM came to a stop in the threshold of the door, his eyes staring at the bed. You could see the worry and panic that you had heard over the phone slip across his face. You reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you with an almost innocent gaze, like he was questioning if it was alright to get closer. You gave him a nod and he was beside his friend in a flash. He looked as if he was debating to reach out to Suga, as if he were made of glass, but settled for taking hold of his hand. RM let out a breath and looked relieved to have finally seen his friend. From your place at the edge of the room, you could see how much one meant to the other and all worries about them being as bad as Choi disappeared.

“Is he going to be ok? What did they do to him,” RM asked, never taking his eyes off his companion.

“Dr. Na took good care of him,” you said, reaching for the file at the end of the bed. “He was shot twice, once in the shoulder and on his left side. The gunshot wound on his side appeared to be at close range and the bullet went through. Thankfully, there wasn’t much damage done. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but Dr. Na was able to remove it and mend up some of the damage. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but he should have full range of motion after some rest. He, also, has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Along with bruising and defensive wounds pretty much everywhere. He, also, lost a lot of blood. He’s in the middle of a transfusion now. But he is responding well to everything and we believe he should be waking up soon. With enough care, patience, and support, he should make a full recovery in no time. Which is amazing; when I found him, I was worried with how much blood he had lost that he may have had a harder road to recovery.”

RM flicked his eyes over to you. “You found him?”

“They must not have told you. I was on my way to work when I heard the gunshots. I was the first to find him and get him to safety.”

RM looked like he wanted to ask more questions, when a soft groan came from the bed and drew the attention. Suga took in a deep breath and his body shifted as if fighting to wake and identify the voices. After a tense moment, his body relaxed and his eyes opened slightly. From the edge of the bed, you could see the glazed and shiny effects of the medication still trying to hold him in the state of unconsciousness, and realized he may not fully be aware of what is happening. But you were sure the presence of RM had drawn him out enough to give them a sign that he was okay. RM called out to his hyung softly, drawing Suga’s attention as he gazed about the room.

“Hyung, hey, can you hear me?”

Suga’s eyes fully landed on RM. It seemed as if he was fighting his way to recognition before he gave a small, drugged smile back. “Joon,” his voice sounded exhausted and stained.

RM laughed. “Yeah, Hyung, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

“Joonie, I think I’m dead. I saw an angel.”

The whitehaired man reached out and ran his fingers, gently, through his friend’s hair. “No, Hyung, you’re only tired. That bastard messed you up but you’re gonna be alright now. Why don’t you go back to sleep? The boys and I will be here when you wake up.”

“Oh,” Suga said, almost sounding disappointed as the drugs started to drag him back to oblivion, “too bad. It was a pretty angel. Prettier than Jiminie and Hyungie combined. But don’t tell them I said that.” And just as fast as he woke, Suga went silent and still again.

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

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pin prick and needle sticks.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: your solution for roman’s feeding problem is met with some resistance.

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ya im having so much fun writing again so hopefully there will be more! i hope you enjoy and if you do, pls give me some feedback (-:

also this is a repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags

When you strode into Dr. Pryce’s office, he didn’t try to hide his surprise at your uncharacteristic appearance.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! This is surely an unexpected visit.” Pryce pushed out of his desk chair to meet you in the middle of the large glass room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You say politely as Johann takes the coat that’s folded over your arm.

“No, not presently. I was just about to wrap up some paperwork and go to lunch.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I am hoping my question has a simple enough answer.” You say as you take a seat in one of the visitors chairs across from his desk.

“So, you are looking for my expertise on a matter?” Pryce asks, taking his own seat now.

“Yes, and maybe a small favor depending on your answer.” You smile, trying to seem as sweet as possible.

You knew Johann was asked for wild favors and cover ups where the Godfrey family was concerned constantly, almost on the daily. You wanted him to be receptive to your idea and not shoot you down before he heard your pitch.

Pryce was tolerant of your presence and occasionally even fond of your acquaintance when Roman needed him for something or another. You were very bright and amiable company.

He sighs deeply, already seeming resistant, “Is this a Roman related favor?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s more like a gift I need your help in giving.”

Johann looked extremely perplexed as he placed his laced fingers on his desktop, “Now I am very intrigued. Please, proceed,”

“You are aware that Roman has been having some trouble sourcing food. Right?” You try to say everything as delicately as possible, even though you knew Pryce knew about Roman’s situation in full. Probably even more than you knew.

“Yes, I am. Unfortunately Olivia forbids me to speak with him on the matter before she does, and she refuses to do so until Roman goes to her for help.”

“Withholding access to food, sounds like an award winning mother if you ask me.”

Johann chuckles, “Yes, Olivia is nothing but selfless.”

“Selfless and maternal.”

Pryce laughs again before he asks you what is the nature of your visit in relation to Roman and his upirism.

“Like all things in Roman’s life that are broken, I have found the solution to fix them. In this case, I have decided that I will take my blood and give it to him. As much as I can give, so he will never have to worry about where to feed again.” You said this with a self assured expression, elated that you had come up with a way to help your love.

The true extent of Roman’s feeding problem had become apparent one night while you were making love.

Roman sat on his knees, your legs around his waist while he pressed his hips deliciously into yours. He had set a gentle rhythm of thrusts, ones that were illicting your mewls and calls of his name from your lips. While you were reveling in your pleasure, Roman was trembling. Desire filming his eyes as they transfixed on your jugular. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the faint thrum in your neck, your voice becoming hazy and distant as his mouth watered at the sight of your craned neck below him. It wasn’t until you grabbed his cheeks that he snapped from his thirsty stupor.

Roman tumbled off your naked form to the floor of the bedroom unceremoniously, skirting away from you until his back reached the wall, the farthest wall from the bed. You had sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as you stared at your crumpled boyfriend, who shook and stammered under his breath.

“I can’t, OK? We can’t! Not until I feed again. I don’t think I can control it- I can’t control myself.”

“Baby, it’s going to be fine. I know you would never hurt me,” You push away the remains of crumpled sheets and begin toward him, but Roman flinches aggressively.

“I can’t help it, no matter how much I don’t want too, I will. I would kill you just for a taste and I would hate myself forever.”

You wanted to offer yourself up on a silver platter then and there. Ask him to drink from you because even if he doubted his control, you knew he would stop feeding before you were in any semblance of danger. You just wanted to make him feel better, in any way you could. But, as Roman wove his hands into his hair and tugged ruthlessly at the roots, it was clear that this wasn’t going to become an argument, or even a conversation. Roman left the bedroom soon after, muttering something about the refrigerator and leeches, while you watched him leave with an ache in your chest.

You had been trying to figure out the best possible solution to Roman’s problem since. After contemplating many different avenues, you concluded that you weren’t a bank robber (even if it was just a blood bank) and hiring someone from Craigslist seemed too risky (and too weird). So, you had fallen back on your original idea from that night: Roman would drink from you.

“To be clear, you want to extract your own blood and stockpile it for Roman?”

“Exactly. I just need to know how to do it and how much I can give per week without dying of iron deficiency or something.” You nonchalantly reply.

“This is very noble of you to do, (Y/N).”

You wave a dismissive hand at his compliment, “I just want to help him in the best way I can. It’s what you do for the people you love.”

Pryce stares at you for a moment, and begins to wonder how Roman attracted you in the first place? He was sure it was the young man’s killer good looks and the charm he held with the opposite sex that first caught your attention, but you were a smart girl. You wouldn’t fall for him simply because he was a blueprint for a Greek statue or threw a few saccharine words your way. He wondered if Roman was warm and adoring? Sweet and loving and soft when he was only in your company? From what Pryce had seen first hand, Roman was kind and gentle when you were around, but only ever to you. The second Roman laid his eyes back on Pryce or anyone else for that matter, he was back to an angry frothing terror to anyone in his path.

“When giving blood for say, The Red Cross, they take about a liter of your blood which is around 15 fluid ounce. You shouldn’t give more than that a mouth, but I could give you a few supplements that could help replenish your red blood cells at a slightly quicker rate so you would be able to give blood once a week.

“You would likely need to take breaks, possibly a month on and a month off? To make sure that giving blood this frequently wouldn’t take any serious toll, or have any significant side effects on the body.” Pryce explains.

“And these supplements won’t do anything weird to me if I take them?” You trusted Pryce, but only minutely. While you felt cordial with him, you still knew to be weary of his experiments.

