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antigonick · 5 years ago

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Charge.

CONTEXT : I’m not saying 90% of my life is spent babbling about Fallen Hero but you really should check it out. DISCLAIMER : Not much is mine except for a few shot-in-the-dark head-canons, and everything else belongs to Malin Rydén. WHAT TO EXPECT : Erratic punctuation & coarse language. Mild spoilers. Everybody is halfwitted and loves thinking in italics. Also, I was going to be a cool cat and limit myself to a little bit of fighting, a little bit of thinking, but then BAM this got chargestepped and sappy and out of hands real fast. I have no excuse.

2010.

First the fist collides with your jaw then you grin.

Duck turn kick (miss) kick (hit) and shift. Shark skin is rough like sandpaper and wet and unyielding, but you track the soft and the weak: eyes squinting in the heat and the supple maw you might be able to break and the snout curved like an arrowhead and that human body, ready to bleed, ready to sizzle, following you between the cars. High up, the press is circling vulture-like; from your little dotted audience you feel the smiles and the gasps and the screams and the sighs skittering in your veins like water boiling.

It’s been going on a while and you’re hot (more than usual, that is), you ache, the taste of blood goes straight to your head. Shit that’s good. Tap hiss tap dance your heels on the asphalt and in the huge windows of the building from the corner of your eye you can see you. Behind the sweltering quivering heat of summer. Facing the ugly misshapen silhouette of Sharkinator.

You. You in cobalt blue.

You, turn duck kick (hit) slide punch (miss) run! stop dodge laugh.

‘Come on, Jaws, show some teeth!’ you taunt and won’t that make a great headline?

In the glass windows the waltz is dizzying, you spy; and Sharkinator snaps at you and you keep eyeing those gills that slice his huge head where it meets his shoulders; because why are they here, because it’s not like they’re any use, it’s not like he’s breathing underwater, so what does he do with those, and you think, what if, what if I spark these up a little?

The fish-man is stewing, whack tap and thump goes his knee against your stomach, a strangled chuckle (from you) and a snarl (from him):

’Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Marshal!’

Uh-oh, nice, so we’re really doing this, hm, we’re going for teeth puns? But you can’t hear your own laughter—you keep eyeing those gills—because the crackling breaks and swells in your ears—you flex your fingers (already itching) (what if, what if I spark these up a little?) and you’re ready when he lunges—parry spin and

CONNECT.

You’re not ready, though. For what happens next.

You’re not ready for the water.

You don’t get it, you don’t see it, you can’t see it, you don’t think that’s even possible, what in the actual fuck? Fine, fine, keep moving, can’t stop won’t stop, no, wait, it floods you like a dirty leak floods a crumbling basement; cold and murky and popping until something cracks, something breaks, something short-circuits in your head (are your eyes closed?) or in your back and you would laugh, you would, but there’s a moment there when you can’t feel your legs and the whiplash is enough to make you gag in sheer fucking horror.

Though you don’t. You don’t know where you are. Your head is swimming. (Get it? Swimming?)

Fall (on your knees) groan moan

(Is it crackling and bubbling you hear?)

dodge roll (yes) exhale and stand up stanD UP STAND—

‘—UP, STAND UP you fucking idiot!’

‘What… Una?’

‘Sure, yeah, say my name in public why don’t you, and next time maybe tag my phone number on a building while you’re at it?’

‘I mean, I don’t have your…’

‘Shut up and move!’

You glimpse the prone writhing body of Sharkinator but she’s going fast and the sirens howl and with an arm across her shoulders you turn, veer, ugh, you hit a wall or four, stumble, huff, and under your weight she’s seething; you can hear her sharp little muffled voice through the crepitating haze, you just couldn’t wait to show-off you absolute dumbass, you just couldn’t, ready to fry right there on the sidewalk, I can’t believe this shit and also do you think my life-purpose is to save your ass?

It’s a fine ass, you want to say, but your lips feel numb and your shoulder hits the fire escape with a clang (where are you?) and the glare of the day is needling at your brain so you let your head fall a little, on her smooth masked head, just a second, Una, can’t stop won’t stop you know me, just a second and then we—

‘Oh fuck no Ricardo, don’t you dare—’

You definitely dared.

You wake up propped against the brown backrest of your own sofa, eyelids orange, yellow, white, and burning. You can feel her, gloves off, fiddling with your ports. The almost silence, just her breathing and the clinking of metal against metal, a screwdriver? Then, the tentative stirring humming of power under your flesh. The golden smell of coffee somewhere, somewhere close. You flex your hand and she slaps it impatiently, sighs, moves (creak) and comes back. Suddenly there’s a soft, damp, cool cloth against your cheek, hmmm, yes, though—wait—

‘What the hell?!’ you recoil up the backrest, face stinging, ‘is that bleach?’

‘Boo-hoo, don’t be such a baby, you’re too old for that,’ she tosses the soaked towel on the armrest (that’ll stain), smirking her bunny teeth smirk with a glee that’s nothing short of vicious.

Mask rolled up to the tip of her nose, she flops down on the coffee table one knee up and closes her small white hand scarred and rough around your smiling winking face—well, not yours, but the one printed on the Charge™ mug.

‘You’re merciless.’

‘Narcissistic much?’ she comments, tipping the mug.

Here you are, lovingly painted, with tapered waist and rich blue suit and stylised thunderbolts around your head like some kind of storm-born saint.

‘It was… a gift.’

‘From yourself to yourself? I don’t care, I’m keeping it.’

‘Want to build a little Ricardo altar in your room?’

‘I will throttle you in your sleep.’

‘Please don’t wait for me to sleep.’

She might win at elbowing you in the face, but she can’t win at banter, so she snorts and huffs and shrugs, then walks away. You hear her swear low in the kitchen. You wonder if she blushes; her suit comes up to her chin and the mask comes down to her nose and the large turquoise ovals hide her eyes but she has freckles on her hands and a pale mouth that speak of light hair and sunburns. Not that it matters, but the suspense is killing you, right? It’s been killing you for years and it itches like a scab, this not-knowing, this not-seeing, this inch-by-inch, this one wall you can’t skirt jump wreck.

The cold bottle of beer falls in your lap and she sits back on her chipmunk perch one knee up. She snaps her fingers at you.

‘Just put the towel on your face, idiot, you’re still bleeding.’

You open the bottle and the cold brew hits your throat just right, bubbles and fresh bitterness like a jolt to the mind. You still feel hazy and lukewarm, you need hot-wiring.

‘That’s not how human medical care works, you know.’

You think she glares, can’t be sure with those turquoise fly eyes, but she gives you the finger too so there’s a fair chance.

‘Fine, yeah, but also, I’m not your fucking nurse.’

‘You are merciless.’

‘I am. And heartless. That’s my secret. That’s why I keep the mask on.’

‘Robot?’

‘Android. Come to wreak havoc on humanity and take the Rangers out, one by one,’ she deadpans.

Is she fucking with you?

Of course—still, your heart throbs in delight and your blood bubbles and something drops low in your stomach like jumping from a cliff (no no no don’t think about that) and you can see it in your mind, Una, teeth bared, knuckles white, eyes afire (blue eyes brown eyes grey eyes?), the scheming first, then the bite, the kill; she’s got the guts and the moves and the rabid wrathful kick. She could do it. Well: she could try.

You can, you can see it, the bite the kill—the kiss of death.

Better not say that crap in front of Chen. He already thinks she’s a double-agent on the loose and you have to weave in and out of this conversation like an eel, laughing brightly, saying come on, come on man, she’s too soft, you’ve seen her coo at dogs when she thinks nobody’s looking.

You swallow the beer and throw her a brilliant smile and lean all the way, arm outstretched to the fruit basket behind her but she thinks you’re—oh—she slides to the side with a sharp jerk; innocently you grab an apricot though you almost laugh when she hisses.

‘Oh yes, the remake would be legendary,’ you purr, mostly to see if she’ll rip your eyes out. ‘You. Me. Los Diablos 2019. I can see it. Babe Runner.’

‘I can’t believe someone made you Marshal. Who the fuck did you bribe?’

‘Don’t be mean, you’re the babe in this scenario.’

You sink into the sofa, stretched out and muscles sore, and when you bite into the apricot with a smile the flesh splits on your tongue like a burst of sunlight.

She stares.

She gets up.

She rolls down her mask.

She does blush, doesn’t she?

Looks like you’ve won this round.

‘I’m leaving and you should get some sleep,’ she snaps cradling that mug empty of coffee and full of you. Her mouth is set and her gait is harsh despite your chuckle, but when she walks close there’s a second, a second soft and warm when her naked fingers skim your forehead petal-like but you’re an idiot so you reach to grasp her hand and she punishes you by smacking your head instead.

2021.

First the static sizzles against your eardrum and then you grin.

‘You’re in,’ says Deadeye and nothing else since.

The place’s been on your list for years, but this time it’s going to work, this time you’ve put a wire in its gut, this time you’ve heard it plainly from Manolo himself—she wants to meet them at the Cellar Bar. Hollow Ground. A face for the systemic chaos.

It’s been days but every time you tune in you get this shiver this quiver the urge to pace the urge to laugh the urge to dance no that’s not it—the urge to strike. You’ve turned off your own microphone so that you can tap tap tap throw the ball against the wall, twack whoosh open the beer bottle, click click click shake the painkiller box, crack hmm make your back pop. Better to keep your distance anyway, technology doesn’t like you much. You turn and turn in the little room, you open the dirty glass door and you crouch on the rickety balcony with the long-ranging binoculars, you fiddle and check the monitor and throw your hearing as far as it can go, which is much further than it once could, strain and strain and you write down the names, the places, you hedge your bets, you come at night, you doze and bite your arm, you sigh and stretch and skip, pins and needles under your skin and ants swarming inside your skull, and then

Then, one day.

You catch it.

‘They’ll be here tomorrow night, her and Nocturne. Make sure everything is ready. Dampeners on.’

‘Seriously? Candlelit dinner with a telepath? Didn’t even know those were still a thing.’

Fuck yes fuck yes. You throw the ball hard against the stone floor and watch the current twitching between your fingers nervous and restless like your brain. You wait a while. You need sleep, you need gear, you dig the heels of your crackling hands against your eyelids and the pain simmers low like a headache. Shit that’s good.

Turn on your heel grab your bag breathe in get out.

Parkfield at night is full of scumbags with impeccable taste in shirts and suits, and if you ever get your fists on one you’ll have to ask them for their tailor’s number. You can’t compete today, wearing a hoodie stolen from Chen, but still you glimpse you in the shop windows, shoulders stooped, hands hidden, head hung low, and you smirk slow in the shadows. Tonight you see her. Tonight you see Hollow Ground. Tonight the veil falls the light comes the hunt starts or—whatever else they say when an epiphany hits you in the face with a baseball bat.

You press your index to your ear and stop not far from the Cellar Bar, too close for comfort, close enough to get that small delighted shudder of adrenaline along your spine. And then you wait.

You’ve gotten better at that.

Wait listen track.

Grind your teeth shut your mouth bide your time.

You get your money's worth tonight: wait listen track and

hold your breath—hold… hold… hold on.

The voice you hear buries itself in that soft place beneath your ribs where a blade comes to kill.

‘I'm here for a meeting. I was told to wait at the downstairs bar,’ says the sharp little unmuffled voice.

Really you shouldn’t you shouldn’t be surprised but fuck, tonight? and all the same your blood rushes and pounds and you catch your gasp right before it burns your mouth and sssssssss hums a tremor from your bones to your flesh.

To Deadeye, but in your ear, Una asks:

’Aren’t you coming?’

You almost laugh. Dirty talking on the job now, are we?

Tempting really, but first you have to checkmate that filthy little liar and also, fuck, make sure she doesn’t get herself killed, and also, fuck again, make sure she doesn’t get herself hollow-grounded, and also, fuck! Shit, shit, shit. What the hell are you doing? What the hell is she doing? Where the fuck are you going? You sizzling crackling flashing and the audio goes dead and your mind races and splits like lightning.

Can’t wait can’t stop won’t stop.

It takes everything you have not to break into a run, but then again you couldn’t get inside even if you wanted to, and you tell yourself, she knows what she’s doing, you’ve seen it, Chen’s seen it, you’ve exchanged glances—the querulous stance, the fading bruises, the hard muscle under those ridiculous layers. Seen it felt it.

You find the grimy back alley and you grit your teeth. The one-way back door is condemned by a huge dumpster. You raise your gaze to the darkened windows, to the flickering streets and all those strangers who couldn’t care less about what you’re doing, hidden that you are by hood and night. Fuck this. Turn rush push. The dumpster whines on its wheels but yields to your hand and releases the door (just in case) and you dance back as fast as you’ve come; turn the corner, and now torture, walk the street once, twice, thrice, tap tap taping your fingers against your thigh.

Two hours days centuries minutes.

Two three four ten twenty.

You walk further and further to cover you tracks. In the shadows you lay your forehead against a coarse wall for a second. Twist, go back. Weave through the streets. Could use a drink, could use a jump, could use a fall. Could use a fight. Could fight Una. You think of that mask all those years ago, that mask rolled to the tip of her nose, and the grave (shit no), and all the masks that came and went, and all the masks that you both still have to peel off, you think of that mirror helmet of… hers? Of course it’s hers. Well, at least you can see yourself in it, and she knows how much you like that.

Suddenly you jolt and you hear, you hear it: the running steps, the scrape of the metal back door, the low swearing, the faraway shouts and the racing on the asphalt and then she hits you square in the chest like the bullet she is.

You exhale a groan and steady her with a hand but she jerks away and she’s ready to split but then her eyes register you and for a second you see it like you saw it in that coffeeshop when she came back from the dead, the deer in the headlights, the panic flaring, the dark twist of her mouth ready to bite.

So what can you do? Smile, sigh. Laugh.

‘Fancy seeing you here, lover.’

She’s breathing fast and blinks, fists clenched. She must be really upset, ‘cause you wouldn’t have survived that nickname otherwise. You take her in; the hair mussed, the throat working, the shitty flannel shirt on a large t-shirt. Did she meet and greet the queen of down below dressed like a depressed teenager? Fuck she’s an idiot and irresistible. She’s on the balls of her feet and she’ll punch you soon but you see the soft and the weak, her arm slightly bent, her cut lip, the surprise that you could use to take her out. Then suddenly she barks (attack first think later):

‘I’m working, Ricardo. Are you following me?’

Is she? Is she working? Working for the bane of your damn existence? Tonight the teasing doesn’t flow easy.

‘Working. You’re working.’

‘Working, yeah.’

She’s fucking with you but that’s only fair; after all, you are fucking with her.

‘Shit,’ you say, duly concerned. ‘That boss of yours is running you into the ground.’

She pauses, eyes fixed on yours, warm and dark and wavering. She’s not gonna fall for it. She’s not. She oh, she is. Sharply she turns her head and she sinks all at once, hook and sinker she swallows the lie, ravenous ravenous for half-truths she is.

‘Yeah, she’s a jerk. Listen, I have to go.’

‘Aren’t you going to slap me goodbye?’

‘You’re as disturbed as you are ridiculous.’

‘Whatever you want me to be,’ you tease, but your heart is in your throat.

She snorts and sidesteps you (get it?), ready to disappear, but when she walks close there’s a second, a second soft and warm when your thumb comes and wipes the blood off her mouth, and she’s an idiot so she reaches to grasp your hand and rewards you by kissing your palm instead.

#AS PROMISED #fallen hero #charge #about fallen hero #notebooks #can't re-read this or I will curse myself for the Romance of it all

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

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You’ve Got Mail: Jungkook One Shot

Request: Hi! I really love your writings! If your requests are still open, can you pls write a Jungkook story? Ex-lovers in high school where he broke up with her because he got bored or something like that. Then they met again in university and wants her back again. (Angst but happy ending pls). Thank you!

Description: After a messy breakup with high school heartthrob Jeon Jungkook, you swore off dating once you got into college. Even though it left you lonely, it was easier than being hurt. But one fateful blind date changes everything for you, and you realize that maybe isolation isn’t the answer either.

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, Non-Idol!Au, Ex-Lovers to Enemies to Lovers (? I guess? Haha)

Genre: Whole lotta angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: None!

A/N: It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted wtf!! But I’m back and less than a week away from the Rose Bowl concert, holy cow. This ask has been in my inbox for MONTHS, so I need to say thank you to the anon who sent it for waiting so long! I really enjoyed this request, so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/plzpunchmebts. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be posting concert videos and pics there, so please give it a follow if you’d like to see that!

- Mercury

You were never too keen on blind dates. Everything about them felt…artificial. It wasn’t that you were a romantic, not especially, but you had to admit that being forced on a date by meddlesome friends took some of the magic out of dating. When Sua had mentioned a cute new boy in her class who was too busy studying to date, you had to admit the red flags began waving in your mind. Of course, you could relate. College was taxing and it was difficult to find time to even eat three meals, let alone date. Perhaps if things had cropped up organically, you’d have been more excited. But the forced union was a little cumbersome.

The nerves and the insecurity and the fear, none of it was especially fun. But Sua had been adamant that the two of you would hit it off, and with her eyes round and expectant, her brows raised, and her lips pouted, you really didn’t have any room to deny her. You figured one night of discomfort was better than months of guilt, and even though you figured things wouldn’t work out with this mystery man, you’d humor your friend. After all, making friends in college wasn’t easy.

Making friends in general wasn’t easy.

You sighed as you waited with your chilly hands clasped around your phone, standing at the entrance to the subway station where Sua had instructed. The mouth of the entrance was muggy with exiting passengers as the wave of people clambered up the steep stairs and onto the street, lined on all sides by buildings that reached the sky. Every now and again, someone would graze their shoulder against yours without apology, or perhaps step on the toe of your sneaker. You took a few inching steps backward, glancing over your shoulder to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone. Not that they’d care. You backed up until you were out of the streamline and instead took up a quieter spot beside a fish cake vendor.

You checked your phone once again, furrowing your brow. Sue said eleven, didn’t she? You pulled up your messages and scrolled through carefully, head tilted to the side as you read her most recent text.

Sua: He said he’s running a little late, but he told me to tell you to wait.

You: I am waiting…

Sua: He says he’s sorry and that the subway is close to the terminal now.

You: That’s good.

Sua: He says sorry again.

Sua: You know, this is kinda dumb. Let me just give you his number so you can text him.

Sua: 51-XXX-XX24

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest. Sua was right, anyway. Making her your proxy wouldn’t really do you much good, considering she wasn’t here to help you in person. But wouldn’t it be a bit forward to just…text this guy? You didn’t know him yet. And besides, what could you say that Sua hadn’t? Hey, I’m doing this out of obligation, sorry to disappoint! or you can just go back home now and we can tell Sua things didn’t work out. You shook your head and rubbed your fingertip along the screen of your phone, working your lower lip between your teeth. You were just looking for an out. And really, you didn’t want to bail after Sua had gone through the trouble of setting things up. Still, just texting a stranger was a little…

But then again, he’d agreed to the blind date too, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like you were someone he was forced to talk to. He’d come on his own accord. Rubbing your bare forearm in the spring breeze with one hand, you used the other to tap the phone number and save it and, with only your index finger, drafted a slow message.

You: Hey, I’m Sua’s friend. I think we’re supposed to have a blind date today? Haha. That sounded kind of awkward…

Within seconds, your phone dinged with an incoming text and you jumped, nervous, before glancing at your phone once more.

Blind Date: Oh! Haha, hello. It wasn’t awkward at all. Ahh, I’m really sorry I’m late. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into a cyclist and he gave me an earful so I missed the first subway.

Blind Date: But I’m one stop away! You’re outside exit 2 right?

You: Yeah! I’m next to a fish cake stall. I’m wearing a red blouse, so you can’t miss me :-)

Damn, you thought, was that smiley face too much? You picked at the skin around your nail and glanced up to see the near-constant flow of people was still in full force, the subway exit spitting pedestrians onto the cement sidewalk in droves. You squinted a little, trying to keep a good visual on the staircase leading out. With a sigh, you leaned over your bag to slip your phone inside when it buzzed again. Despite yourself, your heart raced and you eagerly unlocked it to see if he’d responded.

Blind Date: Cute! Let’s get some fish cakes then before we go to the movie.

Blind Date: Ah, subway just pulled in! I’m only a few sweaty staircases away now~

Blind Date: :P

Without meaning to, you smiled a little. Your nerves settled as you leaned on your right foot, grinning softly at your screen. He seemed like a good guy, at least. You were relieved. After the jerks you dated in high school, you’d sworn off dating for a while. Maybe trying to cleanse your palate. It was…oddly refreshing to be talking to someone who didn’t make you feel like you weren’t all that important. Like you were disposable.

Still smiling, you responded with a simple text.

You: I’m excited to meet you :-D

“Y/N?” asked a familiar voice from beside you.

A voice that sent chills up your spine, and not the good kind.

You stiffened and turned, eyes wide, toward the one person you’d been hoping fervently to avoid for life. Standing with his big, brown eyes wide and his hair slightly windswept, Jeon Jungkook stared down at you like you were a ghost. Your lips parted and, heart hammering, you opened and closed your jaw a few times. What were you supposed to say to the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen?

Years later and he was still the heartthrob he’d been back then, only now he looked…like a man. His cheekbones were prominent, strong jaw, heavy brow and a serious, toned build like he’d lived at the gym in the years between your meetings.

You swallowed hard and slipped your phone in your bag, crossing your arms and thus closing yourself to him. You glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. “Jungkook,” you said with a sigh. “I’m actually waiting here for someone and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, so if you could-,”

“You’re on a blind date?” asked Jungkook, lips agape.

You shrugged, glancing down the sidewalk toward the open maw of the subway exit, squinting in the hopes of catching your date’s attention. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Wait, but-,”

You sighed and shut him up with a single look his way, sharp, venomous. “I’m gonna to wait someplace else if you’re gonna keep standing beside me.”

“No, it’s not-,”

You huffed and shuffled into the crowd once more, walking purposefully away from him, but Jungkook was hot on your tail and wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Every few paces, you’d glance over your shoulder and see him following you feverishly, angling himself through the narrow spaces between bodies. But you kept going, pushing through, until you were blocks away from the subway station and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You exhaled long and slow, patting your chest to calm down, and veered off toward the shops on your right, taking cover beneath an awning. Something in your bag vibrated and you jumped. Shit. Your date. The spring day sun was warm on your hands as you fumbled with your bag, grabbing your phone once again.

Blind Date: Where did you go??

You gripped your nose bridge and exhaled through your nose. Of course he’d be confused. You were lucky he was nice enough to reach out at all after seeing you weren’t where you said you’d be. You typed your reply quickly, desperate not to hurt his feelings.

You: God, I’m SO sorry. I ran into someone…from a long time ago lol. I couldn’t shake him off, so I ended up down the street a few blocks. By a Burger King.

You: I’m making a really bad impression, huh? I’m sorry. Just…he’s the LAST person I wanted to see today, you know?

You: Or…well, ever haha.

You awaited a response with bated breath, brows knit, and chewed on the inside of your cheek. This blind date was a wild card, really. Since you didn’t know him yet, you didn’t know how he’d respond. And it wouldn’t be his fault if he decided you weren’t worth all the hassle. Honestly, you might’ve been a little relieved if that was the case. Running into Jungkook…it made you remember why you avoided dating.

But despite your expectations, your phone buzzed again and you jumped to grab it.

Blind Date: This person…you really didn’t want to see him?

You: No. It’s just a painful reminder of the past.

You: !!! God, I keep saying awkward things !!! Haha, please forget I said anything. Where are you?

Blind Date: No! It’s not awkward at all. I’m just…

Blind Date: I’m sorry you had to see him then, I guess.

You: Jeez…

You: You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?

Blind Date: Haha! I don’t know about that…

Blind Date: How about we reschedule for another time? I get the feeling you wouldn’t really be up for a movie right now anyway.

You panicked, heart kicking up. Despite everything you told yourself, you were a little bit happy he was being so understanding. And even though you were scared, you wanted to see if…well…if maybe this guy might be different.

You shook your head. Of course you shouldn’t think that way. Putting your heart out there to be toyed with and thrown aside…you didn’t want to go through it. Not really. And what relationship could be worth all that? You sucked in your breath and typed a quick response, ready to cast Jungkook and this blind date into the banks of your memory to gather dust. Even if this guy did seem sweet…

So had Jungkook, at first.

You: Yeah. That’s probably for the best. I work at that coffeeshop on campus, so I’ll shoot you a text once I get my schedule. :-)

You: I’m sorry for all the trouble today. Seriously.

You sighed and turned on your heel toward the street. If you kept on this sidewalk for a few more blocks, you’d find exit 3. And from there, it was only a 20-minute subway ride home whereupon you could finally collapse on your couch and wait for this cursed weekend to be over.

But before you could take a single step, a text came.

Blind Date: It was no trouble. :D I just feel bad that you had an unpleasant experience…

You: Hey, it’s not your fault haha.

You: Oh yeah! I never gave you my name, did I?

Blind Date: No, actually. Haha.

You: It’s Y/N.

Blind Date: It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N.

Blind Date: You can call me Nochu.

You: … Nochu … ?

Blind Date: Haha, it’s weird huh?

Blind Date: It’s a nickname I prefer.

You: Ah! I see. I’ll call you that then.

You: Nochu.

Blind Date: Y/N :-)

You stood and placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, groaning, a week later. Classes had been dragging lately and with several coworkers sick with a cold, you were one of the only employees left who wasn’t too ill to work. Your body felt like it was slowly failing you. Even your feet were sore from constantly running from place to place. And the quiet coffee shop before you made you feel like taking a long and well-needed nap. Mismatched chairs and bistro tables littered the trendy place and students congregated around the windows or the fireplace or the used bookshelf. Nobody really bothered you except to order or ask for to-go coffee sleeves. Mostly, you just stood there. For hours. Watching everything and nothing at once.

But today the energy was a little different. You’d heard from Sua that the graphic design students were approaching an important deadline, and from the looks of the crowd it seemed that deadline was heavy on everyone’s minds. Laptops and drawing tablets and plenty of coffee littered the tables as students chatted in small groups, none of them looking all too happy. You wondered what the project was, but didn’t want to bother Sua with a useless question. So instead, you just watched over customer’s shoulders as they added thick white lines to separate sections of illustrations or grabbed whole images with slender styluses and slid them to new spaces.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped and turned to the queue which up until moments ago had been completely empty. You made sure to manage your expression with a tight smile and bowed your head. “Sorry,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet the customer.

And, to your shock and horror, you saw a familiar face amongst the group of thee college-aged boys. Jeon Jungkook stood in the middle, a half-pace behind the guy who had roused your attention, and if his expression was anything to go by, he was just as horrified to see you as you were to see him. You felt your back go perfectly straight, eyes wide and lips parted through which only shallow exhales escaped. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart thump-thumped to an uneven cadence.

“Um, what can I make for you?” you asked finally, managing a tight smile at the speaker of the group whose attention was affixed to the sign above your head, reading the menu with squinted eyes. “If you need more time…,” you hedged, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze which you felt burning circles into your face.

“Ah, no I’ve got it,” said the first guy with a polite smile your way. “I’ll have a green tea latte.”

You nodded and wrote it down on your notepad, just to keep things straight. Had your coworkers been stronger in their constitution, you’d have given the order to one of them to get started on. Perhaps you’d even get started yourself and leave the cashiering to them. But alas, you were alone and painfully aware of it.

“Will you be paying separately or together?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. Please say together, please say together, please say together, you thought over and over, like an endless mantra.

The first boy chuckled and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm punch. “Like I’ll pay for these good-for-nothings,” he joked before returning his attention to you, smiling. He had a kind smile, but even that did little to ease your anxieties. You simply nodded and took his card as he stretched it out toward you.

The second guy approached, another brown-haired college kid with a polite grin and baggy spring clothes, and hummed. “I’ll do the caramel macchiato,” he said with a nod, fingers still clasping his chin as he scanned the menu and you scribbled his order. “Ah!” he said, pointing at you. You jumped, still on edge with adrenaline coursing through you, but quickly settled with a smile. “And a slice of banana bread.”

“Banana bread,” you mumbled to yourself as you wrote it. “Okay.”

The second handed you a credit card which you swiped quickly, eager to get this whole encounter over with. He took it back with a bow and a smile which you struggled to return because the moment you glanced over his shoulder you caught Jungkook’s gaze, intense, warm browns peering at you like you held answers he’d been searching for. Despite yourself, you blushed and glanced back toward your notepad.

Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived and your nerves made your hands a little shaky as they clasped the pen and paper. Your eyes wavered around the space between your own hands, measuring the empty air, desperate not to look at Jungkook again.

“Um…,” he mumbled, voice a low rumble in his chest. You almost wanted to squeeze your eyes shut altogether, even though you knew how dumb that’d make you look. “Can I get a strawberry smoothie?”

You almost laughed. It was so like him to come to a coffeeshop and order something like that. It was so like him to still have a weak palate when it came to bitter things. It was so like him to chase after you that day, to show up here on coincidence. It was so like him to be exactly who you remembered him to be. Exactly who he was back then.

Slowly, once you’d written his order down, you lifted your eyes and looked at him properly at last. He was dressed well, casual as you expected, all black as you expected, handsome as you expected. His hair was half-styled out of his eyes, and those eyes were the problem really. Dark and depthless, staring down at you with furrowed brow, jaw clenched. If anyone had doubts you two knew each other before, they’d certainly know now with the way he was watching you. The way he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“Um…yeah,” he responded, blinking at you like he had more to say.

By then, his friends had begun setting up camp amongst the mismatched sofas and recliners, setting up their computers. You caught sight of a drawing tablet as its corner poked out the top of the first boy’s backpack. So they were design majors too? Maybe your blind date had met one of these guys, then. But wait. If his friends were, did that mean…

“You’re a design major?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

But once you said it, you wished to suck the words back inside like tapioca balls through a straw because across Jungkook’s face flashed a brief glimmer of excitement, eyes wide, mouth already open and poised to respond.

“Yeah!” he said, smiling a little. “I…uh, well you remember how I liked to draw.”

You nodded, typing the total into your cash register. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about-,”

“Let’s not rehash things here,” you said, eyeing him from beneath your lashes, scanning the shop like a conspirator in search of any prying eyes, any listening ears. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve both moved on so let’s just keep it at that.”

Jungkook shut his mouth and, after a long moment, sighed. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. You hazarded a glance up at him and found his eyes long-sighted, gazing down at the counter between you without really looking at it.

“It’ll be 3,500 won,” you said, holding out one hand towards him.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if returning to himself, and yanked his wallet from the front pocket of his loose joggers. He pulled out a bill and handed it to you. 20,000. Was that the smallest bill he had on him? You examined it with a thinly-veiled scowl. Of course, he was probably making good money doing something impressive. That was Jungkook anyway. The type of guy who just…made things come to him. Like the universe responded to his will. You sighed and went to work on the old register, punching in the amount and sliding the bill inside. You produced his change to find him already bounding toward his friends with his broad back to you.

Panicked, you rushed to the side of the barista station and called out to him. “Hey! You forgot your change!” you shouted, cupping one hand around your mouth. A few patrons turned to look at you and Jungkook.

He barely glanced back at you when he said, “You can keep it.”

And suddenly you were blushing for a very different reason.

That jerk, you thought to yourself as you watched him plug away at some ad he was working on on his tablet. Evening had fallen slowly upon the city of Seoul, and you wanted nothing more than to stroll out into the lavender evening, forgetting this whole unpleasant day. But instead, you had to wait for your coworker, Sora, to relieve you after making you work fifteen minutes past the end of your shift. Scowling, you kept a hawk’s eye on Jungkook and, unbeknownst to him, wished silent curses upon his head. I hope you go bald, you thought. Or worse, I hope you go out for fried chicken and you get only tendons. You crossed your arms and lolled your head to the side.

You shouldn’t have expected Jungkook to change. He’d always been a ‘my pace’ kind of guy. Maybe leaving that tip was his way of flexing his money to you. That he had enough money to just throw around at random baristas he used to hook up with in high school. Or maybe he was pitying you, looking down on you for working such a menial job. Either way, it made your blood boil. You felt the money crinkle in the pocket of your jeans with every step.

You’d briefly considered spitting in his smoothie, but you didn’t want to lose your job over Jeon Jungkook.

After all, you’d already lost your youth to the kid.

You glanced outside and watched the rainclouds gathering. Of course, you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn’t like you’d checked the weather on the way out. Grumpily, you glanced down at your phone to check the time. Twenty minutes late now. What did Sora have to do that was so important? Normally, you’d complain to a friend. But Sua was about the closest you had these days and you weren’t sure you could trouble her with it.

But…were you really friends if you didn’t reach out to her from time to time?

Sighing, you glanced around the shop, making sure nobody was watching you, and unlocked your phone. So much had already happened that a quick message didn’t seem reasonable, but you couldn’t very well bury your head in your phone so after every few clicks you’d sweep your gaze around. You settled for an anxious few words between nervous glances at the rest of the shop. Realistically, you were off the clock anyway. But you didn’t want any bad Yelp reviews on your behalf.

You: Sua, on God today is cursed.

You waited a few moments for a response before growing impatient. Everything was taking forever today: that interaction with Jungkook, Sora taking over your shift, and now Sua not responding. Of course, she had no obligation to. She was probably busy with her own preparation much like the other graphic design students. You had no right to expect that of her.

Wasn’t that your problem from the start? Expecting too much?

Your phone buzzed in response as your mind began to drift toward melancholy thoughts and as you slid it open your eyes went wide and your fingertips chilled as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

Blind Date: Hah…I’m not Sua, but I am willing to listen if you need it…?

Blind Date: Was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. You cupped a hand over your lips in horror, and just as you were about to melt into a pile of melted pride on the floor, the door swung open and a breathless Sora met your eyes with a nervous smile. You swallowed hard and pocketed your phone, offering Sora your full attention. He bowed his head to you, bending at the waist, as he approached the counter.

“I am so sorry for being late!” he shouted, loud enough for every patron to glance at him and, subsequently, you.

Your flushed face went beet red as Jungkook turned to stare at you, eyes wide. Of course, another embarrassing moment in front of that guy. “U-um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving your hands.

He sniffled and looked up at you, eyes red with impending tears. “I really didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep after class today and-,”

“Sora, it’s cool,” you said, removing your apron and hanging it on the rack behind you. “I’m gonna go now though so I can catch my subway.”

Sora stiffened and nodded, giving you a salute before scampering behind the counter and putting on his own apron. “I really am sorry!” he called after you.