“No, of course not. They are all over the counter supplements and vitamins that you can buy on your own accord. I would just tell you how, when and the quantity to take.”

You sighed at his answer and laughed lightly, “So it’s all good? We could do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I could send a tech to your home to administer the IV, and possibly if this method of feeding works out for Roman long term, you could learn to insert it yourself.”

“Am I going to have like, crazy puncture marks? Am I gonna look like a junkie?” You asked, the vanity of this whole thing only now coming to your mind.

“Unfortunately, there will be noticeable marks and possible bruises from repeated insertions. I could work on something to heal your puncture marks, as I said, if this becomes a main source of Roman’s feeding.”

You nod, mulling over the information for a moment.

“When could we start?”

Telling Roman about the whole thing never even crossed your mind. To you, this was a gift that you were going to give to him, and you loved the element of surprise. It was strange, sure, but to you, this idea of yours felt totally romantic. Some women gave their boyfriends watches, or flat screen TV’s, or let them put in their ass on their birthdays; but for your boyfriend? The man who had every material object he desired and every sexual need quenched? Your blood was a perfect way to show him you cared.

You didn’t want Roman to get just one bag for the first time you presented him with the blood, so you waited four long weeks to create your mini arsenal for him. You just took to wearing long sleeves around the house and silk robes right before bed to hide the little marks on your arms. Roman, still not at his most observant from his lack of feedings, didn’t even bat an eye at your clothing choices.

After your final session with one of Pryce’s tech’s in your home, you felt giddy. You had been keeping the blood in the outside fridge until you had the stockpile you desired, knowing Roman never checked it’s contents. Tonight was the night you were finally going to give them to him.

After Pryce’s man left, you placed your newest bag in the refrigerator and went back inside to change into something far more alluring than the sweatpants you adorned currently. This was going to be a special night for your man and you wanted to pull out all the stops. You had already directed Conway and Anna to make a four course feast for the two of you before you would bring out Roman’s surprise.

After changing into the tightly fitted black dress you had picked out a few weeks ago, along with Roman’s favorite silk lingerie set, you went back downstairs to continue to set the scene for Roman when he returned from work. You scattered candles around the room and played an old jazz record to soothe any worry or anxiety from your boyfriend once he entered your shared home. You wanted everything to be perfect, he deserved it.

As you finished and Anna and Conway were wrapping up the meal, you heard someone placing a key in the front door. You turned to see Roman’s tall silhouette through the frosted glass and you couldn’t keep the smile off your lips.

When he walked through the door, he looked exhausted. His eyes were haloed in shadows and he was gaunt, his pale skin pasty and dull. He looked about ready to collapse.

Until he saw you.

“Welcome home.” You said, a wide grin on your features.

“What’s all this?” Roman asked as you met him by the door.

“I know how stressed you’ve been and I wanted to set up a nice evening for the two of us.” You replied as you pushed his coat off his shoulders and held out for Conway to take.

Roman glanced over your shoulder to see the extent of the fuss you had made for him and his shoulders visibly relaxed, “You’re amazing.”

You took both his hands and started to walk back toward the table, “That I am, and I have a little surprise for you after dinner.”

Roman tugs you to him suddenly, causing you to stumble a bit in your heels, but that only accomplished to bring you flush to him.

“Is my surprise under this sexy little get up of yours?” Roman’s eyes twinkle with lust as he moves his hands down to grip your ass.

You hum with delight, “I guess you have two surprises coming, then.”

You lean up to place a lingering kiss to his lips and Roman groans a curse as you step away from his hold.

“But for now, let’s eat and unwind. How was your day?” You ask, pulling out Roman’s chair for him.

“Better now.” He grinned, one that was without smare or ulterior motive. Just a pure smile radiating happiness.

After you chatted about your days and Roman having bitched about work to his heart’s content, you both finished the delicious dinner that was prepared for you. You had moved across the table to sit on his lap while you both shared a chocolate mousse, the gentle ping of the silver spoon against the serving glass lulling you both into calm relaxation and sloth as you ate the rich dessert.

Roman’s temple was pressed against your exposed cleavage, practically purring with the bliss he felt.

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I needed it.” He sighed, turning his head just enough to let you kiss his lips.

“Of course, my love.” You responded, stroking your hand through his hair, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if it’d make you happy.”

“Hey,” Roman smiles, poking your side, “That’s my line.”

You giggle as Roman prodes you, “Well, while I’m taking your lines, let me take another. I got you something and I need to go and get it.”

“You know I don’t need anything.” Roman says, squeezing you once more before you got off his lap.

“This present is something you need, trust me.” You say over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen and enter the garage to get the gift box you had prepared.

Was this all very dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Of course.

But you loved pampering Roman, so you threw all cares to the wind.

As you entered the kitchen with the rectangular black gift box held together with a silk ribbon, Roman looked at you confused.

“Jeez, what is that? Is my mother’s head in there?” He asked as he watched you place the box on the dining table.

“I wish.” You chuckled, dusting your hands off on your dress as you looked into Roman’s puzzled expression, “Open it.”

Unable to even guess what could be in the box, Roman stood up and walked toward you and where it lay.

“It’s not gonna be anything that’s gonna pop out at me, right?”

“Oh my God, stop being such a bitch and open it already!” You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder as you quaked with excitement.

Roman finally pulled on the black ribbon and slowly untied it, causing the sides of the box to fall apart and reveal it’s contents.

“Surprise!” You said, jumping slightly in place, barely able to keep your excitement to yourself as Roman took in the gift.

He just looked at the blood blankly, all placed in a row before him. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

“How did you get this?”

“Well, that’s the extra special part. It’s mine,” You gestured to the blood, “It’s all from me.”

Roman looked up at you, and the appreciation you’d thought you’d see written all over his face wasn’t there. Instead his face was red with anger.

“How could you do this? How could you be so reckless!” Roman raged.

Your heart sank with embarrassment and grief.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Like it? Baby, why would I like you taking your blood to give to me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you!” You cowered under his voice, lip quivering.

“I thought you would be happy, I thought I was helping. Now you don’t have to worry about feeding or hurting anyone. I can just give blood every now and then and give it to you.” You responded, trying desperately to mend the evening.

“How did you even do this? How did you figure this out?” Roman picked up one of the bags and furiously tossed it back down.

You furrowed your brows and took a step toward your boyfriend, “OK, so don’t get mad- well, don’t get more mad I guess… but I asked Pryce-”

“You asked Pryce?” Roman shrieked, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Yes! But it wasn’t his idea, it was mine. The whole thing was my idea and all he did was help me and make sure I was safe.” You said quickly as Roman paced the length of the table in front of you.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that stupid little prick and rip his cock off and shove it down his throat!” Roman bellowed.

“Ro, it’s not his fault,”

“It is! He let you do this! Indulged you! He fucking put a needle in your arm and touched you!” It was then that Roman finally zeroed in on the small circular band aid on the inner crook of your elbow and his face passed its red hue into bright crimson.

“Pryce never touched me! He had a lab tech help me.”

“Then I’m killing the tech, then Pryce, then everyone in that fucking nut house of a lab who knew this was happening and didn’t tell me!”

“Stop!” You shouted over Roman’s angry rant, “Enough! This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own, apparently. I fucked up, I can see that now. But I honestly and truly thought you would love this. That you could be satiated from my blood and never worry about where the next source would come from. But hey? Guess I was wrong.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you turned on your heel to leave.

“(Y/N),” Roman called after you but you stuck up your hand to silence him.

“No, I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you in bed.” And you walked up the stairs to leave your boyfriend stewing in his own ire.

Stripped from your dress and lingerie, you lay under the thick covers of the bed and mindlessly watch some old re-run of a sitcom. It had been well over an hour since you had left Roman in the kitchen and each second he stayed away was another second of heartbreak and humiliation. You still weren’t sure why Roman had blown up the way he did… sure it was risky, but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You were a grown fucking woman who knew her own limits. You had picked up the supplements Pryce had prescribed you and you had been feeling perfectly fine. If you ever started to feel any effects, you knew you would head straight to Pryce or your primary doctor.

As another commercial break washed over the screen, Roman opened the door to the bedroom and peeked his head inside.

“You OK?”

“No.”

Roman sighed as he came fully into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the scene down there…”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have asked you first if you would have been OK with me doing this for you.” You slumped your shoulder into the mattress.

Roman just watched you.