You waved a hand and rushed out onto the sidewalk, lingering beneath the awning as the rain began to drizzle from overhead. You returned your attention to your phone, pushing your hair behind your ears so you could see properly, and swallowed your nerves.

You: I…am such an idiot.

You: I’m so sorry. I was at work and I’m not supposed to be on my phone, but I just…

You: Jesus, honestly you can just delete my number. I don’t think I can look at your contact anymore without cringing.

You were poised to take a step out into the rain when your phone vibrated again and you jumped to read it with barely shaking hands.

Blind Date: No! It’s okay. Seriously.

Blind Date: I can list dumber things I’ve done today alone.

Blind Date: Besides, sounds like you need someone to talk to anyway…?

You blinked at your phone screen a few times, cocking your head to the side. Somehow, his words had calmed you down, just a little. Your flaming cheeks were cooler now when you poked one with the pad of your finger. Your heart wasn’t a hammer against your ribcage. And as you glanced over your shoulder at the window into the coffeeshop, you found Jungkook was no longer in sight. With a few texts alone, things seemed a little better.

You: I won’t bore you with all of it, haha.

You: It was more of a Sua story anyway I think.

You: I’m trying to break through that kinda hesitant first stage of friendship with her and

You: Well anyway, I’m sorry to bother you. Hope you’re doing good?

Blind Date: Haha, hey I get it. Friendships are weird. Took me a while to make any real friends this year since I was so shy.

You: You were shy?

Blind Date: Oh big time. I still don’t really know how to approach people without saying or doing something wrong.

Blind Date: Like today. I think I came across like an asshole to someone.

Blind Date: That happens a lot actually -_-

Blind Date: Being nervous makes me act weird.

You: Really? You sound really confident over text.

Blind Date: Haha really? That’s good to hear at least.

Blind Date: I’m about the least confident person I know.

Blind Date: Whew, not exactly the impression I wanted to give to a possible date! Oops.

You smiled at your phone and began typing out a response when the door by your hip swung open and out walked Jungkook and his friends. Jungkook caught your eye as your smile was slipping into a scowl and you quickly righted yourself, looking away down the busy street. You held your phone close to your chest and popped a hip out to the side, feigning disinterest.

“See you guys tomorrow,” said one boy.

“Yeah,” responded Jungkook, and you saw out the corner of your eye that the guys parted ways. Jungkook lingered beside you underneath the awning, watching you keenly. “Who were you texting?” he asked.

You stiffened and glanced up at him with a frown. “Is that any of your business?” you asked.

He flushed a little, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a few breathy laughs. “Sorry. Guess not,” he said with a sigh.

For a few moments the two of you just stood there, silent. You weren’t sure what to do next without an umbrella, and you didn’t want Jungkook to think you were just…spending time with him for fun. But still, you didn’t move or make a sound. Just watched the steadily increasing rainfall splatter against the pavement, gathering in pools beside the sidewalk.

“Listen,” he began, turning to you properly. You eyed him from below with raised brows. “I really don’t want any bad energy between us, okay? I know things were messy before, but we’re in college now. It’s been years, right?” Some of the tension between you broke, but it was quickly replaced by a new tension: your outrage.

You blinked at him, working your jaw. “Jungkook, you don’t get to tell me when I’m allowed to stop being hurt,” you said, shaking your head. “Seeing you is a little painful, even though it’s been a long time. So…maybe just ignore me.”

Jungkook sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I am.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really want anything to do with you,” you said, meeting his eyes. Your own calm surprised you. He looked desperate, brows knit and lips parted. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just leave me alone.”

He blinked a few times, eyes wide. “I…I mean, we go to the same school now and everything. I just transferred this year and it’s…I don’t really know many people. It’s not like we’re strangers, so why should we act like we are?”

You swallowed your anger. “I’m gonna go now,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out into the rain. You turned to look at him. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying, so it’s not worth repeating it again in a different way. Just…leave me alone.”

But before you could take a single step toward the subway entrance three blocks away, Jungkook was beside you in the rain, fiddling with his umbrella. “Wh-what are you doing? I just said to leave me alone!” you called at him over the sound of the rain around you.

Jungkook spat rainwater out from between his lips and shook his head as the umbrella finally popped open and the rain stopped pummeling you, now ricocheting off the nylon. You stared up at Jungkook underneath the dark umbrella, confined beneath it, confined to this small, enclosed space. Your chest was nearly touching his arm and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face. Strawberries. Like his smoothie. Rain was caught in his long eyelashes and his rosy lips were still parted, cheeks a warm pink. He stared down at you and for a brief moment, you felt a hot, shooting sensation running from the top of your head to your toes.

“Let me walk you to the station at least,” he said, scanning you.

You felt a little faint, and the sweet scent of his cologne only made you more disoriented. “I’m fine. It’s only a few blocks,” you said, but even you could admit your voice sounded weak.

He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. “I know I hurt you a lot back then, but…,” he began, then shook his head. “Even if it’s small, I wanna make it up to you somehow. So…let me walk you.”

You rubbed your bare forearm and inhaled sharply, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Fine,” you forced out and the two of you began walking.

“So…,” said Jungkook after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “How was your date the other day?”

You groaned. “What we’re not gonna do is this.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious.”

You watched your hands, clasped in front of you, and sighed. “It didn’t happen,” you said. If nothing else, at least your time with Jungkook made you remarkably comfortable talking to him about your thoughts and feelings. “We cancelled.”

“Why?” he asked, brows high.

You shrugged. “After seeing you, I was kinda crabby so…”

“It was my fault?” He pointed with his free hand to his own chest, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah but not really,” you said with an easy exhale. “It’s for the best anyway. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t wanna end up hurting his feelings or something.”

“You’d rather be alone than risk having things end badly?” he asked.

You peered up at him. “Wonder why that is,” you mumbled before glancing away.

He sighed. “Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the walk was silent as the two of you were forced to simply live with the words you’d exchanged, unable to do anything to alter the events that led you here. All you could do was walk forward, united under a shared umbrella for just a moment, until you ducked out from beneath it and disappeared down the subway station stairs, not even pausing for a moment to wave or say goodbye.

Blind Date: Yikes, did I really scare you off?

You raised your brows at your phone screen as the subway bumped along. It was too crowded to find a seat, so you stood cramped between a stout businessman and a high school girl, all of you holding the railing overhead for stability. You couldn’t help it, but again you smiled. After all the craziness that had come from the day, this stranger seemed to help you feel at ease.

You: Haha nope! It’d take more than that.

You: I bumped into someone I didn’t want to see, so I had to take care of that.

Blind Date: !!! Same person as before??

You: Yeah, if you can believe it lol.

Blind Date: (o_O)

Blind Date: How unlucky can a person be?

You: That’s what I’m saying. (￢_￢;)

You: That’s actually one of the things I was gonna complain to Sua about.

You: Y’know, teenage heartbreak and high school angst. Etc.

Blind Date: Hey, I said it before. I’d love to listen!

Blind Date: Aight, that was too enthusiastic. How about: I wouldn’t mind hearing you out!

You: Lol, good addendum.

You: I mean, it’s not like it’s really that serious. Just…in high school I was really shy. I didn’t have very many friends and I thought that I was fine on my own, you know?

You: But I guess I was lonelier than I thought haha. There was this really handsome guy in my class who started sitting with me on the roof at lunch. At first, neither of us really said anything. Just…sitting together.

You: But after a while, we got pretty close. Half a school year maybe. He said he came up there because the air was nice, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he was a little too popular for his own good. Everyone wanted to talk to him. But he was like me.

You: Introverted, I mean.

Blind Date: Sounds like you two were good friends, then?

You: Yeah, until I caught feelings lol. Mistake.

Blind Date: You confessed??

You: Hehe…yes.

You: After a while being close, I felt really comfortable telling him anything. I told him it wasn’t like I was expecting him to date me or anything. I just wanted him to know so he could be a little more careful around me.

You: But it seemed like he reciprocated.

You: We started dating…I guess?

You: Never put a label on it, which was another mistake on my part for not asking.

You: But we did everything couples did, just…not really in front of anyone from school.

You: Never asked about that either lol.

Blind Date: Oh…

Blind Date: I mean…that doesn’t sound so good…

You: Haha, it’s probably exactly what it sounds like because once we’d been together for about a year, he ended things really suddenly. We were getting ready to apply for colleges and he was gonna go for one in a different city. He said it wouldn’t work out.

You: I fought really hard for it, but he started saying pretty mean things and I didn’t want to get hurt so I ended up conceding.

Blind Date: Mean things?

You: Things I don’t really wanna type out haha…

Blind Date: Shit! Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

You: Hey, don’t worry! Old wounds. I should probably get over it, really.

You: No time like the present!

You: He said he never really liked me and he was only with me because he felt bad for me. Didn’t really love hearing that.

You: He said because I didn’t have friends, he pitied me. That was why he went to the roof to eat with me. Why he kissed me and all that. Took me on dates. ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ Pretty dumb, imo, but that’s what he said and it seemed like he meant it anyway lol.

Blind Date: Y/N…

You: Hey, you asked!

Blind Date: That’s really shitty. You didn’t deserve that.

Blind Date: You carried that around with you all these years?

You: Hah, admitting it sounds kinda pathetic, huh?

You: I guess it’s not the sort of thing you just…get over. I think I really loved him too, so…

You: Anyway, seeing him now is really weird. Never thought I’d see him around here again, but suddenly he’s everywhere haha. Definitely doesn’t feel great, tbh.

You: Ew, sorry for laying all that on you. Not exactly small talk.

Blind Date: No!! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you talked to me about it. Honestly…I feel really sorry for you. It sounds like the whole thing affected you a lot. :-(

Blind Date: If it makes you feel better, I think I can understand you a little!

Blind Date: Like I said, I’m a bit shy myself. It’s not an issue of having friends, but finding good ones. It’s hard for me to socialize without saying something dumb and regretting it. So for a while, when I first started college, I isolated myself a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

Blind Date: But recently, I’ve met some people who are really kind. People who don’t judge me when I mess things up (which is often haha). They help me communicate better.

You: You communicate really well, I think :-)

Blind Date: Haha, thank you. I’m actually blushing a little, whew. Uh, I guess it’s because it’s easier to type things out. Speaking is hard because you can’t just reword things before sending them. You say it out loud and it’s forever, you know?

You: Yeah! Jeez, that actually happened to me today (—_—)

You: I’m glad someone else understands it lol

Blind Date: Yeah, me too.

By the time you received the last message, you were already back inside your apartment, soaked from the walk home. You’d used your bag to cover your phone as you walked and typed, so now the thing was slumped against your dining chair like a sopping wet creature. But still, you smiled at your phone. Even though the conversation with Jungkook had been jarring, you’d almost forgotten it after chatting with your blind date. It felt oddly vulnerable to reveal so much to him, but his reaction had been really reassuring. You set your phone aside and padded to the bathroom to dry yourself a little with a towel, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were a little flushed, eyes clear, and still smiling. You shook your head, trying to shake off your grin, but when you glanced back at your reflection it was still the same.

With the towel dangling across your shoulders, you returned to the living room and saw your phone lit up with another new text. Smiling, you unlocked it and read what he had to say.

Blind Date: Off topic, but uh…

Blind Date: Did you happen to catch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones?

Blind Date: Because I need to talk about it or I might explode.

You raised your brows and, without meaning to, you laughed. Was this okay? Was it alright to become close to someone like this again? Was it alright to be excited about someone again? You were fearful, cautious, hesitant. After everything with Jungkook, you’d found it impossible to trust people’s intentions. Were they being nice to you because they liked you or because they felt bad for you? Would you get hurt if you trusted the goodwill of the people around you?

You: Um…

You: CAN WE TALK ABOUT ARYA???

You weren’t going to talk to him again.

Well…that was your intention anyway. But by Friday, you’d spent every night up late chatting with this Nochu guy. It wasn’t like you talked about anything all that interesting or profound. Music you liked, games you played, anime you watched. You’d spent the better portion of Thursday night talking about whether Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was superior. You weren’t sure why you were compelled to respond every time his name lit up your phone. And you really weren’t sure why you were the one reaching out to him now as you sat watching your professor detail the process of molecular movement across a cell membrane.

Perhaps you’d missed making easy conversation with someone you liked talking to…

After high school, you’d become something of a recluse. You spent more nights in than out and despite doing well in your classes, you’d found yourself…slightly lonesome. That’s why when Sua gave you her number after you’d successfully finished a project together a few months ago, you’d been quick to take it. Even though it was a little scary, some small part of you wanted to trust people again.

And maybe that’s why too. Why you were sending this stupid text in the middle of your lecture.

You: Hey dude. You free today?

Blind Date: Hm? Why?

You: Idk, Burger King or smth?

Blind Date: Hehe, are you trying to revive our dead romance?

You: O.O Our romance died already? After one failed date?

Blind Date: Hahaha I mean…you can try giving it CPR if you want…?

Blind Date: Mouth-to-mouth ;-D

You: Yuck, I take it back. Our romance is dead and buried.

You: Anyway, you free?

Blind Date: Uh yeah probs later. I’ve got class until 4.

Blind Date: Does that work for your Burger King plan?

Blind Date: I know it’s hard to get a reservation at that place on short notice >.<

You: I take it all back.

You: I have plans tonight, soz.

You: Talk to ya later, weeb.

You smiled and set your phone down beside your notebook, refocusing on your professor. But your attention was quickly assuaged by your phone vibrating once more. You smirked down at it and, covertly, read the slew of oncoming text messages with a chuckle.

Blind Date: !!! That’s rude !!!

Blind Date: You can’t just offer a Burger King date and snatch it out from under me like that.

Blind Date: I’ll be mad if you jerk me around >:-(

Blind Date: You see that face? I mean BUSINESS.

You: Calm down lol, I was kidding.

You: Let’s meet at the Burger King next to the ramen place near campus?

Blind Date: Hehe, sounds good :-P

Blind Date: Ah, but don’t be too surprised when you meet me, okay?

Blind Date: I don’t want you fainting when you see my handsome face 8-)

You: Mhm, I’ll be sure not to faint.

Blind Date: I mean…a little fainting is fine…

You: Haha shut up. I’ll see you there. Looking forward to putting a face to the texts!

Blind Date: Hopefully my face doesn’t disappoint lol.

You: Yikes, mine either.

Blind Date: Yours won’t.

Blind Date: Haha, I’m sure you’ll look great. That’s what I meant.

Blind Date: Ew, all of that was hard to read. Forget I said anything hhhhhh.

You smiled fondly at your phone before sliding it into your bag. “You look kinda smitten,” said Sua from beside you.

You jumped and glanced at her as the rest of the class began packing up. She was grinning at you like a co-conspirator, brows low, knowing grin on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been texting someone named Blind Date during every class period for a week,” she said, cocking a brow. “I take it you guys hit it off?”

You felt yourself go warm. Not like with Jungkook the other day, but like something else. Something a little deeper than a physical reaction. Nonetheless, you cleared your throat and smiled at Sua. “He’s a good guy. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” she asked with a laugh, flitting her hand as the two of you stood together. “Sounds boring. Get a smooch or two out of it or it’s a bust.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t really know if he’d be interested in me that way.”

“What about you?” she asked, eyeing you. “Would you be interested?”

You stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and opened and shut your mouth a few times. “I…,” you began, then glanced at your feet. You followed her out into the hallway where students hurried by in a flash beside you. “I mean…”

Sua paused her walking to stare back at you, her teasing grin replaced with a genuine one. “Wait, do you actually like him-like him?” she asked, eyes alight.

You stiffened, scratching your arm, and sighed. “Jeez, I don’t know! Maybe,” you said, waving your hands. “Forget it, I’ve got another class soon.”

She laughed as you maneuvered around her through the hall, calling after you. “You’re cute when you’ve got a crush!”

You sat at a booth by yourself at Burger King, waiting for your not-date to show up. It had only been a few minutes and already your anxiety was starting to speak in your ear. He’s not showing up, it whispered, You’re an idiot. And maybe you were. Looking around the fast food joint, you saw more than a few couples, sitting side-by-side or gazing at each other over fried chicken. You didn’t envy them. Not that way. Just…maybe it was the human connection you missed more than anything. Last time you’d been in this situation, you were still deeply in love with Jeon Jungkook.

You were sixteen and you sat twiddling your thumbs on a suburban bench overlooking Seoul. Trees swayed in the summer breeze and carried with them the scent of young hopefulness, naivety in the form of dogwood blossoms. You watched the uneven cityscape before you as it resisted the pull of the wind, and far in the distance, slightly glittering in the sunlight, the Han River. Jungkook had said he’d be there at exactly two. It was ten past, and you were getting a little nervous. You’d confessed not a week prior during the last week of school, and to your shock Jungkook had been receptive. He hadn’t said anything bold like ‘I like you too’ or ‘let’s date’ but he had invited you out for some ice cream and you figured that was much the same thing for him.

Maybe he’s just being nice, you thought to yourself with a sigh. You’d spent a long time picking out the right outfit, getting your hair to lay just right. And still, you didn’t feel quite up to par with him. Girls were always confessing their love for him. Guys too. What made you any different than the dozens of other hopefuls? He probably won’t come…

“Y/N!” called a voice from the winding, hilly street.

You jumped and turned, and your heart swelled as you saw Jungkook running down the sidewalk toward you, grinning from ear to ear. And that was what did you in. That sincerity, that vigor, that enthusiasm…all for you. You stood up to meet him and chuckled as he caught his breath, patting his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, panting. “My mom started lecturing me, so I got tied up.” After a few moments regaining his composure, he finally looked at you properly and when he did, you noticed his cheeks going red hot, eyes round. “Oh, wow,” he said, glancing away with a jittery laugh. “S-Sorry, you…you look really nice.”

You felt a little faint. You’d spent months pining after this kid, pining after this purity you kept glimpsing in him, and now…

He was saying you looked nice.

It was almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

You smiled at your shoes and rubbed your neck. “Th-thank you,” you said.

He laughed, nervous once more, and gave your shoulder a shove. “Hey, don’t get all clammy on me, okay? Nothing’s weird between us. Just…two pals…on a date.”

You jumped and stared up at him with unbridled surprise. “Date?” you asked, shameless hope in your voice.

He laughed, eyes turning to crescents, and nodded. “What else would it be?” Of course. Of course, since it was Jungkook, the answer was just that simple, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard and tried to manage your expression, but you couldn’t fight the smile teasing your lips. “Oh,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

He examined you for a moment, scanning you. You weren’t used to going out with friends, let alone dating. All of this was new and exhilarating to you. But you felt a sudden wave of shyness that you couldn’t fight off, and a slightly pleasant self-consciousness. You felt him looking at you, and it didn’t feel like he hated looking. You became very aware of your body, each limb, each finger. Still smiling a little, you laughed again, unsure of what else to do. These were uncharted waters, after all.

“Hm,” he said, bending down to meet your eyes. You blushed and leaned away a little, but he was blushing too and it made you feel better knowing perhaps he was just as nervous as you. “Lemme prove it.”

Your eyes went wide, but before you could say or do anything, Jungkook closed the distance between you, tipping his chin so that your lips met. His lips were warm and soft. They tasted like chapstick and banana milk. You didn’t move, not a single muscle, and perhaps this worried him because he was quick to lean away and stare down at you, fresh insecurity on display in his warm brown eyes.

“Sorry! Was that too sudden?” he asked, laughing and glancing away, down the quiet street. “Jeez, I got carried away, huh? Ha, I’m sorry.”

Before he could spiral, you took a timid step forward and pushed yourself onto your toes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself nearer to him. He jumped and looked at you with stunned eyes. But you didn’t give him a chance to think too much, because before long you were kissing him, head tilted to the side, eyes shut. Without much pause, his hands found your waist and stayed there, respectful, unsure.

And somehow, you’d summoned the courage to do it. To kiss him back.

Because he showed up, after all.

He didn’t leave you alone…

Fifteen minutes now and you were beginning to worry. You reasoned that at least there were worse places to be stood up. A nice steakhouse, for instance. At least here you weren’t the only solo diner. But nonetheless, the feeling of a deep gut-punch was only growing. Dread and disappointment mingled into a bitter cocktail in the pit of your stomach. Wouldn’t this just be…poetic? Getting stood up for your first date after years of fear and emotional isolation?

Wouldn’t that be exactly what would happen?

Thirty minutes. At first, you tried to tell yourself he was probably just running late from a class. After all, the walk from campus alone was around seven minutes. Maybe he’d gotten released late. Maybe he’d gotten held up with a professor or classmate. You stared at your Whopper with dead eyes now, watching the cold burger as all the heat drained from it. It was too late to save it now. And perhaps it had never been meant for you to eat anyway. Maybe it was your destiny to become a vegetarian or something.

Nonetheless, you sent a text.

Even though it felt pathetic.

You: Hey, uh…we still on for Burger King?

You: No rush, haha.

You: Just a little worried…

Was this revenge for ruining the first date? Some elaborate plot to get back at you? He seemed like a really sweet guy, but so had Jungkook after all. After several minutes without a reply, you began to accept the fact that you’d been thoroughly stood up. Your throat constricted, eyes going a little hazy, and resolved to wait a little longer. Just a little.

Forty-eight minutes. No reply and no date. By then, plenty of customers had come and gone through the front doors, none of them him. You couldn’t bring yourself to take even one bite of food, the money wasted, the time wasted too. How much time had you wasted, really? How much of your life had you spent watering dead plants?

When Jungkook told you he wanted to break up, you’d been in disbelief. The two of you were close, so close it almost hurt, and the sudden end felt like a slap in the face or a jolt to the heart. You’d fought him in his room that night, the sunset turning the ends of his hair gold, turning his eyes gold too. He had no right being so handsome at a moment like that. You asked for a reason and he said he didn’t want any strings going in to college. He wanted to be unaffiliated. But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that the time you spent together had meant so little to him, that the relationship was a dead plant from the start.

I was only dating you because I felt bad for you! he’d shouted once he’d had enough. Ever wonder why I never told anyone about us?! You’d been stunned then, stunned silent. Your brain was failing to process his words. He’d never spoken that way to you before. How much time had you spent in love? How much time had he spent pitying you? I was your only friend, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to do?!

Perhaps you’d been right after all. Perhaps giving yourself to other people was too dangerous, too painful. Perhaps loving someone wasn’t worth it, perhaps it could never be completely reciprocal. Perhaps any relationship you had would be a waste of time. Perhaps all you were destined to do was water dead plants until finally, you decided it was enough.

One hour. You stood up from your seat, wiped beneath your eyes as the tears you’d been fighting finally crested over your bottom eyelid, and carried your tray to the garbage. You slid your trash into the bin and, sniffling, wandered out toward the exit. Customers avoided walking too close to you, likely noticing the tears that were now tracking stubbornly down your cheeks. You would have wiped them, had you had the energy to care.

But all you wanted was to go home and be alone.

Alone for a while.

You pushed your way outside, taking in the fresh spring day. No more rain, even though you would have welcomed it. It could have concealed your crying, your red nose and swelling eyes. You could have cowered beneath a bus stop and nobody would have noticed you. Nobody would have noticed.

Instead, the spring day was gorgeous, teasingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and people milled about through the street, smiling and chatting easily. Sniffling, you wiped your nose and joined them, walking down the sidewalk toward the subway entrance near campus.

You were overreacting. You didn’t even know this guy that well yet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t someone you’d given your whole heart to. He hadn’t betrayed you, because deep down you’d expected this. Maybe that’s what upset you so much. Being proven right.

You exited the crowd of people a block from the Burger King and walked with your head down toward the subway entrance. You were about to step on to the escalator when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned slowly, eyes bleary from all the crying, and rubbed your tears away to see them clearly. Again, like he had some sort of sense for when you were most humiliated, Jungkook stepped toward you. His face was contorted in worry, thick brows knit, mouth agape as he stared down at you, scanning you.

You sniffled and nodded. “What?” you asked.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, taking you by the crook of the arm and leading you toward a more sparsely populated alley beside the sidewalk. You didn’t fight. Didn’t have it in you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his own eyes watery as he looked down at you, forcing your head up as he held it between two big, warm hands.

You kept your gaze on the dirty ground. “Let me go,” you said, but it was weak.

“Y/N…,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb against your cheek. “Jesus.”

“What?” you asked, looking at him quick, fierce. “Are you pitying me?”

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. Looking at him now, he seemed pretty shaken himself. Why did the two of you keep bumping into each other like this? “No! No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you asked, shaking his hands off your face. “What is it, huh? Here to show off your money? Show me how good you’re doing while I’m working minimum wage? Huh? Do you like feeling superior?”

He swallowed hard, his expression revealing some sort of hurt you couldn’t name. “No! Please, it’s not that! Let me explain-,”

“No! You don’t have any right to ask me to listen to you!” you said, sobbing. You wiped your eyes with your forearm and shook your head. “Just leave me alone! Everyone!” you shouted.

Jungkook took your shoulders in his hands to keep you still and you tried a few times to shake yourself free, but to no avail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You kept crying, the ancient pain welling up from inside you like some age-old reserve finally erupting. Your body rocked with the force of your tears. “Isn’t it pathetic? The minute I start trying to reach out, I get stood up?” you asked with a manic laugh. “Doesn’t that just make you feel so good? Aren’t I pitiable?”

Jungkook’s own tears were pooling in his eyes and you could see them there, threatening to fall. “Please,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Isn’t this what you want? Someone to look down on? Someone to feel bad for?” you asked, face wet from the tears. “Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you shouted, loud enough to rouse the attention of a few people on the sidewalk behind Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook, without another word, sniffled sharply and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his strong hold for a few moments, writhing, before finally submitting. Without even meaning to, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sobbed into his black shirt. He held you close, resting his cheek on your head. You could have sworn you felt a few tears hitting your shoulder.

But before you could get too comfortable in his embrace, you pushed yourself away and stared at him, bitter, angry, from several feet away. You looked at him like a feral thing, like an alleycat. And the way he watched you was different than it was that day by the bench. It was worried now, like a shadow had crossed over his face.

“I’m sorry-,” he began.

You shook your head and shoved past him. “Don’t talk to me. Ever,” you spat as you walked by, rejoining the stream of people on the sidewalk toward the subway entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sua as the two of you left class.

Half a week had passed, and you were eager for more time to distance you from that unpleasant day. You’d received a slew of texts from your blind date, all of which had gone unanswered. They ranged from the typical I’m so sorry texts to more in-depth explanations. Apparently, he’d gotten nervous. Cold feet, he’d said. Nervous for what, you didn't know and you wouldn’t ask. You were meeting at a Burger King for God’s sake. What could he have been that nervous about?

You glanced at her and offered a tight smile. “Mhm. I’m good. Just…uh…gotta get to work later so I’m thinking about that,” you said, over-explaining. Of course, lying just wasn’t for you.

Sua sighed and hooked an arm around your elbow, leaning close to you as the two of you walked down the hallway. You edged away just slightly, and it seemed she noticed as she turned to you with wide eyes. You hated to admit it, but everything with that Nochu guy had made you wary of even Sua. They did know each other after all. Had this been one big setup from the start? Were the two conspiring to hurt you?

You shook your head and patted her hand with a smile. Of course not. Of course that was crazy. But…something about this whole thing had you feeling crazy. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “Just…met up with someone from my past the other day and it didn’t feel so good.”

She raised her brows. “What? You never mentioned anyone like that before…,” she said, her brows lowering. She looked a little hurt.

You swallowed hard. “Ah, well it’s no big deal,” you said, flitting a hand with a choppy laugh. “It’s in the past for a reason.”

She pouted. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, eyeing you.

And with those words, your chest constricted a little and a small pang of guilt clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to end up hurting her. She was sweet and she wanted to be close to you. But what could you do if you just weren’t ready for that? How could you tell her you may never be ready?

Instead, you turned to her and offered a smile. “I know.”

Blind Date: Y/N…

Blind Date: Please respond. Please.

Blind Date: I really really want to explain everything to you.

Blind Date: I know I really hurt you, but I want to explain.

Blind Date: Isn’t that selfish of me?

Blind Date: To hurt you and then ask you to listen to me?

Blind Date: I’m sorry.

Blind Date: I’m selfish.

You sighed as you watched your phone. The coffeeshop was quiet, fewer patrons now that the design students had finished their projects, and you felt safer looking at the onslaught of texts that just wouldn’t stop flooding your phone. You know you can talk to me, right? That’s what Sua said. She had reached out her hand to you.

And you’d pulled back.

You eyed your phone for a long few moments. Wasn’t it time to stop running away because you were scared of being hurt? Wasn’t it time to stop expecting someone to walk all the way across the tightrope to you and start walking to meet them in the middle instead?

Wasn’t it wrong to punish people for something someone else did?

You: Hey…

You: Sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed space I think.

Blind Date: Shit, I know. I’m so sorry.

Blind Date: You know I care about you though, right?

Blind Date: You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose, right?

You: I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks haha.

You: Honestly, I probably overreacted.

You: After everything that happened with that guy I told you about, I think I’m just a little too sensitive. And I took it out on you. And that was wrong.

Blind Date: No, no! Please don’t apologize. Jesus. It’s entirely my fault. All of it.

You: Haha it’s really not. I shouldn’t hold you and him to the same standards when you’re different people. That’s on me.

Blind Date: Can I see you?

You: Huh? So suddenly? I’m working…

Blind Date: The coffeeshop on campus?

You: Yeah…

You: Don’t come right now though!

You: I won’t be able to talk to you anyway.

Blind Date: I’ll wait. When do you get off?

You: Nine…

Blind Date: I’ll see you at nine.

You blushed, staring down at your screen. Since when was he so direct like this? And why did it make your heart race, just a little?

Sua was right. You definitely had a crush…

You watched the front doors as you began cleaning up the coffeeshop. Closing time was coming soon, and with five minutes until nine you were beginning to feel that festering fear that you’d be stood up again. But as that voice returned to your mind, you were quick to quiet it. You wanted to believe in people again. You couldn’t live your life all alone.

So you swept beneath tables and propped chairs atop them. You cleaned the windows. You hummed a pop song to yourself, trying to keep your mind busy. When you glanced outside, you noticed the spring showers had returned and the rain was falling in bullets from the dark sky. With a sigh, you settled down on one of the recliners by the window, watching cars and buses and people speed by. You wondered which one would come inside despite the sign now reading ‘closed’. You wondered who this person was.

Before you realized it, you were dozing off, struggling to keep your eyes open as you reclined against the comfortable cushions. Your breathing became more rhythmic, deeper in your chest with each inhale, and you snuggled into the back of the recliner with a heavy sigh.

And that’s when you heard it. The distinctive ting of the bell dangling over the front door. Your eyes opened wide and you saw his reflection in the mirror beside you. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie up over his head and an umbrella in his hand, trailing droplets of rainwater onto the wood floor. You wanted to greet him right away, to get a proper look at him, but with your heart racing the way it was you couldn’t find the courage. It was enough for you just to respond to his texts. And now he was here, corporeal, right behind you.

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

“Y/N?” he called, and somehow you recognized his voice.

No way.

It couldn’t be…

You kept your eyes shut and curled your knees closer to your chest. Slowly, you heard him mill around the shop before pausing beside your recliner. His footsteps got closer, rounding the side of the chair to stand right in front of you. And, quietly, he laughed. And you were certain now. You knew exactly who he was.

You felt a warm, big hand press against the side of your head, smoothing your hair down, and heard a fond sigh. “Jeez,” he mumbled. You felt him crouch down beside your feet and his arm dropped to rest on the arm of the recliner. He gently rocked the chair back and forth for a moment, humming. “Don’t hate me too much, okay?” he asked in a whisper.

And, without another moment’s hesitation, you opened your eyes and stared right down at him. “Jungkook…?” you asked, scanning his face.

His eyes were round with shock and his whole person was wet. He gazed up at you from where he crouched on the floor and, mouth agape, said nothing. Wordlessly, you reached a hand out and touched his cheek with the pad of your index finger. Soaking wet. You sighed and pushed to your feet. Jungkook stumbled a little to accommodate you as you slipped past him to the counter. You rifled through the cabinets before producing a towel. By then, he’d followed you to the counter and was waiting on the other side. Sighing, you waved a hand, signaling for him to join you behind the register. He jumped and followed your silent command, and suddenly you were staring at his broad chest up close.

You swallowed your nerves and draped the towel atop his head. “Dry off,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. The lights in the shop were low, and the music still bumped lowly through the stereo. It might have been romantic, if it was anyone else. “Then we can talk.”

He nodded and fluffed the towel through his hair, obscuring his face from view for a few peaceful seconds. “I…I know I have a lot to explain.”

“Yeah,” you said.

He peeked out from behind the towel with one eye, watching you. “Are you mad?”

“Fuming, actually.”

He nodded and let the towel drop to his shoulders. “I expected that,” he said with a sigh. He came to stand in front of your knees, looking right at you with enough sincerity to knock the breath from your lungs. Just like that first date. “I don’t know where to start.”

“So you know Sua?” you asked, letting your heels bounce against the counter’s cabinets.

“Ah, uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re in the same major, so…”

“And you transferred here?”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “It was…no good out in Busan. I missed home too much.”

You nodded, watching your thighs on the counter. “Figures.”

He chuckled wryly. “You know me too well.”

“Thought I did.”

Carefully, he took a single step forward and you jumped, meeting his eyes like a frightened prey. “I never meant for you to carry all that with you for so long,” he said, brows knit and eyes hazy like he may cry. “I didn’t expect you to be so hurt.”

“That’s stupid,” you said. “You can’t tell someone you were only with them out of pity and expect them not to be hurt.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, I’m just stupid,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Since I was moving away, I didn’t want you to waste your time waiting for me to come back, so I wanted to give you a clean break. Since I knew you wouldn’t wanna break up just because of distance.”

You stiffened. “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

You felt like you’d been hit right in the diaphragm, like when you play dodgeball and someone throws a ball at your chest. You sat up straighter and stared at him, watching him carefully. “You lied?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes seriously. It really looked like he might have cried. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep you from meeting new people and making new connections.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone we were dating?” you asked, brow low, scanning him for any signs of insincerity.

His eyes went wide. “I…I told you before, my high school friends…they weren’t so great,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant it when I was texting you about all that. How t’s hard for me to find good people.”

“And you didn’t show up to Burger King last time because…?”

He sniffled. “I meant what I said about that too. I was…really nervous. I was scared you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me.”