“I just… Roman, I really thought you would like it! I thought you might even be grateful. I really meant what I said downstairs, I would give you a star if that would make you happy, I really would. And I thought helping solve your feeding problem would make you happy, and it didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

Still Roman stayed silent, just studying you, wrapped in a coil of thick blankets. He soon walked toward the bed and sat on the corner, his back facing you. He hunched over and placed his head in his hands, gently shook it side to side.

“I was never really even that mad at you, baby. Just at Pryce, I guess. And scared…”

“Scared about what?”

“Seriously? You’re going to ask that?” Roman glowered.

You kicked your foot out to the edge he was sitting on to jostle him, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He grumbled something under his breath that you sure was unkind before he continued.

“I was obviously fucking scared because this could go wrong, alright? You could get sick or stop clotting or something! I don’t know. I don’t have to be rational when it comes to your safety and health.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment, “I thought I was being rational coming up with this idea, Roman. In my head, this would solve everything. No more leeches or starving or worrying that you’ll kill someone when it gets too much!”

Roman looked back at you, his eyes intense as your cheeks heated with your outburst.

“I just-! Fuck,” He turned back around, bouncing his knee, “I don’t want you to do this for me and something bad happening. That’s it, that’s all.”

You frown and whisper his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And because you went to Pryce and not me… and that no one at my own fucking company told me about this. Fucking traitors.”

You shuffled your way out from the blankets and crawled your way toward Roman, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder to gage his reaction before you moved to hug him.

“I’m not going to get hurt, I promise. Pryce told me where to buy some vitamins to keep me healthy and they have been working. I won’t continue if I start to feel sick. And if by some chance I do, you will be the first person I tell.”

Roman says nothing at first, but you knew he heard you. You placed a few simple kisses to his shoulder and wound your arms tighter around his waist, snuggling to him.

“I want to know the second you start to feel anything less than fantastic, OK? If you feel faint or nauseous or even if you have a fucking headache, alright? I’m not fucking around here.” He replied firmly.

A smile spread across your face and you pressed it to his skin, “Of course, baby. No more secrets ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roman trailed off with a sigh, but leaning into your touch.

“You know,” You started, moving around his neck to see his face, “I thought the idea of you drinking my blood was very romantic. Maybe even erotic.”

Roman moved to give you a quizzical look and you only grinned wider.

“Something about giving myself to you fully, running through your veins, letting you have all of me, you don’t think that’s romantic?”

Roman’s lips began to pull into his signature smirk, “I think I was little more taken by your erotic comment.”

You giggled and playfully bit his shoulder, “I don’t know, I think about watching you drink it… about you covered in it and knowing it’s from me,”

Roman was quick to grab you and manhandle you around him and into his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, smirk persistent as his hands explored your body.

“Yeah… knowing you drink my blood, my cum, that you’re the only one who knows my taste… it got me all hot, baby.”

Roman groaned deep in his chest as he dug his fingers into your hips, twitching his hips up against you and making your eyes flutter.

“My baby, my girl,” He hummed, leaning forward to ghost his lips over your own, “You drive me absolutely wild.”

“All better now?”

Roman just chuckles, grinding you down onto him.

“And you’ll drink the blood?”

“Yeah, fine,” And he finally kisses you.

You knew that he was playing it off now like it was nothing, but the honesty you had shown him, and the utter devotion you had just pledged, meant something to him. It meant everything to him.

i really hope you enjoyed!!!! if you do, i’d love to hear your thoughts (:

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey reader insert #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #hemlock grove reader insert #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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jungxk · 5 years ago

Text

just one (vii)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (oral: m receiving. unprotected sex, brief cumplay)

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 10.4k

tagging: @underthejoon @misosoup-forthesoul

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

jungkook knows from the second he heard seulgi's steps marching to the front door that he should have just sat back and waited for your reply before coming over. but he has a busy afternoon and somewhere to be in less than an hour, and it's much too late to scarper because seulgi yanks the door open before he can twist on his heels. her hair is up in a pile on top of her head with a huge sweatshirt coming down to her knees but jungkook has never been more terrified. seulgi watches him so carefully he swears she can see the beads of sweat forming on his temple. "seulgi noona! good morning," no response. "um...how are you?"

seulgi taps her foot. "you want to know how i am after you finished all the fruit loops and left your dirty underwear on my bathroom floor?" even though he's a head taller than her, jungkook still scurries to obey when she points him into the flat. "how do you think i am, jungkook? because i feel like i'm a single mother to a messy, inconsiderate weasel who doesn't know how to put the toilet seat down!"

"um...sorry?" jungkook offers timidly, hoping his cute grin will lessen his sentence. it usually works on his hyungs and hookups. "i'll replace the fruit loops, i promise. and i'll work on the toilet thing!"

just when he thinks he's in the clear and tries to step passed her, seulgi grabs jungkook by the ear and yanks him back to make him shriek. "fuck yeah you'll work on it! you also have to work on not using my limited edition apple-scented conditioner that i've been saving up for since before you were born!"

"you're only three years older than me!"

she pulls harder. "what was that?"

"i'm sorryyy," jungkook whines uncomfortably, unable to free himself from her grip to keep hold of the huge bag he's clutching. he squeezes his eyes shut when she starts to twist and regrets ever stepping foot here without you to protect him as a human shield. "ow, ow, ow! i said i'm sorry, noona!"

"leave him alone seulgi! you can kill him after friday, he's our ride!" jisoo pokes her head out from the kitchen to make sure that seulgi complies and releases jungkook in one piece, throwing the younger boy a sympathetic smile while he clutches his swollen ear with a pout. "_____ is in the shower, jungkookie. go wait in her room before you leave here decapitated."

jungkook practically sprints down the hall, barely missing seulgi when she lunges for him threateningly. "if you weren't fucking one of my best friends i'd keep your nuts as a keychain, jeon! remember that!"

"kook? you here?" you call just before pushing open your bedroom door, kicking it shut with your heel while holding a towel to your hair. sure enough jungkook is sat at the end of your bed, pink knees showing through the rip in his jeans while he bounces his leg in anticipation. the hoodie he's wearing is too big for him, and he's squeezing the handle of a big, fancy looking paper bag like his life depends on it. "i thought i heard seulgi screaming," you scoff, rushing past him to search for a pair of socks in the laundry basket, haphazardly throwing things into your bag as you go. "sorry, but i'm already late to jimin's, so maybe later? his new order came from asos so he wants my opinions-"

"i'll be quick," jungkook stands quickly, and you finally take a second to get a proper look at his face. big, round eyes looking everywhere but yours when he thrusts the bag at you. "i just wanted to give you this. i'll see you later! if seulgi doesn't castrate me first..."

"wait," you steady a hand on his arm before he can go. "what's this? did i leave something at yours?"

he shakes his head. it's hard to do anything but stare at him: a gift? from jungkook? the most he had ever bought you was the occasional lunch or emergency chocolate, so it was a little hard to believe. a part of you is convinced it was some kind of gag like a costco-size pack of condoms or an accompaniment to those vibrating panties from his birthday but jungkook isn't laughing. if anything, he looks agitated. but it's hard to tell if that was because of seulgi's yelling. he clearly wasn't going to give you an explanation so you sit on the bed and decide to keep jimin waiting another ten minutes.

you pull out the bag's contents and it's heavy. it's a thick wooden case with ornate golden latches, and inside the case are beautifully arranged premium oil paints of every discernible shade you could think of, pristine and practically gleaming against the velvet lining. the set was complete with palette knives and various varnishes and glazing mediums that are only sold with the most luxurious of paint sets. you only ever saw this kind of painting equipment in shop windows or ridiculous online bids and here they were, spread out across your hello kitty bedding. finally, your shaky hands reach out to trace the gold work the edges of the wood just to make sure your eyes weren't deceiving you.

all the while jungkook practically hops from one foot to the other, desperate to leave. "it's okay if you don't like them. you don't have to use them or anything, i just thought-"

"jungkook," you whisper, overwhelmed with questions. "i...they're beautiful," he relaxes significantly. "i just...i can't believe you got your hands on these, they must have cost a fortune...!" you finally meet his eyes, shocked. your hair damp and your expression creased with confusion and even concern...it's sweet. he finds it hard not to smile. you start to shake your head slowly. "kook-ah, i can't accept this. there's no way i can pay you back-"

"why would you pay me back? they're yours," your stomach flips when he looks at you, hands in his hoodie pocket while he hovers over you. he hasn't put his cologne on yet so he smells like baby fabric softener and something sweet. your jungkook. "you needed paints and now you have them." he pauses at your blank expression. "do you need more colours or something? it was the biggest set i could find-"

"no! no, of course not, it's plenty...more than enough! more than i know what to do with, actually..." you stare at him again. "i don't know what to say. i've never had paints so expensive before..." guilt creeps up in the back of your throat. "you didn't have to do this, you know. jisoo and seulgi were going to get me new oils for my birthday anyway...pretty good ones, from the supply shop in town." you close the case carefully. "jungkook, this kit look just shy of a grand..."