You sighed. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the start?” you asked, all animosity draining from your voice as you saw him wiping his red, swelling eyes. “Back in high school. Why didn’t you just tell me all of it then?”

He sniffed and looked away. “I was scared you’d think less of me if you knew I was so insecure. And I didn’t want you to wait for me in college, not when you could’ve been out making new friends.”

“Well, the opposite happened actually,” you said with a dry laugh. “I got really worried that any friends I made would be doing it out of pity.”

Jungkook stiffened. “You…you did?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Shit,” he breathed out, gripping his forehead with two hands. “I’m so stupid!”

Distantly, the sound of the rain picked up outside. You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at you once more, startling you with his sincerity. “I messed up so bad. I messed up everything.”

You blinked at him, standing nearly at eye-level, and slowly reached out to wipe beneath his eyes with your fingertips. “Well, you were right about one thing. I wouldn’t have accepted it had you not said what you said.”

He furrowed his brow and leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said.

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Now that I know everything, it’s hard to be mad at you for being a jerk when you were really just being an idiot.”

He stared at you, inching forward so he rested just between your knees. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, letting out half a chuckle as you let your hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a pat.

“Really,” he said, nodding once as he stared right into your eyes.

“Jungkook, it’s-,”

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance between you, one hand grasping your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. He too looked shocked, like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He shook his head, eyebrows knit, stuttering out syllables that didn’t add up to anything.

“I-I-you-I mean-,” he sputtered, irises shaking. You noticed no small margin of fear in his eyes, like he was terrified he’d messed things up again.

I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

The words he’d trusted you with through the screen, his sincere thoughts. He really regretted it a lot, didn’t he? Your expression softened as he continued struggling to find words, and, without even really meaning to, you wrapped your fingers around his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was too spooked to comment on it, but you slowly pulled him closer. Just like that day in high school, just like it was when you’d first entered hopefully into this fateful relationship, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes. Stunned, he was completely still for a moment before eventually his hands moved to your hips, then slid along your sides, then hooked around your lower back. You hadn’t intended it, but the kiss was getting steamier with each passing moment. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he pulled back to adjust his position before crashing into you again.

As the fever settled down, Jungkook was the first to pull away, but only by a faction so he could speak. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, only inches away from you, eyes heavy-lidded and forehead resting just barely against yours. “O-Okay,” you said. It was all you could manage.

He chuckled once, still embracing you as he stood between your legs. “That’s it?”

“You expect me to say it back?” you asked.

He smiled, staring down at you. “I guess not.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some time,” you said with a nod.

He nodded too, shutting his eyes as he held you close. Slowly, he moved to rest his forehead against your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

“Like…a lot of time probably.”

“I know.”

You let out a shaky exhale and only then did you realize your hands were shaking. As silly as it seemed, this reunion was pretty jarring to your system. The foundation on which you’d rebuilt your sense of self had broken down beneath your feet, leaving you to stand among the rubble once again. Just like back then. Everything you thought you understood had been proven wrong.

But nonetheless, you smoothed your palms against his back and rubbed gently. Not to comfort him, but to comfort yourself. To let yourself know that, even though it was scary, it was okay to trust people sometimes. Self preservation shouldn’t come at the sacrifice of human connection. And even though you knew the road ahead was going to be long and that trusting Jungkook again would take a long time and a lot of work on his end, you were ready to try.

So, as the two of you left the shop under one umbrella, you drafted a text.

You: Sua, I have SO MUCH to tell you.

#jungkook one shot #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts request #bts reader insert #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fluff #bts angst #bts series #bts scenarios #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook reactions #jungkook request

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walkingchemicalfire · 5 years ago

Text

The Stray: Luca

Taking another stab at @whumpmasinjuly Day 12 prompt: “do it”

A/N: My brain just would not let this scene go. This story will be connected to the overarching storyline for “The Stray” but I want a different title in order to split Lyra’s timeline from Luca’s. If you have any ideas that you’d like to share, feel free to drop them into my inbox! For now though, Luca is the subtitle

CW: death, gore, blood, death threats, kind of suicidal ideation (that’s where the “do it” comes into play), dehumanizing talk, wetting in fear, use of needles, guns, knife, and a electrified snare pole

The first thing Luca did after the first bitch took a shot at him, was laugh. Oh humans, such imbeciles. Taking a shot at a werewolf was ballsy enough, but to not even use a silver bullet? Fucking moronic. So Luca just had to laugh when the completely human made (read: useless) bullet sailed over his shoulder and gouged a hole into a nearby tree. He spared it one glance before erupting into a deep belly laugh. The sound boomed through the surrounding forest and he was almost positive the human locked up from fear, if the bitter scent was anything to go by.

Luca descended onto all fours as his wolf broke free seamlessly. He had the scent on lock and tore through the dense forest in a adrenaline fueled rage. On the outreaches of his singular focus, he noticed that all the other creatures in the wood were madly dashing out of his path. Much wiser than the two-legged wretches in his sights. These weak, stupid, shitty cowards could never stand a chance against his might. What could they possibly have hoped for when they provoked him? A swift death surely, one that he would gladly grant them. Although it would be much bloodier than they were imagining.

Luca pounded into the small clearing where the scent trail ended. There were five of the motherfuckers. The bitch that took the shot hadn’t even risen from her prone position in the dirt, her rifle still pointed in the direction of where he had been walking. Luca watched with satisfaction as this one turned her head and immediately the blood drained from her face. She opened her mouth to scream but the sound never passed her lips. Instead, the last thing she saw was the dark depths of Luca’s gullet.

Luca crushed the skull in his jaws, removing it from the body with a quick yank and a twist. He tossed it over the short cliff ledge the now headless body was slumped atop. The explosion of blood in his mouth and the scent of it filling his nostrils heightened his senses to new levels. The wolf reveled in the hot liquid dripping from his maw. It invigorated him. Sent sparks of heat zipping through his veins. Igniting the hottest fires along his nerves.

The next moments passed in a blur of decimation. A flurry of pulverized flesh, shattered bone, and more blood than Luca could swallow. His entire front, from jaw to claws, was sticky with it. His fur was matted with it as well, and yet he could not find it in himself to care. All that he wanted was to rid his territory of these dipshit creatures.

Speaking of, the final bastard was making a desperate scramble to retreat. He was on his butt, crawling backwards while facing the massive wolf currently stalking toward him. Luca took in the human’s unadulterated terror with gleaming eyes. This scent was unparalleled in the overwhelming sense of panic and...the of foul smell ammonia. The wolf’s nostrils twitched at the burning stench of human piss. The wolf felt amusement at the realization. The human should be terrified of him. Perhaps it would teach him to stay away from him and his Pack.

Luca was never one to play with his prey, but this was much too inviting. The piss soaked human had backed himself into a tree. Panic took an even tighter hold over him as he realized he was trapped and facing his imminent doom. Luca was enraptured by his chest moving up and down in desperate heaves for his final breaths. He could just hear the blood rushing through his veins, the heart pounding in an almost continuous gallop. Luca licked his chops, savoring the anticipation of having that heart in his stomach.

He came to a halt before this poor excuse for a hunter of his kind, prepared to make his end quick with a slash to the jugular. He had just raised his paw to make the swipe when he felt the knife pierce his side. At first it felt like a normal knife, like the one he had practiced with back home and, more than once, had slashed himself with accidentally. But when the searing burn of silver made itself known, Luca knew he was in a bind.

“AAWWWOOOOAAHHHHH!!!” Luca’s howl morphed into a cry of anguish as he Changed to protect his wolf from the majority of the unbearable torment. He could already feel the silver digging its way through his connection. He wanted to mourn the loss, but he still had his anger to sate.

“You motherfuckin’ shitstain! This how ya fight? Stabbing us with silver ‘stead of facin’ your end with dignity?” Luca hurled the words at the human still backed against the tree before him. This one seemed to get some sort of sense back and he made a mad dash to his feet, only to face plant two seconds later. Luca barked a laugh at the idiot’s desperation. The sound broke off into a gasp as the knife shifted inside him. The human did a strange mix of stumbling and running, like his brain and legs did not agreeing on what speed was appropriate for the situation, and ducked into the surrounding woods.

Luca snorted at the retreat and a slight breeze provided him just enough assistance to catch the new odors of humans. There are way too many for him to overpower in his injured state so he resorted to a new goal: ride it out and slaughter them when the silver had run its course.

The Change had left him on his knees and it’s as good as a position as he can hope for with the knife still lodged under his ribs. He called out to the assholes hiding behind the trees all around him. “Come on out, fucking dickless shitheads! There’s a goddamn silver knife in my side so I ain’t Changin’ for a while. You’re safe, I promise.” And that assurance is as empty as all the bodies splayed out over the clearing.

It certainly got him what he wanted though. The humans move as a group, all with firearms at the ready, surrounding him on all fronts. Luca smiles gleefully when one to his left gets too close. He gnashed his teeth in their direction, beyond pleased when they stumble over their own feet and nearly fall. They make it too easy for him to thrive off their terror.

“Tell y’all what, if you lower your weapons and clear outta my territory, then I won’t gut you like your brothers in the dirt around you.” He remembered the first kill being a female and tacks on, “Hmm, and sister. Which I have to say, pretty shitty of your kind to have women fight your battles.”

“That’s quite enough, dog.” One of the humans breaks off from the circled group and stands in front him. This one has their hands tucked behind their back and is more or less in a relaxed posture. There are no defining outward traits for Luca to determine if this one is male or female. It’s then that he notices his senses are becoming too dull to even pick up a scent on the human.

He mentally shook himself and returned his focus to what vulgar term was just used. “What the hell did you jus’ call me?” He growls out.

“Dog. Spelled D-O-G. Of the Canidae family in the Animalia kingdom. The first animals to be domesticated by humans. Known as a lower species to, as you referenced a moment ago, our kind. Often found in the wild as unhinged, blood thirsty, carnivores that require correction to subdue.” The human paused to gesture between Luca and the lifeless bodies nearby. “You certainly fit the bill a few minutes ago.”

Luca snarled in response. He knew that was not the wisest response in proving that he is not an animal, but the silver was putting him down for the count at a rapid pace and all his remaining energy was going towards keeping himself upright. He has to face off this enemy before he can get away, he just doesn’t know if he’ll have the chance to get far enough.

The Leader scoffed softly and nods to one of the others in the circle to Luca’s right. Before he can even think to look over to see what’s coming, something goes over his head and encircles his neck. It’s a thick band of wire and Luca jerked in outrage and shock, the accompanying adrenaline rush providing enough clarity for him to ignore the sharp twinge as the knife was jostled. He moves in a twisting motion but the wired band is already too tight around his throat. There is no burn like the knife so he raked his nails over it, trying to find a gap he can use to his advantage. When none are found, he yanked his head to the side so the human who was tightening this wire would be thrown off balance. It worked, but he was also caught off guard as the human dropped a heavy pole that is connected to the contraption around his neck. The wire remained secure and he grunted as it pinched his skin.

Luca heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked above him. He looked up at the Leader to find they had a pistol leveled at his head.

Luca snorted and leveled his own glare at the human. “I sure hope ya got a silver one in the chamber there, motherfucker. Else I’m gonna tear your bleedin’ heart outa your goddamn chest and make you eat it.”

The Leader’s eye twitched just slightly, but it was enough incentive for Luca to shift forward and press his forehead to the barrel of the gun.

He never breaks eye contact with Leader. “Do it.”

The Leader pushed back and brings their finger over the trigger. Luca smiles at their hesitancy, making sure to show all his teeth that will make quick work out Leader’s throat, even without his wolf’s fangs.

The shot never comes. Instead, fire burns him from the inside out, branching out from his neck until all his muscles are spasming uncontrollably. He realizes in a daze that this is almost worse than the silver. The current continued surging through him until he could barely breathe.

Somehow he ended up face first in the dirt. He smelled fresh blood and it’s so close he can taste the tang of it. All his senses are under a trance. It felt like he’d been put in a vacuum and everything is being overrun by the ringing in his ears. He feels a prick of something near his neck and, belatedly realizing it was a needle, tried to extricate himself from the tight seal of the vacuum in his head. It does not release him and he groans as his vision darkens further and a sweep of cold rushes through his veins.

“They’re all dead when I break out of this.” Luca vows as he fades out.

Tag Team: @whump-tr0pes @sableflynn @whumpywhumper @0idril0 @cursedscribbles @mymoon199 @endless-whump

**Since this is a new OC, please let me know if you only want to be tagged on Lyra’s story**

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lover-of-skellies · 5 years ago

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Introducing: Valence Bandersnatch. Or Val, if you'd prefer that

He's a British boy (complete with the accent), he lives in Nep's forest by himself, and he's a murderer, getting random people to go back to his little cottage for tea and crumpets or whatever before killing them. From there, he has to dump the bodies in Nep's lake, since he's indebted to Nep (the family of lake dwellers are allowing him to live on their land, so he has to repay them somehow to keep the peace)

He's a flirt with a weird set of morals. Like,, he'll flirt with a person and do sinful things with them if he's in a good mood, but forcing yourself on someone who doesn't want it though? That's a big no no, and if he finds out that someone's done that to someone else before, he will literally kill them on the spot. He’s also got this weird ability that involves changing his appearance, so he can make himself look like anyone he wants. The only thing he can't do from there is mimic their voice. As far as a job goes, he's a hunter and an herbalist, and he sometimes even lends his ability to enchant things to people as well, though that's more expensive for them

Because I was bored and had some free time, I went and wrote a thing to kinda introduce him a little :P it's kinda long though, hence why there's a cut here. Just be warned though,, there's violence, one scene gets a little suggestive (nothing more than kissing happens though, soooo??), and I guess there's some drugging? Some weird aphrodisiac-like substance and a poison, used separately on different things

You'd been minding your own business, absentmindedly swishing your bare feet back and forth in the water as you laid on your back on the wooden dock, looking up at the canopy of trees that seemed to loom over you. The air was a pleasant temperature, not too warm, not too cold, as it drifted through the leaves, occasionally blowing an individual leaf loose and causing it to come fluttering down to the ground. As you listened to the sound of the leaves being caught by the gentle breeze, you let out a soft sigh. You'd been so stressed lately with life; between work and family, you'd felt as though you were dangerously close to snapping and committing murder. Not that you actually would, though.

You'd been so stressed lately with life that when you arrived here and settled down on the dock, you didn't register the pair of solid white sockets that watched your every move, calculating when to strike.

A low growl in some nearby brush caught your attention and you immediately shifted your gaze to them, your brows furrowing; what the hell?... It sounded like it came from some sort of large predator, but the biggest predators that resided in this forest were the simple bobcats. Not even bears called this place their home. Sitting up, you pulled your feet out of the water and fumbled with your shoes and socks, scrambling to slip them on as the growling began to grow nearer and nearer. As soon as you'd successfully put your socks and shoes back on, you stood, narrowing your eyes slightly as you strained to see the shape that was huddled in the brush better. From where you currently stood, all you could see was black and white. Though... If you didn't know any better, you'd say it looked humanoid. How strange.

You took a small step toward the creature, and then a second, and then a third, but it remained almost perfectly still. Another growl made you freeze in place, though this was different from what you'd heard before. This growling sounded more like the sound your stomach would make whenever it called out for food. A pair of solid white sockets, entirely focused on you, narrowed slightly in what could've been considered joy, and you'd somehow edged close enough to be able to watch as a wide grin stretched across the creatures face, displaying a row of serrated, sharp teeth. And then the creature rose to his feet, tilting his head as he stared at you.

It was a skeleton, clad in a pair of baggy basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. His shirt, however... you frowned, your eyes locking on the vivid red that stained it. Right over where his sternum would be, there was a red blotch that resembled a hand print, and you felt your blood run cold. The skeleton watched your expression twist from confusion to fear, and he let out a raspy chuckle, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He then bared his teeth, still smiling widely as he asked, "Hey there, pal. You up for a game of tag?" You were lost for words, shaking your head as you stepped off the dock onto the earth, your eyes wide with fear. His body warped through the space between the two of you and he roughly grabbed your arm, digging his claws into your skin. You yelped as they broke the skin, your eyes watering up as he proceeded to lift your arm. He locked gazes with you as a deep teal tongue slipped past his maw, trailing up your arm and licking up a droplet of blood. Feeling yourself begin to tremble, you whimpered, your voice much weaker than normal, "P-Please... stop..." He licked a bit more of your blood up, his sockets hooded as he leaned even closer, his hot breath fanning over your face as he purred, "I'm it, ok? I'm gonna let you go and give you a ten second head start before I come after you. If I catch you, it's game over. Now," he released your arm, excitement flickering in his sockets, "run, human. Run as fast as you can."

Feeling your heart jump up into your throat, you turned and began to run, hearing the skeleton burst into laughter as he watched you. In your frenzy, you abandoned the established path, running through the brush in a random direction and crying out as you felt thorns scratch at your exposed skin. Whatever it took to get away from that monster, you'd do it without regret.