"hey," he takes your chin, because jungkook knows that look. he smooths his thumb over your cheek, as if to smooth away the panic with it. "don't be silly. with your talent you were well overdue the fancy stuff anyway. i had the money and i spent it because that's what money's for. it's no big deal."

you lay your hand over his. "it's a big deal to me," you fist your hands in his thick jumper, pulling yourself up to him for a big kiss that's long and wet. it's not often that you throw yourself all over him so unabashedly so jungkook enjoys the attention, lets you nip at his bottom lip while you snake your hands up his hoodie. he's bare underneath. you instinctively trace at his happy trail, swallowing down the taste of him. "take your pants off."

"w-what?" you've already got his belt undone before he opens his eyes, popping his jeans open and loosening them around his hips with your thumbs hooked inside. he has a mole under his belly button that you are just dying to kiss, lowering yourself to sit back on the bed. "you don't have to do this, noona..." he says weakly, but his eyes are already sliding shut while you suck love bites above his underwear. he means it too. he really didn't get you the paint set for a lay.

and that's what makes you want to fuck him even more.

he sighs hard when you palm him over his boxers, tracing firm circles until you're met with a wet patch on the fabric. "i've been using watered down acrylic for almost a month. do you know what that's like for someone who works almost exclusively with oils? fucking horrible, that's what. so let me celebrate," you yank his jeans down under his ass, giving it a light squeeze before pulling him in by the elastic of underwear so that you can open your mouth wide over him atop the fabric, let him feel the heat of your breath over his cock before sucking until you taste pre-cum. only you could get him from zero to a hundred in a few minutes. jungkook gives in, lacing his fingers through your damp hair so that he can buck into your face insistently. he releases a salacious whine, which he isn't used to doing.

you're at the perfect height to have him in your mouth while he's standing and you're sat on the bed, not that you have time for anything else because you're already late. pulling his underwear down along with his jeans, you hum at the sight of jungkook's dripping erection, leaning in to catch the dribbles of pre-cum as if they were going to waste otherwise, and jungkook thinks the sight alone could kill him. he's flushed darker at his tip, and if you concentrate hard enough you could feel the vein on the underside pumping with excitement. you always had a way of eating cock that made him shiver; like you were greedy for it, selfish even. like you'd rather die than not taste every inch of him, every drop, so thirsty for his cream in your mouth that you didn't care what you had to do to get it. it's why he often pushed your head away, not ready to finish so soon, but it's also why he becomes putty in your hands, a slave to your mouth. like it's your cock and he just happens to be attached to it. you're not a lewd girl so he never expected it of you. maybe that's why it delights him so.

the head of jungkook's manhood is swollen, almost bulbous, flushed such a deep red it could kiss violet. you take him in your hand, use your thumb to rub up his length, the soft curve allowing for some gentle pressure at the base. was it possible to be in love with a cock? that's how it felt, and you had never felt this way before. you can't even hide your pleasure when you take the tip in your mouth, rubbing him along the pad of your tongue first before sucking him all the way in. jungkook squirms, tries not to rut his hips but it's impossible, your other hand venturing down to give his balls a gentle fondle. you hum around him as you do, determined to suck every bead of cum out of him. jungkook groans so hard he blushes all the way up to his ears and down the back of neck, sweating profusely now. he's not new to letting girls take the reigns but with you it felt so...invigorating. fresh.

he trembles when you gag around him, watching the saliva and pre-cum accumulate around your chin. your lashes are so long and pretty from this angle. jungkook knows he's a goner once you start to bob your head, wetting the length of him with as much saliva as you can muster. it comes off in a string when you pull away to look at him, cleaning your lips with your tongue. "where do you want to finish, kook-ah?"

it's usually tits. for the sheer visual of course, because they're his weakness. but jungkook knows how much you adore it when he fills your mouth and lets you swallow his load whole, the taste alone so euphoric he can see the whites of your eyes sometimes. and so, with much difficulty, he replies while you twirl your tongue around his leaking tip. "m-mouth. please..."

you don't reply; only smile triumphantly before closing your mouth around his head again and sucking the life out of him. jungkook is vocal, whimpering and moaning and thrusting into your mouth so his belt buckle clicks rhythmically. knowing his answer his answer succeeded in pleasing you made the entire thing that much more overwhelming. jungkook wills himself to look down, seeing your hard nipples through your shirt, a tiny detail but evidently his demise; ropes of his cum fill your mouth, hot and sticky with a noticeable tang you could never get tired of. you keep swallowing, lapping up the remnants long after jungkook has ridden through his high, beginning to writhe from the over-stimulation but he doesn't dare push you away if only to look at you sat there with his dick in your mouth for a few more seconds.

when you finally pull back, swiping at the pre-cum on your chin with your finger and sucking it like pastry cream. he almost passes out. "you should buy me art supplies more often."

"are you kidding?" he's still panting when he climbs on top of you, pushing your giggling form to lie underneath him while he tugs your top up and plays with your breasts; first with his hands, then with his mouth. they're so warm and soft under his lips, the act hardly even sexual but idle. comforting. it feels so nice you squeak when you feel his teeth graze over the puckered skin. "next time i'm getting you a whole studio. or a fucking museum."

"so do you have any explanation for being over an hour late?" jimin examines himself in his wardrobe mirror while you cross your legs on the end of his bed amidst the plastic covered clothing. you try to be as collected as possible but jimin could catch your fidgeting a mile away. "because i had to ask tae for his opinions on these jeans while you were gone, and he was honest. too honest," he studies his body's profile. "do i really have a bubble butt?"

"i just overslept," you say simply, examining him with a finger to your lips. "and definitely not. you're flatter than a naan. those jeans are just creating assets out of nowhere. which is a good thing!"

"and how would you know? does that mean you've been looking?" jimin teases, not even warning you before tugging his tee off from the back in that rough way that boys do. you busy yourself with looking for a shirt to pair his pants with because you know jimin is toned and firm and wonderfully tanned with a smooth chest you used to exclusively fall asleep on. you don't need reminding. "are you shy, ____?"

"do you want me to be shy?" you're both caught off guard by the challenge.

jimin isn't sure whether to be amused or excited but takes the sweater you throw him without comment. "hm, looks a little big."

"you like oversized," you offer. "but you have another jumper just like that."

he holds up the garment and squints. "i do?"

"the grey one," you go to his wardrobe to fetch it, sifting through the various hung clothes before pulling it out. "with the puffy sleeves, see? not worth it if you ask me. what about this navy one?" you pull out one of the new tees from the pile. "i love this colour on you."

you look up to see his perfect smile. "i'll remember that."

you avoid his gaze. "you can wear it to that thing on friday," he watches you scurry back to your seat on the bed again, perching on the end while you wait for him to change with your eyes closed. it's so endearing and innocent he can't stop smiling at you through the mirror. "seulgi and jisoo seem pretty keen on going now, too. what did you tell them?"

"the same thing i told everyone: free drinks and free food," he pulls on the navy shirt and you accidently catch him, unintentionally lingering on his nipples. they're bigger than jungkook's but the same rich, delicious brown. you start to think about this morning and suddenly you clamp your thighs shut. "the guy's loaded, how many more times do i have to say it? and now that seulgi and jisoo are going there's really no reason why you shouldn't either."

you sigh. "jimin, you don't even know this guy. how can you be a walking advert for his party if you don't even-"

"i totally know him!" jimin looks offended, nose all crinkled. "you know irene?"

you perk up hopefully. "...yeah, actually. we went to hers a while ago, right?"

"right! well it's her sister's ex-boyfriend's neighbour's cousin's gym buddy!"

"...you are un-fucking-believable."