Still running as fast as your legs would allow, you glanced back over your shoulder, not noticing rays of sunlight momentarily pass over something metallic. You put your foot down, hearing a click, and then you screamed, collapsing in pain as tears streamed down your face. You sobbed loudly, reaching down to pry at the "jaws" of the trap that'd clamped down on your leg just above your ankle, ignoring how the metal teeth sliced the skin of your fingers. Just as you felt the trap loosen a hair bit, your grip on it slipped, and you screamed again as it latched down on your leg, once more at full force. You let out a choked sob as you heard the brush begin the move nearby, a cry for help ripping from your lungs. This was it. This was how you'd die. The trap very clearly wasn't going to budge, and with even the smallest of movements, a searing pain ran up your leg, causing you to cry out in agony yet again. You curled in on yourself, trying to tune out the throbbing from your leg, and in doing so, you failed to see a second skeleton step out of the brush nearby. Upon seeing you on the ground, your entire body shaking as you sobbed loudly, he froze, letting out a long, low whistle, as if impressed on some level, "Oh dear."

Hearing a new voice, you bolted up from your current position, forcing yourself to stand as you faced him, whining loudly, "Please, help me. I need help, I don't wanna die." The new skeleton frowned, setting down the basket he was carrying and making his way over to you, "It's gonna be alright, I promise. I'm gonna lean down to open the trap, and I need you to hold onto me. Do you think you could do that for me, human?" You nodded, reaching out to the stranger and tightly grasping his shoulders as he squatted beside you, curling his phalanges around the jaws of the trap, and with what looked like no effort at all, opened it, freeing your leg. As he rose to his feet again, his grip was gentle yet firm as he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you flush against his side and sighing, "Here, I'll carry you. You're pretty badly hurt and I wouldn't wanna see you make the injury any worse." Despite not knowing this man, you nodded and gave your consent, wrapping your arms around his neck vertebrae as he lifted you, one arm supporting your back while the other was tucked under your knees. He then began to walk, one of his sockets going dark as the other flared up with cyan tinted magic, encasing his discarded basket and making the item begin to float. As he carried you, you lightly rested your head against his shoulder, looking up to admire the color of his magic. He kept his attention forward, pausing to glance back over his shoulder as a twig snapped, worry briefly crossing over his expression. He then stole a quick glance down at you, offering you a small smile, "Human, I need you to close your eyes, please."

You wanted to ask why, but with the way your throat burned from your screaming and sobbing, you decided that questions could wait. You closed your eyes, and then you winced, feeling your stomach turn. Your head spun and for a brief moment, you felt as though static teased at your skin. Although you felt the skeleton shift you in his arms, you kept your eyes shut, waiting for the ok to open them again. Glancing around his small living room, the skeleton watched as his magic lowered his basket to rest on the coffee table and then faded from sight, breathing in deeply as he very delicately lowered you onto the sofa, his voice a mumble, "Alright... you can open your eyes now, friend."

You slowly cracked open your eyes, your heart thudding harder at how close your companion now was to you, offering you a small smile again, "I apologize for that... I needed to use a shortcut to get here faster, where you'd be safe. The only problem is that the transition wouldn't have been pleasant for you, had you kept your eyes open." You nodded slowly, swallowing a lump in your throat as you tore your gaze from him and began to look around, your voice cracking, "W-Where are we?... What's a shortcut?" You looked back to him before continuing, "Who are you? Was that your trap I got caught in? What were you-" He pressed a single phalange over your lips to silence you, his expression softening, "This is my cottage, and a shortcut... well, let's see... it's like teleportation, essentially. To answer your other questions, my name is Valence Bandersnatch, but you're free to call me Val, if you'd like. And no, that wasn't my trap. Believe me, I wouldn't put a trap in such a place, if I had any. While I understand that you likely have many more questions for me, you need to take it easy now. I'm gonna heal up those injuries of yours, and then we can have some tea while we wait for that deranged maniac to pass by. He won't find you here, I promise. All you need to do is keep your voice down."

You nodded in understanding, watching Valence curiously as he lowered himself to his knees, gently moving your injured leg and holding a hand over where the trap had caught you. One of his sockets flared up with magic again, and more similarly colored magic surrounded his hand. As your injury began to rapidly heal, your eyes widened in a mix of shock and awe, your voice barely a whisper, "Whoa... that's so cool..." His cheekbones became flushed, a faint blush beginning to stain them as he smiled sheepishly, releasing your leg as it finished healing, "Thank you... I'm very happy you think so, human." He climbed up onto the couch beside you, holding his hand over the scratches on your arm. Your gaze followed his motions and you continued to watch in awe as the scratch healed before your eyes, just as they'd done before.

His magic faded away and his second socket returned to normal, both irises present once more. Your gaze met his and it was silent for a moment, his multicolored, swirled eye lights captivating you. His faint blush darkened slightly and he cleared his throat, glancing away from you and sheepishly scratching the back of his skull, "I uh... how about I get us some cake and tea? The cake is fresh, just made this morning, and I can whip up a kettle of tea in no time at all." A soft blush teased at your own cheeks as you smiled softly, "As long as it wouldn't be a problem or anything, I'd really like that." The skeleton returned your smile and shook his head as he stood up, "Of course, it's not a problem. Not in the slightest," he paused, tilting his head and playfully winking at you, "especially not for a human as lovely as yourself."

Your blush darkened a small bit and you looked away from him, trying to tune out the way he chuckled at having been successful at flustering you. As he turned and exited the room, you let out a deep breath that you weren't even aware you'd been holding; sure, you'd only just met Valence, but he was such a gentleman to you. He was so gentle and considerate, and his magic was beautiful. He was also quite attractive now that you thought about it. His smile gave you butterflies and his eyes (eye sockets?) were mesmerizing, and there's no way you could forget that sexy British accent he had. You blinked. Wait, what was happening right now? Were you seriously developing a crush on him? He was a stranger, but he'd also saved your life, too. As thoughts raced in your head, you failed to notice as he appeared in the doorway, a small plate in hand that held a fork and a piece of cake. Seeing that you were lost in thought, he briefly paused to admire the look on your face. Excitement bubbled up in his very soul, and he grinned to himself; he'd saved you once, but before the day was over, he'd save you yet again.

He quickly rearranged his expression, his smile smaller and more genuine in appearance as he approached the couch and cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he offered you the slice of cake, "Here's your cake. The tea is almost ready, and I can bring it to you once it's done." You accepted the cake and couldn't help but smile at him again, "Ok... thanks Val. I really appreciate you doing all this for me." The skeleton waved off your words, nearly beaming at you as he returned your smile, "Oh, don't mention it. Anything for such a darling human." Your cheeks flushed again and your smile turned shy as you sheepishly refocused your attention on the piece of cake. Val was quick to vanish from the room again and you grasped your fork, slicing off a small bit of the cake and popping it into your mouth. As it hit your tongue, your eyes widened in pleasant surprise and you practically moaned at the flavor. It was perhaps the best cake you'd ever had in your entire life.

So not only was Val your savior that happened to be attractive and sweet, but he was also a great baker too. Talk about a catch.

You'd eaten about half of the slice before you began to notice the way heat coarsed through your body. You repressed a tiny mewl as it reached your core, causing you to press your thighs together. He wouldn't have done something to cake… would he?

As Val crossed into the living room again with two cups of tea, your scent invaded his senses and he inhaled deeply, nearly purring in delight. There were no words to describe how amazing you smelled right now, but it left him wanting to just... eat you right up.

He settled on the couch beside you, leaning forward to set the cups of tea on the coffee table, his sudden movement making you jolt in surprise as you looked up at him. He cleared his throat, offering you an apologetic smile, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." You shook your head and sighed, offering him a slight smile in return, "N-No, it's alright, don't worry about it, Val." Noticing the way you tried to be very subtle with your squirming, he feigned concern, frowning, "Are you alright, human? You're all red, and you don't look so good." Shaking your head, you hummed, "Nah, I'm ok... just a little warm, that's all."

To your confusion, he swiped your piece of half eaten cake from you, setting the plate beside your cup of tea before gently capturing your jaw, making you unable to turn away from him. Lifting his free hand, he delicately rested it on your forehead, as if checking to see if you'd caught a fever. With him being in such close proximity, you fought the urge to kiss him. Sure, you just met him, but in your current state, kissing him felt like something that needed to be done. He hummed, sliding his hand from your forehead to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he met your gaze. That was what destroyed your last bit of self restraint. Without a warning, you leaned closer, pressing your lips to his teeth and kissing him. As expected, he momentarily tensed in shock, but then to your utter delight, he began to kiss you back. It wasn't long before his teeth coaxed apart your lips, allowing his cyan tongue to pass through and greet yours.

As the kiss grew more heated, you whined, fisting at his shirt and fumbling with the buttons on his vest. You'd managed to undo maybe half a dozen before he broke the kiss, letting you catch your breath. While you watched him, your eyes clouded with obvious lust, he reached out, lifting one of the cups of tea and offering it to you, his slightly hushed voice now holding a husky edge, "Drink, darling. It'll help you cool down." You whined, squirming in your seat as you caught the tone he spoke to you in, "B-But Val... please. I need you-" Grinning shamelessly at you, he chuckled, leaning closer to peck your lips, "And you can have me. Drink some of your tea first though." Though you would've liked for him to forget about the tea and take you right there on his couch, you nodded slowly, almost pouting as you accepted the drink.

Raising the cup to your lips, you took a sip, your eyebrows raising in surprise. Once again, you'd not expected the flavor of what he'd handed you. Humming in curiosity, you glanced up at Valence, "What kinda tea is this?... It's really good, Val." The skeleton watched you as you took another sip of your beverage, "Golden Flower." Blinking, a realization hit you and you raised an eyebrow, visibly interested, "Wait.... as in 'Golden Flower Tea'? The tea that Asgore supposedly loves?" He hummed in confirmation, "Exactly so. I'll say, I'm a little surprised you know about that old goat and his tea preferences." You smiled bashfully, shrugging and taking another sip, "Well... yeah. When the monsters came to the surface, I did my research. I wanted to learn what I could, y'know?"

He nodded in understanding and offered you a playful grin, "So you're a bit of a nerd then, it seems." You rolled your eyes, lips still curled into a smile as you flicked your tongue at him, "Yeah, maybe I am. Is there a problem with that, mister?" You made sure to make it clear you were only teasing, and in response, Valence laughed softly, "No, no. Of course not. For a nerd, you're actually really cute." Your cheeks immediately gained a bright blush and you squirmed in your seat, smiling sheepishly again. He watched you quietly for a moment, allowing you to continue enjoying your drink before he spoke again, still smiling slightly, "If you read about Asgore and his love of Golden Flower Tea, I wonder... did you happen to read anything about what the tea is made from?" You hummed, tilting your head and nodding, "Mhm. Isn't it made from the seeds and stems of Golden Flowers?" The skeleton nodded, arching a brow bone as his grin suddenly became mischievous, "And did you learn about what'd happen if the petals were used, too?" You paused, furrowing your brows, "Doesn't it become poisonous?..."

Something flickered in his sockets and he purred in satisfaction, "Right on, Cutie." You opened your mouth to question him but froze, pressing a hand over your mouth as you began to cough violently. You reached out, intending to place your cup on the coffee table, but both of your arms went limp, causing you to drop your cup and spill what was left of the tea on the floor. Unable to force your body to cooperate, you slouched to the slide, now leaning against Val. He sighed, feigning a look of concern again as he tsked, reaching into the breast pocket on his vest and withdrawing a handkerchief, lightly dabbing it along your mouth as he hummed, "My my, look at you... you're making quite a mess of yourself, you know." As he pulled the handkerchief away from your mouth, you glanced down, your eyes widening in fear and beginning to water up as you took notice of the red that now stained it. Unable to lift your head to even look at Valence properly, you whimpered, a tear rolling down your cheek, "W-Why, Val?... Why would you do this to me?..."

The skeleton hummed, merely smiling at you, "Because I'm a little overdue on paying my debt to the lovely family of lake dwellers that have allowed me to live on their land." Your voice cracked, and you tried your best to force back the impending need to cough again, "Y... You're using me to pay off a debt?" In a much too cheerful tone, the skeleton monster gave you confirmation, "Pretty much, yeah. Don't take it personally though, ok? I like you. If I didn't, I would've killed you sooner, and I wouldn't have been so nice about it."

Your eyelids began to feel heavy and you croaked, "How does killing me pay off that debt?" He merely smiled, lightly cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb, "They're a bunch of human eaters." Your mind replayed the look that the first skeleton you encountered had worn and a chill ran through you, "But the tea... It'll poison them too." He chuckled, lowering his voice to a murmur, "No it won't, silly. It doesn't affect monsters the way it does humans. Guess you didn't get the memo, huh?" You felt yourself break, letting out faint sobs as you tried to look away from him. Reading your expression, he sighed, "Come here, darling. Let me ease your suffering a bit." You wanted to shove him away and scream, tell him to get lost, but as the world began to fade away before you, the last thing you felt was his teeth against your lips

#writing #Valence Bandersnatch #he's officially a fanservice boy #have fun with the sexy british bastard man #nep.exe #hhhhhh #i have no idea how to tag this #rip #the LV is strong with this one #undertale #undertale au #skellies art

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ckret2 · 5 years ago

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Eddie Eats A Map

Written for @symbruary Day 11: "romance". Featuring Morbius again because I've been meaning to bring some Venom/Morbius into the world for forever.

Honestly this is less "actual romance" and more "being friends and also there's secret attraction that might be one-sided" but like... it's pre-romance. Also Eddie mentions being married to symby so there's your romance. Also this was supposed to be two scenes and the second scene was going to have more romance but then this got long, I'll use my Free Space day to write the second scene or something.

My friends, I've never read an issue actually set in Monster Metropolis, my description is based off the wiki and posts I’ve seen other people make on it. Please forgive any inaccuracies.

###

Eddie studied the crude map.

"I'm trusting you with this," Morbius said solemnly. "Both not to abuse this information and not to let it fall into the wrong hands. Memorize and then destroy the map—"

Without bothering to check if anyone else in the 24 hour diner was looking their way, the symbiote stretched Venom's mouth across Eddie's face and they stuffed the map into their maw.

Morbius froze mid-sentence, mouth open behind his disposable face mask.

Venom slurped down the fang-shredded paper and then grinned at Morbius for just a second before their fangs receded back into Eddie's face and their skin melted and oozed back into Eddie's pores. Eddie wiped some green slime off his chin with his thumb and took a sip from his mug of hot chocolate, smirking.

Morbius glanced around the diner to make sure nobody noticed—the whole point of Morbius's wearing a mask and Venom's keeping their slimier half stored on the inside had been so that they could meet on the street level without immediately being pegged as monsters—but the other three late night/early morning diners looked half asleep at their tables and the waitress was boredly watching her phone. Morbius turned back to Eddie and stammered, "Yeah, that—that accomplishes the task. But you shouldn't do that again."

"You were saying?" Eddie prompted, digging into his omelet. "About Monster Metropolis?"

"Right." Morbius tried to collect his thoughts. "This city has already suffered more than its share of traumas. Just a few years ago it was nearly destroyed. I know all you've done to help and protect the dinosaur-people—the Moloids have brought a couple to the metropolis and they speak very highly of you. I know you can keep this metropolis secret as well."

Eddie nodded, slowly lifting a bite of omelet to his mouth. He didn't comment until he'd swallowed. "I’m not sure we like how you say 'can,' there. Like you know we can but aren't sure we will."

Morbius hesitated. "Not everyone in this metropolis is what you might personally consider 'innocent.'"

"Ah."

"But we protect them anyway," Morbius insisted. "Not from the consequences of their actions, but from the persecution based on their nature that they would face on the surface. When they cause trouble, we handle it internally. We won't have our city exposed to the surface world again and its cruelty again. I'm asking you to agree to that much."

Something in Eddie's expression shifted at the word persecution. Morbius was sure he had his empathy then—hopefully the other's, too, although it was hard to tell. In all the times Morbius had overheard Venom talking to themself, he couldn't recall ever hearing them disagree with each other; but surely it had to happen; and he was well aware that, as often as they agreed, their thoughts weren't identical. Why would they need to talk to themselves at all if they were?

And every once in a while Eddie said something in a slightly different voice—it wasn't as obvious when Venom spoke, but it was when Eddie spoke—and Morbius got the impression that he wasn't sharing his own thoughts so much as conveying something his other had asked him to say. He didn't think in those moments the alien had actually seized control of Eddie's vocal cords to speak its on mind, just asked Eddie to speak for it; but the difference was still audible.

When Morbius was around Venom, he had long since gotten past the eerie feeling that an uninvited third party was listening in on a one-on-one conversation, and instead moved on to the entirely new eerie feeling that he was having a conversation with two people but one of them was dead silent except to occasionally whisper in the other's ear.

"We notice you gave us the map before checking whether we'd agree to your terms," Eddie said. "And you're not getting the map back. Why the show of trust?"

Morbius had been hoping Venom wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth. But, since they'd asked... "For three reasons," he said. "First... if I'd been considering this a few years ago, before you two..." He puzzled over the appropriate wording for a moment. "Separated?" He thought broke up might sound too intimate.

But Eddie nodded in confirmation. "Temporarily separated to work on our marriage."

Marriage. That word hit heavily. He pushed his own reaction aside. Oh, okay, he should have leaned toward more intimate. Talking to Eddie and his other was a constant exercise in reminding himself to underestimate the nature of their relationship a little less. "Before you temporarily separated, I wouldn't have given you the map. But the person—people?—that you are now, I believe I can trust with it. But I'm having to take it on faith that you're going to keep being who you are now rather than who you were then. If you get my meaning."