"but i'm yours," his palms are suddenly planted firmly on your knees like he always does to get your attention, forcing you to look at him when he shoves them apart slightly. it's a mirror-image of jungkook from this morning after he got you naked, but this time it's jimin's musk and plush lips and hooded eyes that don't falter for even a second. he takes the opportunity while you're quiet, his thumb rubbing circles on the fabric of your leggings. his signature move in the wearing-you-down process. "come with us, babe. you know i wouldn't ask if i didn't think you'd have fun."

"okay..." you say finally. his lips are nearly berry pink. has he been biting them?

jimin pulls back, satisfied. "namjoon and yoongi are going, too. so it's not like you won't know anyone."

namjoon and yoongi means jungkook wouldn't miss it, he always tags along. so seulgi and jisoo really weren't joking when they mentioned he'd be their ride. it's the first time you'd both be somewhere public together since your little escapade started, so you weren't sure how to feel. would you just pretend to be friends? weren't you just friends? would you mingle with namjoon and yoongi like you usually would given they're in his circle? avoid him completely? ride with jimin instead of carpool?

would jungkook get with other girls?

you feel small all of a sudden, stamping down the feeling by opening another plastic covered item of clothing. instead of thinking about your unspoken arrangement with jungkook it felt better just to avoid the entire thing and save yourself the headache. whatever you had going right now was working and it was good, great even. so why mess with it?

before you know it, taehyung is bursting into the room to flop beside you. he twists himself to throw his legs over your thighs without missing a beat, head hanging slightly off the bed when he looks at jimin. "you told him to keep the jeans? seriously, _____?"

"i think they look nice."

"thank you!"

"and i want to borrow them."

"...what?"

"i don't understand why this is taking so long," jungkook complains from under the pillow on his face. he's sprawled out across your bed under an array of tops, skirts, dresses, tights, you name it. he no longer cared. seulgi was doing her eyebrows in her compact mirror on the floor, her makeup surrounding her in a cult-like circle while jisoo was painting her nails on your desk chair, sitting nice and still while you waved her hair with a straightener. it had already been over an hour since jungkook arrived to pick you all up and since then he's fallen asleep, made a snack and watched two episodes of naruto on his phone. "you said to pick you guys up at seven. what's the point if you weren't even ready?"

"when girls say seven they don't actually mean seven, jungkookie," jisoo blows her pinky fingernail dry.

"i just don't get how there's so much to do," he grumbles, knowing better than to reach over and inspect the array of hair products and cosmetics. the three of you kicked up a fuss when he dropped an eyeliner an hour or so ago. "guys just wash their pits, maybe their balls. throw on some lynx and leave."

"and that's why you are the inferior species," seulgi says from behind her mirror. "but maybe you'll survive, jeon. you actually use soap for one thing."

"that's because he doesn't like strong smells," you say absently while parting the last layer of jisoo's hair. "he won't even let me near him if i come back from the studio without a shower."

jungkook splutters with embarrassment when the girls laugh and coo at him. "i told you, the paint smell gives me a headache!"

"speaking of headaches," seulgi gives jisoo an evil, conniving smirk from across the room. "guess who's not coming tonight!"

jisoo rolls her eyes. "if you say taehyung i'm gonna-"

"please! everyone and their mother knows you and tae are extinct. i'm talking about namjoon and yoongi," seulgi looks at her mischievously. "think about it, ____ already gives us a way in. free drinks, fancy house, unfamiliar faces...i heard this rich-kid even has a patio. this is our shot."

jisoo stands up abruptly. "then i need my slutty blouse."

"again, you mean my slutty blouse," you pout.

jungkook lifts the pillow from his face to look at you. "you have a slutty blouse?" the girls ignore him while they filter out of the room in search for it, because it takes an extra pair of hands when it comes to navigating jisoo's wardrobe. jungkook throws the pillow aside, his hair is a bit dishevelled from lying down, but he manages to pull off the style well even in a smart-casual, silk maroon button down and black jeans. not forgetting his array of silver earrings and rings, doing nothing but adding to his devilish look especially when he looks at you so mischievously. you know then that he won't let this topic go without an answer. "why haven't i seen it? your slutty blouse?"

you roll your eyes, glad you're not facing him because it was harder to maintain resolve with eye contact. "what's the point? you barely let me keep a shirt on around you."

he snorts, resting his chin on his hand while he watches you. your already-flattering waistline was now mesmerising in your little dress. "i like boobs. sue me."

"my heart is racing, slick." you say dryly. before he rolls back, you swivel in your desk chair to look at him. "so what's the deal?"

jungkook pops an eye open. "deal?"

"tonight," you gesture between you. "i just think that we should, you know. make sure we're on the same page."

"oh," he shrugs nonchalantly. "well, we're friends. do what you want."

you nod quietly, not exactly satisfied but you let it go. it's not that you expected much else from him so you couldn't say you were disappointed; jeon jungkook doesn't do serious. you knew that going into all of this. you gave up hobi - or rather hobi gave up on you - being well aware of this. in your heart you knew it was more complicated than that, but if it made him feel better about the whole idea by acting like strangers around other people you could accept that. he'd come around eventually. the trust is what's important, the unspoken respect and connection that you both shared. knowing that was intact didn't leave room for much worry or doubt, but one thing did. "i gotta admit though...i'm gonna miss not having a bodyguard."

jungkook looks at you through the corner of his eye. he pauses, internally debating with himself before sitting up with a long sigh. he removes his watch, a big bulky silver one that he always kept on his person. "okay, let me tell you a secret," he looks at you seriously that his next words almost knock you over. "have you watched john tucker must die?"

it's so difficult not to wheeze with laughter, but jungkook looks very solemn so you forcefully hold it in. "yeah, when i was thirteen. like most people. why?"

"because that thing with the watch," he takes your hand, slipping the timepiece over your wrist. "you know near the end, where he gives her his watch? that shit works. wards off the assholes, i mean. at least most of them," it's weighty and far too big, just barely hanging onto your wrist without slipping off completely. it didn't go with the outfit you had planned at all and bordered on uncomfortable but your stomach flickers with butterflies anyway; the paints, now his watch. it meant something, right? still, it's hard to see past such a juvenile concept, which at this point was the norm when it came to jungkook. "the second most guys see this they won't even try approaching you. like vampires and garlic. jimin and vegetables."

"are you kidding?" his expression remains resolute. "jungkook, that was a movie. from like, ten years ago. about sadistic white kids who most likely peaked in high school!"

"the principle is the same!" he argues, so fervent in his expression it's adorable. "just wait and see, you'll get significantly less trouble tonight."

you find yourself smiling playfully. "and if i don't?"

"you can paint me nude like in titanic, and i'll tattoo it right here," he points to the empty space of skin on the inside of his wrist, the same place he showed you forever ago in the library. even now he was reluctant to cover the area to officially complete his sleeve which was symbolic in itself, so it was an awfully big gamble. closest to his hand and in the eye of others, jungkook knows that whatever he decides to tattoo there would be his most high-profile piece. which is how you know he is unwavering in confidence.

you squint at him daringly. "you wouldn't."

"and if you're wrong," he continues with a cheeky grin that he tries hard to reign in. his teeth sink into his bottom lip so you're staring at the mole beneath it when he talks. "you can finally wear those vibrating panties for me with that slutty blouse of yours."

if you paid better attention, you would realise that you knew this neighbourhood. but you're strapped into the passenger's seat of jungkook's eyesore of a truck, seulgi and jisoo screaming along the words to destiny's child with all the windows rolled down. the night air is wonderfully cool for once, fanning through the back of your neck while you soak up in this feeling. laughing with jungkook next to you, blasting out seulgi's playlist, twitching whenever jisoo tries reaching one of those high notes that she frankly cannot; this could work. you turn to look at jungkook between songs, very nearly getting caught up in the need to tell him that.

his sleeves are rolled up the elbows, muscles flexing every time he changes gear. jungkook gives you a salacious flick of his brow when he catches you staring at him. usually he could hold your hand while waiting at the traffic lights but tonight he doesn't, and you know it's almost certainly because jisoo and seulgi would see. or anyone for that matter. it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, has you sitting tucked against your side of the car in deep thought. until you lift your eyes and notice the string of pretty houses passing you, with gates and neatly cut hedges and perfect mailboxes and...oh.

"thank god! i thought we'd never get here," seulgi's already popping open the car door before jungkook has the hand-break on, eager to scout the overly clean street.

jisoo eagerly scrambles after her, still buzzing from pre's. "holy fuck, would you look at this place? that tree is literally ten times prettier than i am!"

"noona," jungkook's voice is laced with concern when he notices how shell-shocked you look, staring straight ahead as if scared to look at the house. "hey, are you okay?"

your head starts nodding automatically but jungkook knows you're lying. but jungkook also knows it isn't his place to ask why, so exits the car at the same time as you do, leaving a considerable distance from you when you make your way up the fancy porch to the girls. in fact, jungkook is nowhere to be seen the second the three of you enter the vast foyer. not that you have any time to notice, your stomach tight with discomfort. even jisoo notices how clammy your hand is when they tug you over to greet irene and her group and then some of seulgi's graphic design friends. you are too on-edge to offer anything more than a thin-lipped smile, fingers gripping into seulgi's hand instinctively but you so, so wished it was jimin's. or even jungkook's.

it's just like how you remember it. the fancy vase on the middle of the table, the pretty white of the skirting board. the third step from the bottom of the staircase still creaked like it used to, and you knew if you lifted the corner of the rug in the dining room there would still be a wine stain. it's hard to make out the other little specifics because of the dim lights and chatter and alcohol but nothing has changed. maybe that picture in the hallway, or the certificates framed on the mantle piece. but everything else about this house is still polished, elegant, pristine. perfect. everything you are not, just like last time.

so you do everything you can to keep yourself occupied and move systematically around the house while you mingle. maybe with a bit of luck and if you played your cards right, you could avoid the one person who you would do anything to pass up a confrontation with.

after hours of making small talk and hiding behind the watch jungkook gave you every time you so much as pass a man, you almost cry in relief when you see hobi chatting happily on the landing of the first floor. usually your sort-of-ex wouldn't elicit such a positive response from you, but you and hobi were still close after calling it quits, so much so that you can't help but rush to his waiting arms. his stare lingers on you when you pull back from him with slightly glazed eyes and a strained smile, nodding to his friends before turning away to hook his elbow securely around your neck. "everything okay?"

"yes! yeah, it's great...i'm great," your teeth grind absently. "i'm happy to see you here, hobi. i've missed you, how've you been?"

"really good," he says, smiling at you like he always did. it wasn't one of those replies that he exchanged with you for pleasantries sake; hobi genuinely meant it. "and how about you?" there's a pause when you look away, unsure how to answer him with a single sentence. "lemme guess...boy trouble?"

at this point you're too tipsy to hold back your wild laughter. "something like that!"

"do i have to ask which one?" hoseok laughs back.

you push him playfully. "you're only teasing because you've literally been the only decent man in my life and you know it!"

"this is true," he runs his hand through his hair confidently. "but jimin can still earn that spot back, right?"

you tilt your head in question. "what do you mean?"

hoseok blinks at you, the smile dropping quickly from his face. the only time you'd seen him like that was when he broke up with you, civilly and maturely on his sofa after dinner. he licks his lips, as if he's not sure whether to believe you or go through with what he actually wants to say. but you would never lie, so that must mean...hoseok sighs. his hair covers his brows, but you can still see them tightly wound with concern when he touches your arm. "____, did jimin not tell you?"

"tell me what?" you ask, more confused than ever.

"well, if it isn't tinkerbell!" is all your hear before you're being picked up and carried down the stairs in one swift movement. normally you'd panic, as any woman would, but namjoon makes sure to lift you so that you can see his face grinning up at you. yoongi, on the other hand, waves at hobi while you're halfway down the staircase, your laughter already ringing so loud from their immaturity you can only just hear him yell back at hoseok. "sit tight hobi-yah, i need a chat with my fake girlfriend and then i'll return her in mint condition!"

"a chat?" you giggle profusely when namjoon drops you on one of the sofa's in the poolroom, which stank of weed men's body spray. their domain. it was exactly what you needed, their brainless banter and drinking games and bickering to keep you distracted and entertained. "am i in trouble, fake boyfriend?"

"that depends," yoongi flops down next to you. "are you gonna tell us the names of your super-hot friends or are you going to make us beg like dogs?"

"i think the title of fake boyfriend should go to me now," namjoon butts in, wedging himself between you and yoongi clumsily so the older boy almost goes flying off the other side. "you can't be the fake boyfriend if you can't carry the fake girlfriend, which hyung had to ask me to do-"

"what kind of dumbass fucking rule is that?" yoongi protests, face scrunched in disbelief. "you can't just make up fake boyfriend rules and-"

"why not? you made up the concept of a fake boyfriend," namjoon turns back to you. "consider my case. i am taller than hyung so i can reach stuff for you, also i have resting bitch face so guys won't bother you. hyung, in comparison, looks like a marshmallow. i'm also a vegetarian-"

"great, so you won't eat her. bravo," yoongi is back by your side again. "i only asked him to carry you because someone made me drink straight gin on the way over here and honestly i couldn't guarantee we'd both make it down those stairs alive if i picked you up, tinkerbell-"

"why does anyone have to pick me up?" you laugh, bouncing up from the sofa to grab the cues from the pooltable. "how about this - whoever wins this game gets seulgi and jisoo's phone and also the fake boyfriend award. what do you say?"

"do you even know how to play?" namjoon teases.

you stop clearing the table to gawk at him. "what, pool? no! i meant beer pong!"

"i'm way too old for this," yoongi sighs, but he's already getting up to open a fresh six-pack.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" jisoo and seulgi come out nowhere while you're on your way back from the bathroom, dragging you into the spacious conservatory. they knew you well enough to know that you even though you appeared relaxed you were far from it, hovering over you while you're backed into a corner. you're thankful at least for the sturdiness of the wall behind you, how cool it is against your skin. "did jungkook propose to you in the car or something? talk about deer in headlights! you've been looking over your shoulder every half a second since we got here."

"yeah, why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" seulgi dabs the sweat on your forehead from a napkin. "at first i just thought you needed to throw up or something."

"because, um..." you scratch your head, brain finally switching on after hours of avoiding the topic. the questions they had, the questions of your own were now piling up as well, and it was too much. you reach for the closest drink, downing it straight with no mixer. the girls share a glance, but wait for you to continue. "so...ha, this is gonna sound super hilarious...!"

jisoo plucks the empty glass from you. "spill."

you struggle to swallow, throat desperately dry while you pour yourself another drink without really even knowing what it is. "remember that guy i told you about? my ex-boyfriend from like, years ago back when i was a bio-med major?"

"the one who broke up with you once you dropped out and left home?" seulgi's mouth upturns. "yeah, i remember wanting to punch him when you told us about it. who the fuck dumps their girlfriend after she gets disowned? he should be carted off a cliff with your used-be family of snakes and a-"

jisoo darts her head around to survey the room. "wait, is he here? oh fuck, did you see him when we came in?"

"no, but i probably will," you gulp down another scathing glass of whatever. it burns, and you like it. "because this is his house."

the pair of them chorus. "what?!"

you raise your glass mockingly, laughing but also slightly on the verge of tears. "yup! see over there? that's where i used to have dinner with his parents and that's where we'd have drinks before brunch," you tap the skinny glass in your hand so it pings. "and these are the fancy glasses that his aunt got his parents as a wedding gift that never ever get used so i'm like, eighty-per-cent sure they're out of town and have no idea about this party right now which is so not like h-

"brunch?" jisoo's face twists in disgust.

"they're rich! that's what rich people do! they have brunch!"

"so all this time the ex-boyfriend you never talked was fucking loaded? and you never thought to tell us?"

"i didn't think it was important," you say honestly.

jisoo stares at you in disbelief. "isn't his dad like an astronaut or something?"

"no, no, an astrophysicist-"

she covers her eyes. "oh my god you fucked the astronaut's kid..."

"right there, actually," you point into the doorway of the spare room down the hall. "we had to be super quiet because either his parents were home or like, cleaners or butlers or one of his mum's business associates," you sigh hard at the memory. "the one time we almost fucked in the coat room, jin said it was immature and unsanitary because all the coats come from outside but it was my birthday so i was really-"

"wait, hold on," seulgi steadies a hand on your shoulder and you notice that your tongue is already feeling fuzzy. "how did you not know this was his place? how did jimin not know? there's no way he would have invited you to your ex-boyfriend's fucking party let alone-"

"his name is jin," you say finally. "seokjin. i doubt jimin even knows his name," you chew your lip nervously. "i haven't been here in so long, and jungkook was driving and... i..."