Eddie smiled tiredly. "Believe me, that's what we want, too." He sighed. "All we've ever wanted—before and after our separation—is to be a hero together. It's... just been a process getting there. You know," he shrugged, looking down at his half-eaten meal, "had to work on ourselves a while, had to work on our relationship..."

Morbius nodded, trying to look less mystified than he was from wondering what an alien goo had to work on. He supposed anything with sentience and emotions must have personal issues worth working on—he just couldn't imagine what they actually were. That silent third participant in the conversation he knew so little about. "The change is evident. Both from seeing you in in the news and from talking to you."

Eddie smiled sheepishly. It wasn't a common look on his face. "I'm going to take that as approval of where we are now rather than as an indictment of where we were then."

"That's how I meant it."

"Good."

"And second," Morbius said, figuring they were probably more than ready to move on from even this relatively gentle critique of their (comparatively) wild days, "Monster Metropolis is, first and foremost, a haven for the nonhuman people that humanity considers monsters. And your other is nothing if not seen as a monster. If it ever needs somewhere safe to run, I want it to be able to find the metropolis." Morbius didn't know a lot about what Venom was doing when they weren't in the news—and even then, their newsworthy appearances were less in-depth interviews and more cryptid sightings—but he got the impression Eddie and the symbiote spent more time than either would like getting violently separated and scrambling to reconnect. That wasn't easy when you had to live a life restricted to dark alleyways and deep tunnels. Maybe Monster Metropolis could make it easier for them to find each other again—or at least give the symbiote a haven where it could hide and a community that could help it locate its missing home/partner. "Of course, you're welcome there too, Eddie, I don't want to slight you—but Monster Metropolis does primarily exist for the monsters."

At first, Morbius thought Eddie had flinched; then realized it was more of a ripple, his very skin itself—or something under his skin—stirring.

"What is it?"

"Was that visible? Sorry." Eddie picked up his hot chocolate again, noted it was empty, and picked up Morbius's. (Morbius had thought he should order something to look a little less strange, and Eddie had told him he wouldn't mind a second drink.) "You uh, surprised us—particularly my other. It's not used to it being the one to receive the invitation and me being its 'plus one' guest. In fact, it usually only happens when someone in a lab coat wants to prod it a while and hope that a superpower falls out." Eddie had that voice on—the one Morbius thought meant he was reporting the symbiote's thoughts rather than his own. It sounded just slightly more professional—like a journalist reporting a paraphrase of someone else's statements rather than giving his own opinion. He took a sip before giving Morbius a wan smile. "You got a Nobel for some kind of biochemistry thing, right? You wouldn't happen to be doing any kind of research that might benefit from an amorphous alien that can alter its host on a cellular level, would you?"

Morbius would be lying if he said he'd never wondered if there was a distant chance the symbiote might be able to help with his own condition—but he certainly wasn't wondering it right now. "I'm inviting you as a guest, not as a test subject." He meant that comment directed to the symbiote, not to Eddie—would that be obvious to them? Was it even appropriate for him to speak directly to the symbiote? It was much easier, psychologically speaking, to direct comments to the person visibly sitting in front of him as though asking Eddie to pass the message on; but the symbiote was sitting in front of him too. Why should he speak to Eddie instead of to it?

Eddie twitched in surprise again. For a moment, the surfaces of his eyes were covered in porcelain white and his grin was filled with sharp teeth. Message received, apparently. "Every once in a while, we meet a scientist we can trust. We think you're probably one of them."

"Thank you. I'd like to be."

Eddie's face was back to normal when he returned to his omelet. "So what's the third?"

"The what?"

"You said there were three reasons you gave us the map?"

Oh right he had said that. He shouldn't have said that. "Yes—right," he said. "Third. I've found that I... Your company is pleasant, when we cross paths." He was careful to understate just how much he'd found himself growing fond of their infrequent meetings. He wasn't sure how welcome a full confession would be. ("Our marriage," Eddie had said. How literal was that? Morbius had already assumed Venom came as a package deal—Eddie and symbiote both—but the word "marriage" implied a certain level of unavailability, didn't it? Not that his hopes had ever been high—nor his expectations even fully conceptualized—but...) "But we only cross paths rarely—and usually only when one crisis or another has driven us outside our usual haunts. I thought it might be nice to... hang out outside of work, as it were?"

Eddie snorted. "You don't look like the kind of man who tends to 'hang out,'" he said. "You don't even look like the kind of man who says the words 'hang out.'"

"You—don't look like the kind of man who drinks hot chocolate," said Morbius, stupidly, mainly so that he had some kind of retort.

Eddie considered that, then shrugged, as if to say fair enough. "You like our company enough that you're willing to risk your monster sanctuary over it?"

"No," Morbius said sharply. "I'm willing to risk it for the first two reasons. Still, your company is... a contributing factor."

"Huh." Eddie drank down the rest of his hot chocolate. "Flattering."

Morbius grimaced. (He was glad for his mask.) He thought that could have gone over better.

"Guess we'll have to make a visit soon then. Are you going to be around in the next few days?"

That had gone over better than he thought. "I don't have a set schedule, but I try to visit the metropolis at least a couple times a week."

"Sounds like our schedule. The hard lives of busy heroes, huh?"

Morbius wouldn't have picked heroes as the first word that fit the three of them—monsters, more likely—or freaks—but there was something comforting about the fact that Venom did. Even if their history with heroism was somewhat checkered. "Afraid so."

"Well, we'll keep swinging by when we're free. Eventually we'll both be around at the same time, right?"

"Eventually." Morbius was well-known enough in Monster Metropolis that Venom would be able to just ask around to find out whether he was in town; and Venom stood out enough, even among monsters, that Morbius would be able to just as easily ask about him.

"Sounds like a plan." Eddie turned and waved his hand, catching the waitress's eye. "Hey. Separate checks, please."

"You want me to pay for the hot chocolate you drank?"

"You ordered it," Eddie said, smirking. "We're halfway to broke and we're also paying for an omelet, you can cover a hot chocolate."

Morbius gave him an affronted look. But he sighed and dug into his pocket for his wallet when the waitress dropped their checks off.

Once she was out of earshot again, Eddie asked wryly, "Regret saying you want to hang out with us yet?"

"No," Morbius said, "although you do a fine job of trying to make me regret it at least once per meeting."

Eddie smirked again—this time, the fangs were back. "I guess we'll have to keep trying."

###

Like I said I planned two scenes but uhhh, it's late. Next one in the next few days. Anyway this is a fine standalone piece, enjoy.

Crossposted to AO3, link in my description. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog.

#venom #symbiote #eddie brock #venom symbiote #morbius #symbruary #fanfic #my writing

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crazycat-88 · 5 years ago

Text

Male Demon Jiki x Male Reader (NSFW)

Here’s a story with a male demon and male reader. It is my first non-series story. Was meant to be really short but I got a bit carried away.

Anyway I hope you enjoy it.

Wordcount: 1,880

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Sitting at your table, you smirk as you see your demon familiar take a can of whipped cream from the fridge and spray it straight down his massive maw.

‘‘Keep doing that and you'll get fat Jiki,’’ you say smirking, teasing the demon.

Stopping, he glares at you, then suddenly laughs, ‘‘Demons don’t get fat… not like you pathetic humans.’’

You glare at the demon not liking what he’s insinuating. Sometimes you wished you could find a way to get rid of him, but one of your ancestors had tied him to your family line so thoroughly that you didn’t think it possible. When you had accidentally broken that amulet you had found three years ago in your attic, you never expected a demon to be released. Being stuck with him wasn’t always awful though, he was useful, occasionally, despite all the arguments, fighting, and non stop torture he liked to inflict on you.

‘‘You know… this stuff is so good, you could put it on anything and make it taste so much better,’’ Jiki grins.

‘‘I seriously doubt that,’’ you say, frowning as you watch him throw the can he’s holding somewhere behind him and grabbing another out the fridge.

‘‘Oh? You don’t believe me? Let me show you then,’’ he says, grinning suddenly.

Next thing you know, you are lying on the kitchen floor, somehow half naked, with the demon straddling your thighs.

‘‘What the fuck … Jiki?’’ you say shocked, staring up at the demon.

Grinning, Jiki holds up the can of whipped cream, giving it a shake, then spraying it across your bare chest. You cry out as it hits your chest, it’s freezing you think, surprised at the demons actions. You watch incredulously as the demon leans down and licks it up.

‘‘Mmmm... yummy!’’ he growls, as he continues to lick around your chest and over your nipples, with his stupidly long tongue.

Your in shock, just laying there stunned, hardly believing that this is actually happening. You have desired this demon for ages... Yet, you suspect he’s just doing this to torture you. You’re tempted to struggle, push the demon away, demand he stop. But… you also want him to continue, so you lay there unmoving, waiting to see how far he’ll take this.

‘‘You taste so… good,’’ he growls, tongue trailing down to your abdomen, swiping above the top of your boxers.

‘‘There isn’t even any cream there…’’ you mumble, unbelievably.

Jiki looks up at you smirking, before letting his tongue swirl under the top of your boxers. Your eyes widening, you grab one of his black horns, pushing him away. ‘‘What are you doing Jiki?’’ you ask.

‘‘I’m trying to seduce you,’’ he frowns. ‘‘You do want me don’t you?’’ he asks, all four eyes blinking.

You do, you really do you think as you stare at the demon biting your lip. With four red eyes, slitted pupils, six black horns, long jagged teeth, pitch black skin and a long black tongue that seems never ending, he looks like something that would crawl out of someone’s nightmares.

Not yours though, you think to yourself, you find him absolutely beautiful, from his head to his broad chest, four arms, slim waist, pointed tail, and thick thighs, all the way down to his taloned feet. But… he’s just messing with you, isn’t he?

‘‘Why? Why are you doing this?’’ you ask, shaking your head, not answering his question.

‘‘Because I want you… I’ve always wanted you,’’ he growls, snarling like he doesn’t really want to admit it. He starts to pull back, rising up, and you grab at his hips, stopping him.

‘‘Why now?’’ you ask him softly, staring into his eyes. In the three years he’d been with you, he had never once hinted that he desired you.

‘‘...At first I hated you… hated your family, hated humanity… then I… fell for you…’’ he says, fists clenched. You frown seeing his long sharp claws are digging into his palm. ‘‘I didn’t want to of course, but you… you’re different to the ones before… even if you reject me now… I know you won’t seal me away in a fucking trinket,’’ he continues, snarling viciously.

You stare at him in surprise, eyes wide, he had never told you how he ended up sealed away, refusing to give you an answer whenever you asked, but now you wanted to know. ‘‘Is that how you ended up sealed in that amulet… you tried to seduce someone?’’ you ask.

‘‘She seduced me actually…’’ he chuckles. ‘‘I didn’t even want her, not really… it was just a bit of fun for me… but then in her shame of bedding a demon, she ran to her mother claiming I had seduced her… and she sealed me away…’’

‘‘I’m sorry…’’ you tell him, not sure what else you can say. You knew he’d spent over two hundred years trapped in that amulet, completely aware but unable to do anything… What could you say to make that better.

‘‘You weren’t even born, there's nothing for you to be sorry for…’’ he says, ‘‘Unless you’re planning on rejecting me now?’’ he asks, running a claw along the band of your boxers.

Shaking your head, you tell him, ‘‘No… no I want you too.’’ You watch as he looks at you for a moment, searching your eyes, then he grins widely, tongue lolling out his mouth. His eyes roam down your body, his claws taking hold of your boxers, he looks at you again asking silently for your approval. Nodding your head, you raise your hips, allowing him to remove your boxers.

You lick your lips nervously as he stares at you, completely exposed to his gaze as you are, you can’t help but feel self conscious.

‘‘Look at you…’’ he purrs, kneeling between your thighs, ‘‘So beautiful.’’

‘‘You’ve seen me before,’’ you say, chuckling breathlessly.

‘‘Not like this…’’ he purrs, taking your cock in one of his hands. He’s only ever seen you flaccid, when he’s popped into the bathroom uninvited as you’ve been showering. You’ve been half hard since he straddled you and now you’re quickly rising to full mast as he grips your cock, slowing working his hand up and down.

You soon stop thinking altogether when his tongue slips out and coils around your cock. Your eyes have clenched shut at some point, and you force them open to look down at him to see him watching you with a grin, drool dripping down from his massive maw. You throw your head back with a groan knowing he’s enjoying seeing you come undone by his hand.

You cease to care when his tongue leaves your cock and starts working its way into your tight pucker. You cry out and try to buck your hips but he uses two of his hands to hold you still, raising you slightly off the floor. He withdraws briefly to move, throwing your legs over his shoulders stretching you wide.

Hooking your ankles around his neck, you moan and beg for him to continue. Grinning at you he takes your cock in one hand, and strokes you a couple of times, before his tongue sneaks back into your now slightly stretched hole. You cry out grabbing at his horns, as his tongue hits your prostate over and over. Hearing him growl, you look at him to see that he has one of his arms down between his thighs and he’s jerking it rapidly with his eyes squeezed shut. Your view is obstructed unfortunately and you can’t see his cock but you know you want it.

‘‘Jiki,’’ you moan, ‘‘Stop… Oh…Please stop.’’

He does immediately. Dropping you gently back to the floor, he looks at you confused, tilting his head, ‘‘What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?’’ he asks frowning.

‘‘No… no, I just… I want you inside me,’’ you say swallowing, feeling painfully hard.

‘‘I’m not sure you could take me…’’ he says blinking.

Looking down at his cock, you see what he means, he’s huge. He’s as girthy as your forearm and just as long, tapering down slightly to a pointed tip. Mostly pitch black in colour with a bright red tip, you see that he also has ridges and is dripping with his own natural lubrication from a slit that has appeared at the top of his legs.

‘‘I want to try,’’ you say, looking up into his eyes.

He considers you for a moment before standing, leaning down he grabs you up and carries you to your bedroom. ‘‘If we’re going to this, I want to do it in your bed,’’ he explains.

Nodding you agree, and as he lays you down on the bed, he kneels between your thighs again. Lifting your hips slightly with his lower two hands, he places his tip at your pucker using one of his upper hands. Lifting one of your own hands, you take hold of his cock and give it a couple of strokes. Jiki growls and moans rutting up against you. Grabbing your hand he takes it in his, clasping it. Using his only hand remaining, he lines himself up and with just his tip, enters you with a groan.

‘‘Tell me you want me,’’ he demands.

‘‘I want you… please Jiki,’’ you beg, moaning.

Removing his hand from his cock, he takes hold of your other hand, and starts rutting up into you, watching your face carefully, making sure you aren’t in any pain. You’re not, you feel nothing but pleasure, and moan his name loudly.

He starts moving faster, panting harshly, entering you as far as he can go. ‘‘I don’t… I haven't in so long… I won’t last long this time…’’ he groans.

‘‘It doesn’t… matter…’’ you moan. ‘‘I’m so close… Jiki… faster, please! ’’

He starts bucking up wildly, moaning and growling, speaking in an old language you’ve never heard. You try to keep up with the speed of his thrusts but he’s now moving to fast for you. Suddenly his tongue lolls down and coils around your cock. You cry out in a silent scream, coming all over his tongue. You watch blearily as he coils his tongue back in his mouth swallowing your cum down his massive maw.

Panting heavily, you watch as he snarls and growls before coming inside you with a roar that makes your ears ring. His seed his hot, and he fills you so full, it immediately starts dripping out of you. He falls heavily to your side, breathing heavily, and holds you to him tightly. It’s a while before either of you can talk, but he catches his breath faster than you.

‘‘It’s been a long time since I came like that,’’ he says, voice hoarse.

Nodding your head, you manage to respond, ‘‘Me too.’’

Clasping your face in his hand, he turns your head to look in your eyes, ‘‘Are you regretting it yet?’’ he asks, his voice quavering.

‘‘Never!’’ you gasp, shaking your head and clasping his hand. ‘‘I’ll never regret this… I love you Jiki,’’ you tell him, staring into his beautiful but strange eyes, knowing you speak the truth.

Jiki blinks, searching your gaze, slowly he smiles and hugs you to him, ‘‘I love you too, my precious little human.’’

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Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, don’t forget to reblog it. Likes/Comments are also appreciated. Come follow me for more stories like this and feel free to chat.

My Masterlist

#exophilia #male monster #male reader #male demon #monster/reader #male/male #demon/reader #reader inserts #my writing #My OC’s #my characters

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banditchika · 7 years ago

Text

tsugu voice: world hard and cold... tiddy warm and soft

fandom: bandori

words: 2035

pairing: tsugusayo

ao3 link

"You're not going home after this, Hazawa-san?"

"Ah, no. I don't have to be home until later tonight, so I wanted to go to Edogawa! Ran-chan's guitar strap is wearing thin, so everyone wants to surprise her with a new one."

"I see... will you be meeting up with your members?"

"No, I don't think so. Moca-chan has a shift, Tomoe-chan's doing something with the dance club, and poor Himari-chan's feeling a little under the weather, so it should just be me."

"Oh." Sayo looks away, the soft curl of her hair hiding her face away. Tsugu takes the time to admire the sharp line of Sayo's jaw and how the tendons in her throat tense when she swallows.

Sayo is pretty. One of the prettiest girls Tsugu has ever met, and considering her friends, that's quite a statement to make—but it's a true one. Sayo doesn't stand out as much as the rest of Roselia does, even in her flashy stage outfit, but there's no overlooking her no matter how subdued her style is.