"right, well," jisoo still looks around out of habit. "you gotta tell us your game plan, pronto. because if you want us to pull you out of here before the bastard sees you and sets you off on an emotional breakdown, we have to go now. what does this jin guy even look like?"

"fuck what he looks like, we're leaving before we find out," seulgi says firmly, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you into the kitchen while jisoo trails behind, already rooting around in your purse in search of your phone to call jimin. there wasn't a lot he could do, but if there was anyone who would know what you'd need in this situation it would be him. it was close to midnight so who knows where he could be by now, or how long it would take to track him down in this mansion. just seeing his face would make you feel better. and as if the universe heard you, the three of you turn the corner to see the only face on earth that could make you feel worse.

"hey," you turn at the familiar voice with seulgi and jisoo following suit, your legs threatening to give out under you. seokjin stands behind you, even more handsome than you remember. every feeling you had, every pent up emotion that had been building from the years of ruminating and overthinking frazzled away into a numbness you couldn't explain. seokjin smiles at you, softly and with kind eyes. "fancy seeing you here."

you try to smile back at him. "you look good, oppa."

jin's smile grows oh-so slightly, giving a polite nods to your shell-shocked friends before leaning close to your ear. "can we talk?"

there are very few people in the back of the garden, which is where jin takes you. the bed of roses are a different colour from what you remember, but the grass is the same. the line of trees at the back, the acorns and perfectly maintained fences. there are solar-powered lights lining the pebbled pathway that you and seokjin walk down, where you used to walk down hand in hand years ago. it's the most romantic place in the house, which was why it had been your favourite. you wonder if he remembered that, if that's why he brought you down here. like a final goodbye.

but no, that was not seokjin's intention. instead, he stares down at his pressed shirt or up at the stars, in deep contemplation. there's something about you now that he can't quite place, something that wasn't there when you were together. a calmness, an inner peace. to him you were still the girl that chased feelings of gratification with her head in a sketchbook, but that girl only lived in his memory now. there was a light in your eyes that he wasn't accustomed to.

"you look good," his voice is soft. "really good, ____. happy i mean."

you smile to yourself, thinking of all the wonderful people in your life. "thank you. i am happy," you pause. "and you? are you happy, seokjin? i hope that you are."

he stares at you, waits for even a grain of insincerity to show up but it doesn't. he rubs the back of his neck, thoughtful. "you're still so kind. so good inside. how did you keep that?"

"um, well," you shrug. "if you want me to be a bitch, i can do that too."

he laughs, his teeth shiny and perfect as always. "that'd be easier. but that's not you," he can't stop looking at you, and it's just as impossible to read him now as it was back then. he takes a while to mull over your question, finding it harder to be honest with himself than with you. "i'm not sure if i'm happy. honestly? every time i get close to it i think about what i did to you and..."

you look down. "you don't...we don't have to talk about that."

"ya, are you kidding?" he stops in the path to stare at you. "of course we do." you forgot how tall jin was. his hair is styled differently, away from his forehead so more of his pretty face is on show. he looks so much like his mother. you were never really angry at seokjin for leaving you, just disappointed. and he knew that, which is why he couldn't just let you leave his house without freeing himself of this agonising guilt. "i'm sorry, _____. what i did...it was horrible and wrong and heartless, and i think about it all the time. how much i know it hurt you, how alone you must have felt-"

"i wasn't alone," you stand up straighter at the thought of jimin.

"no i know, i just," seokjin sighs, not used to all this. "i shouldn't have broken up with you. at least, when i did. it was too much for you to handle and-"

"i mean, clearly it wasn't," you fold your arms. "otherwise i wouldn't be standing here, happier than ever. you said it yourself."

and there it is, the thing you had been dreading the second you stepped foot in this house. that look on seokjin's face, his lips together and his eyes regarding you carefully: pity. seokjin pitied you, even though he tried hard to hide it and even though you tried hard to avoid it from happening. it always ended up here, him looking at you like a basket case and you trying to hold back the tears of fury and fear and hurt. "i hear you're close with jeon jungkook now."

you scoff in disbelief. "are you serious? are you fucking serious?" he doesn't respond, because jin never did approve of your swearing. which makes you swear more. "you are fucking off on one if you think i'm going to talk to you about him of all things, jin-"

"you're smarter than that, ____," seokjin steps closer to you, his warm hand resting on your arm. "no one else can say that about you-"

"excuse me?"

"-but i can. because i know you," he finishes, skin perfect under the moonlight. "and you're way too smart for a guy like him."

you pluck his hand from your arm and for the first time you don't feel the need to explain yourself. you don't feel the need to cry or fight your case or claw desperately for a glimmer of approval or even acceptance. you look at seokjin's face, studying it for the last time. maybe if you tried harder you could have been good enough for jin, but you don't want to find out anymore. "please understand that you don't know me. you never did. goodnight, seokjin."

"and where the fuck have you been?" jungkook whirls his head around to seulgi and jisoo, stomping into the spare room. "we're gonna have to put a tracker on you one of these days, jungkookie."

"what's wrong?" he says, already cowering away in case seulgi goes for his ear again.

instead she grabs his chin and turns his head to the window while jisoo points to the garden outside. "that."

and sure enough, there you were. standing down the end of pretty garden path talking to a guy in obnoxiously expensive armani amidst porch lights looking like something out of a romance novel. jungkook doesn't feel anything but the overwhelming desire to turn away, which is what he does before taking another swing of beer. "what about it?"

"that's ____," jisoo continues to point. "talking to seokjin, her ex-boyfriend."

"ex-boyfriend?"

"yeah well," seulgi leans against the window pane with folded arms. "don't look so glum, she didn't tell us until like, a year into living together. she never talked about him because he like, broke her heart beyond repair or whatever," seulgi glances at jungkook. "he dumped her after her folks sent her packing, told her the only reason why they were together was because their parents got along at work and bla bla bla so when she decided to go after creative arts, they had nothing in common anymore. so he dropped her. it was right before ____ met jimin. apparently she was a total wreck."

jungkook sits back, takes his time finishing his beer. it definitely made sense, the way you always skated around the topic of past relationships even during pillow talk. he had just assumed that you wanted to keep all that stuff separate from him, which was probably part of the reason too. still, if what seulgi and jisoo were saying was true, it would mean that his rough-and-tumble self would be the perfect rebound in comparison to prim and proper kim seokjin. the kind of thing that good girls like you get off on. but it's not like jungkook has any right to point fingers, everyone had their pasts. so all he does is burp and open another can of drink after saying, "yikes."

"yikes?" jisoo pokes him. "that's all you have to say? yikes?"

he looks uninterested. "what else do you want me to say?"

"oh i don't know, that maybe you care? or that you'll at least beat him up or something, jungkook-style?"

"she'll be fine," jungkook wets his lips, suddenly desperate for a cigarette. "she has my watch."

you thought that after stumbling into the house and pouring yourself a couple of drinks you would feel better. better as in, numb from everything and pliant enough to be strapped into the backseat of jimin's car or some uber and taken home in one piece within the hour. but that's not how you feel at all. if anything, the talk with seokjin invigorated you beyond reason. suddenly, in the haze of the night and your life and the fucking whirlwind that had been the past few years, everything seemed a lot clearer. you didn't know what was going to happen or where you were gonna end up but you knew what you wanted.

who you wanted.

it takes you a while to track down jungkook, even though it was well into the night and some people had already left, the house was still relatively full. jungkook isn't alone when he sees you teeter into the room. he looks around briefly for seulgi or jisoo or anyone to grab you so he wouldn't have to. jungkook wasn't good at the whole comforting thing, crying girls talking about their dickhead ex-boyfriends not at all part of his skill set. he worked much better a week from now when girls are ready for angry, revenge sex. but then he sees the way you approach him, his watch hanging like a stamp of ownership on your wrist, and jungkook can't take his eyes off you.

"baby?" he coos softly when you sit next to him, no longer paying his friends any attention on the other side of the sofa. half the people in this room were either wasted or high or both, or at least that's what jungkook tells himself when you curl into him, pawing at side. you're not nearly as drunk as you look. nor are you crying, or seething or like anything he's ever seen. the pure lust in your eyes is so palpable he almost feels uncomfortable with other people that aren't him witnessing it.

you kiss the mole under his mouth, soft, chaste. "now?"

"what?" he blinks, surprised at himself for not pulling away from you. that's when jungkook feels your hand on his thigh, palm rubbing further and further inwards. you couldn't have noticed anyone else in the room if you tried. you, the girl who squirms every time he kisses you in private. there was no one else on the planet you could have wanted over than him, and jungkook knew in that second if he didn't leave with you now you'd sit on his lap there and then. and he'd let you.

"please," you stare at his lips, your skin buzzing under his gentle touch while he moves your hair aside. "now. i want you now, jungkook. i don't want anyone else."

"okay," he murmurs, taking your chin and kissing you hard. you're so eager for him you open your mouth almost instantly, jungkook's entire body heating up like wildfire from it. jimin, hoseok, kim fucking seok-whatever, none of it mattered. jungkook doesn't care about the way his friends jeer when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, doesn't care about all the people that are probably looking at him right now. he forcibly pulls himself away, taking you by the hand and lifting you up from the low couch. "okay."

he thought getting you to his truck would be easy enough, but easy is the last thing you are tonight. you kiss him in the hallway, on the stairs. you kiss jungkook's neck and jaw and behind his ear, anywhere you can reach. he's never seen you so wild for him, so relentless and sure of yourself. his resolve shatters when he tries to placate you with a kiss, holding your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger when he pulls away only for you to tilt your head and take his thumb into your mouth. he groans at the sight, the feeling, the act alone, the way you stare up at him with your big beautiful eyes. you were not leaving this house without having had his cock in you first.

"you're so difficult," he gasps, irritated and painfully horny as he pulls you into the nearest room he can find. it's a bit smaller than the others, and judging by the piles of hangers in the corner and the very modest little desk it appeared to be a coatroom. right next to the main room and the door closest to the top of the hallway, there really wasn't a more high profile place to fuck in but it was empty so that was enough. jungkook uses every last bit of sense he has to turn the lock while simultaneously trying to remain calm under your wandering hands, squeezing and rubbing every part of him you could.

"sorry," you say between pants, letting jungkook twist you with your back to the door while he kisses you harshly. and you genuinely are sorry. it's not at all like you to make a scene like this but you just couldn't wait. it had to be here and it had to be now and it had to be jungkook. he has your wrists pinned either side of you as if punishment for all your groping, his hips pinning yours still as well. you can feel his bulge against you, the heat of his palms against your veins. jungkook nips at your lip, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, before he's leaning back in for more.

you moan in euphoria when he lets go of your wrists to grab your waist, his teeth against the most sensitive part of your neck. his lips stay attached there as he pulls you to the little clerk table, easily lifting you onto it's edge while he unzips the back of your dress. but it's slightly fitted, and you'd rather die than waste a few precious minutes taking it off. so you give jungkook a long, pleading kiss before turning with your back to his chest, bending yourself over the lip of the table. "fuck me like this."

he groans, because he prefers to look at your face during the act, but he also knows what you're like when you want him from behind. greedy and insatiable. but you're being so good for him, rubbing your ass into his crotch as if to ask for permission. like he could never deny you. so jungkook takes you by the waist, pushing your hair to one side so he can fold his lips over your neck permanently. he slips his hands underneath the skirt of your dress, shaky fingers feeling for the band of your panties before sliding them down. he leaves them above your knees but you won't have it, kicking them off completely to stand with your knees further apart while you arch forward for him. jungkook's chest is heaving when he scoops the garment off the floor, stuffing it into his back pocket for safe keeping.

"please please please," you chant, bending over as far as the table will allow, arching yourself as much as your spine permits.

jungkook swears loudly when he touches you. you've never been this wet before, so swollen and fucking ready for him. your copious amount of slick coats the back of your ass and thighs, staining the front of his now-untucked shirt and pants too. he knows that you're good and wet but jungkook can't help himself from slipping his fingers inside you, two quickly and easily becoming three. your cry is guttural he almost wonders if it's you. he barely has to move, only gently spreading his fingers before you're practically crying for more. if he lifts your skirt up, he can see how easily the digits disappear inside you. he's so hard it hurts.

"please, kook-ah," you're on the verge of tears, face crumpled and eyes watering while bucking back against his hand. "jungkook, i can't...i can't wait. please."

"shh, okay," he hushes you gently, kissing up the side of your neck. it's agony for both of you when he withdraws his fingers, but thankfully jungkook is nimble with his belt buckle and jeans, shoving his cock against your wetness before he can think straight. the sensation makes the pair of you writhe, and it's only when he looks down to see his bare cock rubbing through your slit does he jump back with alarm. "baby, fuck i...i don't have..."

"it's okay," you say it so quickly his head spins. you push back, seeking contact, coaxing him. "i want to feel you anyway."

"but," he stammers, sweating so much his hair is starting to dampen on his forehead. jungkook refused to fuck unprotected. it was against his self-imposed rule, the only one that was still standing when it came to you, but all he could think about was how badly he wanted to be inside you and how badly you wanted the same thing. he had never, ever fucked raw before and it felt like a decision that shouldn't be made haphazardly in a coatroom with you bent over in front of him.

"kookie," you snap him out of his trance by turning over your shoulder uncomfortably to kiss him, gently and with care to remind him who he's with. remind him that you're not going anywhere. his lips are so soft, so pliant for you. jungkook leans his forehead against your hair and groans when he realises that his cock has navigated itself back to the opening of your pussy, as if making the decision for him. "i don't want anyone else's cum in me. only yours."

"fuck, you're killing me," jungkook whines, leaning into you with defeat. he breathes you in, the smell of your shampoo and perfume, feels you ground him with your hand laying over his that is currently holding you at the waist.

it's like you take that step forward together, the gentle push of jungkook's bare tip inside you. you practically vibrate with desire, jungkook's teeth sinking into your exposed shoulder as he wills himself to stay in the moment. slowly, slowly he slides in until he's sheathed inside your silken walls, hot and tight and more perfect than he could have ever dreamed. jungkook's legs shake with the intensity of pleasure, his hold on you the only thing keeping him up. you're a mess in front of him, chest heaving and ass digging back into him in a desperate attempt to get him to move, all the while whining pathetically. so jungkook draws out, shoves his cock back in roughly so you don't expect it. the feeling is visceral, the pleasure unbearable. jungkook fucks you hard, nice and deep which is why you favoured this position. every thrust is stronger than the one before it, his balls slapping into your clit in a ricochet of pleasure. his rhythm is perfect, his cock, his angle, everything. the old table knocks against the wall with every passing minute, some coats slipping from their hangers from the way it vibrates through the little room.

jungkook flips your skirt up, the carnal desire to watch himself disappear into your pussy unlike anything he's ever felt. for once, you cannot silence your moans, no pillows or comforters to muffle the sounds. people are filing out of the house just outside the door, saying their goodbyes or maybe trying to find an empty room too. with the rhythmic banging and your unabashed cries of pleasure, there was no doubt everyone knew. an idea that would usually be lost on jungkook exhilarates him now. they all saw who you came in here with, who's fingers you had in your mouth. his thrusts unconsciously become rougher, your ass slapping wetly into his stomach with every stroke of his cock. it's more than enough to undo you, the gush of wetness from you coupled with your erotic mewls of pleasure causing jungkook's hips to stutter with excitement. he's so focused on fucking into you that the helpful thrust of your ass catches him by surprise, his vision going blurry as his orgasm begins to wash over him. although dripping with sweat, jungkook fucks himself through his climax as hard as he can manage, spilling into you with a low groan of bliss that's so loud he surprises himself. he can hear you hum in encouragement, your eyes closing happily at the feeling of his hot seed filling you. it's more than normal, causing jungkook to hiss at the sheer visual. cum was dribbling down your inner thigh, the squelch of it making you moan all over again. when his cock slips out, a rush of his cum follows, causing the pair of you to swear from the unexpected enjoyment of it all. sweat drips down jungkook's temple, his mouth dry as stares at your messy pussy while his fingers automatically start shovelling his cream back inside you. the sensation makes only ignites your second wave of pleasure even further, your ass arching for him all over again.

"i think i died," jungkook admits quietly, fingers still covered in the evidence of your coupling when you turn to kiss him with a smile. "that was so good, i think i. i think i fucking clocked out..."

"well clock back in," you say between deep breaths, fixing your skirt back down and smoothing out jungkook's shirt while he tucks his sticky self back into his pants. "because you have to drive us home and then keep doing that to me all night. okay?"

all jungkook can do is nod happily.

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