Tsugu likes her lean frame and long limbs and long hair—and she remembers how Moca had laughed when she had admitted as much, grinning the way she always did when she was about to cause trouble.

("Waa... you really pay attention to Sayo-san, huh? But Tsugu," she said, waggling her finger. "I think you missed one other long thing."

"What?"

Moca poked at her chest. "Your heart, longing for Sayo-san~")

Tsugu presses a hand over her chest, cheeks warming at the memory. If her heart is pounding faster or slower, or longing for Sayo, she isn't able to tell. Perhaps it had been when she'd rushed out of the house, determined to make it to the station five minutes early like she always did, only to find Sayo leaning against a pillar, hands folded in front of her and eyes closed in frustration—or, as she'd later realize, contemplation. And okay, she had been really nervous when Sayo picked up the cute ribbons and bags Tsugu liked with an expression like she'd just been asked to swap places with Ako on the drums.

But now, with their date (wait, no, it's not a date! Their platonic outing) nearly over, Tsugu's heart isn't racing at all. Unlike the intense guitarist onstage or strict older sister that Hina-senpai sometimes whined about, the Sayo she saw today is kind and open and vulnerable, just like she remembers from the sweets classroom.

Sayo is beautiful and soothing, and Tsugu's heart might not be racing or doing any longing as they're walking to the station, but it does feel full. It feels full, but light too, as though it could take flight and lift Tsugu up with it out of sheer happiness.

She smiles at her feet. This is a new feeling, but not a bad one. She always thought that maybe she was... was a little slow. Moca and Ran had been together for as long as Tsugu can remember, so it wasn't much of a surprise when they started being together. Tomoe and Himari took a while longer, but they managed it, and Tsugu had been so happy when she realized.

She'd been happy, but she had also felt alone.

Himari sometimes spoke of butterflies, fluttering feelings, and all sorts of colorful things that Tsugu's sure she must have pulled from a mature novel. It's kind of a relief to be able to understand that now. Not everything Himari told her is true—Tsugu's toes definitely don't curl whenever she brushes by Sayo, that's kind of weird—but enough of it is. Tsugu feels like she's finally been let in on an inside joke, or given admission to an exclusive club after years of watching Moca, Ran, Tomoe, and Himari attend without her.

It's nice. It's really, really nice.

"Hazawa-san?" Sayo's voice jolts Tsugu from her thoughts.

"Ah! Y-yes!"

Sayo's brow is furrowed, lips pressed together in irritation—no, wait, thoughtfulness? That's a thinking face, right? "Would you mind if I accompanied you to Edogawa? I think that," she clears her throat, "some of my music magazines have new releases today. I want to read them before our next practice."

Tsugu's cheeks grow warm. "Of course! I'd love your company."

Sayo smiles at her. Her smiles are never very wide, just a brief curve of her lips and the occasional flash of teeth. Tsugu thinks that, in a way, she's kind of like Ran, who tucks her face into her collar or shakes her hair low over her eyes before it's obvious that she's grinning. They're not very open people, but no less caring for it. Ran writes her love into their songs, and Sayo's eyes, on the rare occasions that she smiles, are always unfailingly warm.

... Just like Tsugu. Goodness, was it always this hot? She presses a hand against her face under the guise of brushing her bangs from her eyes, hiding her flushed cheek from Sayo's sight.

She's always blushed easily and has never particularly minded, but when she's around Sayo, it's like she can't seem to stop. It's kind of... not good. What if Sayo thinks she's sweaty, or has a fever? Himari likes to squeeze her cheeks, cooing about how soft her skin is, how rosy, and how cute her dimples are!

But Tsugu doesn't think Sayo would be so easily swayed by dimples or rosy cheeks. If she thinks Tsugu's sick, she might end their meetings early and head home so Tsugu can 'recover'; or worse, notice her blushing furiously while they're making pastries and think that she's contaminating the food with her illness, or something!

Tsugu spends the rest of the walk to the station furiously recalling her memories of the sweets classroom. If Sayo thought she was gross, she wouldn't have agreed to meet up, right? So it's probably just all in her head—unless it isn't? Sayo is very proper. Maybe she didn't say anything so she wouldn't be rude? But no, Sayo wasn't the type to try to spare people's feelings—and the way she smiled when they brought their matching wrapping bags had been so, so genuine that Tsugu almost couldn't look. So really, Tsugu's just overreacting!

"Hazawa-san!"

"Ah! Yes!"

Sayo points across the street, at the station. A train is pulling into the depot. "That one's ours. Let's hurry!"

"R-right! Of course!"

The crush of people by the stop is almost claustrophobic. No one's touching each other, not really, but an aura of anticipation crackles from body to body as every person, from office worker to mother to middle school student, eyes the train's doors. The energy is palpable; every person in the depot knows to carefully, orderly rush into the train as soon as they can, funneling into a neat triangle with just enough room for the previous passengers to stream out in their own miniature triangles.

Tsugu knows how this will go.

Knowing doesn't make it any easier when the doors slide open and she's walking not out of her own volition, pushed by the crowd behind her into the train's maw. She digs her feet in, craning her neck to keep Sayo in her sight, but it's hard. Tsugu's not the tallest person, after all, and there are so many people. What if she loses Sayo? What if Sayo gets in the train, but Tsugu can't? What if she's left all alone—

A cool, dry hand clamps down on her wrist. Sayo glances back at her only once, then fixes her eyes forward, shouldering her way past the doors and tugging Tsugu in after her.

The seats are all gone, of course. The other passengers, long accustomed to this routine, line themselves up along the sides of the train and grab onto whatever they can. The movement of the crowd pushes them further into the train, cramming people in so tightly that, paradoxically, it feels like the crush of bodies is the only thing keeping everyone upright.

Someone jostles Tsugu and pushes her into Sayo, who shifts back to accommodate. She blinks down at her with her cool, bright eyes.

"Are you alright, Hazawa-san?"

"Yes! Don't worry about me!"

"Hmm." Sayo's eyes don't leave hers, and Tsugu can feel the beginnings of a now-familiar blush burning its way over her cheeks. Which is fine. The train's stuffy and crowded, warm from the number of bodies inside it despite the air conditioning—Sayo will attribute it to that, if anything.

Sayo breaks eye contact first, glancing up at the steel poles lining the train's ceiling. One of her hands is fixed around a bar, securing her against jostling and bumpy train tracks. Tsugu, on the other hand... "But you don't have anything to hold onto, do you?"

"Well, no..." All the spots with access to actual straps have been taken, and Tsugu is too far from the bars stretching from ceiling to floor to cling to them. And, well. Forget about being able to reach the bars on the ceiling. "It's okay! I've got pretty good balance..."

"Nonsense. That's unsafe." Sayo looks around, glowering ferociously. When no one pays her any mind, she sighs and plants her feet, digging her shoes into the grain of the floor.

"... Sayo-san?"

"You can hold onto me."

"... Um?"

"Please? It's not safe to ride without holding onto something." Sayo looks determined, almost fierce—a grim sort of determination evident in the set of her jaw and the gleam in her eyes. But there's something else too, something that Tsugu wonders if she's imagining.

Is that... is that a blush?

"Please, Hazawa-san." Sayo glances at the train's doors, sliding shut. Tsugu nods mutely. She isn't sure where to put her hands; maybe Sayo's shoulders? They do seem like very nice shoulders, but holding that position for an entire train ride is a bit... ah, but she can't just hold onto Sayo's shirt, either. For one thing, it's not very secure, and it'd be just awful if Tsugu gripped too hard and tore it, or something!

The train creaks, then rocks into motion. Sayo barely budges. So do the people who are vertically-endowed enough to grab onto the bars, or who'd managed to snag themselves a strap to cling to.

Tsugu, unfortunately, is none of those things, and stumbles forward into Sayo's chest as the train rushes along its tracks. Her arms lift instinctively, wrapping around Sayo's waist in an attempt to steady herself. Tsugu freezes. Sayo stiffens.

If she thought holding onto Sayo's shoulders would be intimate, then this is something else entirely. Tsugu's practically tucked under Sayo's chin. She would be chest to chest with her if only she were a little taller. She can feel the warmth of Sayo's body, a stark contrast to her cool hands and solemn face.

This is a lot. This is so, so much. Every rock of the train pushes her into Sayo, making it impossible to put space between them even if Tsugu wanted to. The people around them sway with the movement of the compartment; there are no gaps between their bodies for Tsugu to settle herself in, no way for her to fit.

Her cheeks are on fire. The fabric of Sayo's shirt feels rough against her skin, and Tsugu can smell the scent of her perfume, sharp and crisp. She doesn't think she'll be able to forget the scent even after the train's stopped or after she's found her way home.

Feeling the steady rise and fall of Sayo's breathing and the rumble of the train beneath her feet is wonderful. A small part of her, mortified and deeply embarrassed, thinks that the Edogawa stop can't come soon enough. But mostly, Tsugu doesn't want this train ride to end; doesn't want to let go of Sayo, doesn't want to run into her at CiRCLE and only be greeted with Sayo's usual politeness.

This is what she wants. To be pressed against Sayo, close enough to pretend that she's being held; the steady clatack, clatack, clatack of the train tracks; and the sound of a heartbeat against her ear, too quick and too loud to be her own.

#bandori #tsugusayo #hazawa tsugumi #hikawa sayo #peents writes #guess who's back.... back again...#anyways this is. well #it surely is something!! other than a clear indication that i have no self control

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megabadbunny · 7 years ago

Text

if we let go (4/?)

I.e., Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. In this chapter, she and the metacrisis Doctor choose just how vulnerable they’re willing to be with each other.

***

rose x ten, rose x tentoo; a journey’s end fixit (of sorts), dedicated to @travelingrose , whose very good questions reignited my love/hate relationship with this episode/storyline, and to @goingtothetardis, who kept me encouraged while writing (thank you dahling!!! <3). (i believe this also fills some rose x tentoo / tentoo day / tenth doctor month prompts from @timepetalsprompts and @doctorroseprompts .) heavy angst, but also lots of flirting, fluff, romance, some adventure, and some smut; sfw versions on tumblr & ff.net, nsfw versions on ao3 and teaspoon. this chapter is where the nsfw stuff officially kicks in.

***

chapter four: what it is and where it stops, nobody knows

He isn’t surprised by the shrieks that pierce the night air. If anything, he’s surprised it took so long. He is, however, shocked at the sight of Rose, stumbling bleary-eyed into the galley, jacketless and bare-footed.

(Was she sleeping? Where? Just how tired is she?)

It’s not like he forgot she was here—how could he?—but the fact that she’s back onboard the TARDIS still gives him a jolt somehow, like plucking bacon straight out of the sizzling-hot frying-pan and managing to be astonished when it burns your hand.

“Can I help you?” the Doctor asks.

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Can’t say I’ve tried.”

Rose blinks at him, confused, eyes narrowed against the bright galley light. “Oh,” she says, realizing. “You’re—the other you.”

The Doctor bites back the sarcastic response hiding behind his teeth. “That’s right,” he says instead, downing a gulp of his coffee. It’s black, bitter, and it might as well be jet fuel. He grimaces. “The other me.”

Another cry rings out, and Rose shivers, hugging herself against an invisible chill. “Actually, I wanted to ask—that isn’t Donna, is it? Making that noise? She’s…she’s not in pain?”

The Doctor softens a bit at that despite himself. For all her claims of change, beneath that tough new battle-hardened exterior, Rose is still Rose—tender-hearted and compassionate, sometimes to a fault. Gods, he’s missed that. She and Donna would have got on splendidly.

“No,” he replies. “She’s still in stasis. Can’t feel a thing.” He holds up his medscreen for Rose to see, the stats and figures from Donna’s wrist transceiver blinking across the tablet surface. “I’ll know the instant that changes, if it changes.”

Rose pales in horror at the sound of the next gut-wrenching shout. “Oh my god,” she says, instantly alert, all traces of sleepiness evaporated in a millisecond. “The other Doctor—what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s all to be expected.” He swallows another mouthful of the tar in his mug and frowns in distaste. Dreadful stuff, coffee, but tea seems just a little too indulgent at the moment. “Time Lord memories in a human brain, remember? Or human enough, anyway.”

“Is he gonna have the same trouble as Donna?”

“No, no, nothing like that. Got enough of my original genetic material to keep all his grey matter from leaking out.” He drinks in a deep breath. “Now, the nightmares, on the other hand…”

He trails off, because Rose has got that look on her face, and maybe it’s been a few years (or a few centuries, feels about the same), but he still knows that look, still knows it exactly, the someone-is-hurting-and-I’ve-gotta-do-something-about-it look. Which is a problem, because if he knows himself like he thinks he does—and unfortunately, a millennia is more than enough time to get to know yourself, your few good qualities and many, many flaws alike—this will not end well, not for anyone.

“Rose,” the Doctor says warningly, but already she’s padding out of the gallery, her footfalls echoing softly in the corridor.

The Doctor swears under his breath. “Wait,” he says, louder, pushing up from the table so hard his chair slams to the tiles with a thwack. He sprints after her, but by the time he reaches the hall, Rose is already meters and meters off—she’s faster than he remembers somehow, or is that just one more way that she’s different from before?—and he shouts, “Just leave it alone, Rose. Trust me!”

Not the most brilliant choice of words at the end there, he thinks when she doesn’t stop.

***

Fire, fire everywhere and—

burning

(red-hot white-hot iron and copper and pennies, steel, metallic and cold-boiling in his mouth)

Skin, bonding in nano-increments, cells knitting together over bones grown solid and if he could, he would double over with the pain of it, the unbearable hurt of becoming real

“What are you whinging about?” Harriet Jones asks, arms crossed over a gaping black hole in her chest. “At least you got a new heart out of all this.”

(real isn’t how you are made, said the skin horse, it’s a thing that happens to you)

I’m sorry, he says, or tries to say, but he hasn’t got a tongue yet, just rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth tearing the insides of newborn cheeks

Laughter, and when he looks up again, past the blood-red haze clouding his fetal eyes, the Harriet-thing is grinning, skin stretched too-tight over a Halloween-store-parody of a skull. “Absolutely the same man,” she says, words dripping with disgust

and the faintest hint of something ruby-red—

“I never asked for it,” he spits out as soon as words can take form in his mouth. “I can’t count you amongst my many sins.”

Curling in on himself, a ribbon that twists and cramps and contracts, muscles rippling under the skin; raw fingers scratch themselves bloody and reach stretch break into the

(does it hurt? asked the rabbit)

(she opens her maw and entire galaxies float inside, suspended in midnight-black ink, rainbow-swirling like an oil slick)

“No, no,” he begs (wheezes; throat is parched and cracked and dry; xtonic radiation is a cruel and cowardly bitch)

(Please Susan please please please help)

“What do you expect her to do?” asks Rose, circling a protective arm around his granddaughter (what’s left of her, anyway, blurred and wet and staining Rose’s shirt). “She’s just as dead as the rest of them.”

Tear ducts form just in time for salt to well up in his eyes, burning his cheeks, holy water scorching clean in blistering trenches

(galaxies dissolve one-by-one and he can hear feel smell taste every one of them dying, rotting-sweet dead flowers dirty crumpled five-pound notes ash in his mouth)

Hand new and complete and he reaches out but Donna is there instead, and he watches, helpless, as she falls in agonizing slow-motion; it would almost be funny except wait it is funny he is laughing he is laughing he is laughing so hard he cries why can’t he stop

crawls over to her prone body, crumpled on the grating, dying over scattered galaxy crumbs and sputtering embers and he turns her onto her back, and something black is where her eyes should be, overflowing and staining fire-red hair

“I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out, but she can’t hear, the black stuff swells up in her nose and her mouth and her ears and it burns everywhere it touches, eating away at her skin and her hair and her cut-up leather jacket (and oh, the fit she would throw if she knew)

(it doesn’t happen all at once, said the skin horse, you become. it takes a long time)

(Doctor, she says, and her voice sounds funny and far-away)

“No, no, not that,” he pleads. “Anything else—”

She turns what’s left of her skeleton-face toward him and she screams

“Doctor!”

Air sharp in his lungs like a knife and the Doctor can’t get enough of it, gulping and choking until he thinks it might gash his throat.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, it’s just a nightmare, it isn’t real—”

Hands on his chest, smaller than his but familiar, but they’re gone, she’s gone, all of her, and she’s never—

Frantic knocking against his ribs and he wonders if he’s ever been in a place so dark before, ever witnessed anything that ate the light like this. One of his hands slides beneath those on his chest, checking, and—yes, there it is. One heart, just the one. Damn.

“Doctor?” says the voice again, quieter this time. “Are you awake? Are you all right?”

Oh, god.

Impressions of the nightmare slowly fade, blinked away like the remnants of too-bright lights splashed across the backs of his eyelids, and the darkness in his room dissolves bit by aching bit. He can just make out the shape of someone else in his bed, silhouetted by the dim light leaking beneath his bedroom door. Too murky to make out any details, but she’s haunted his subconscious long enough that he would know her anywhere, unmistakable in any form.

“Rose?” rasps the Doctor, his voice rough from shouting (crying?).

“Yeah,” she says, fingers curling in his tee-shirt. “I’m here, with you. Remember? And everything’s gonna be…”

The Doctor doesn’t hear what she says next—blood rushes in his ears, pins-and-needles and a high-pitched whine and a thick thump-thump-thumping; cold sweat beads on his brow, and he fights the nausea threatening to wash over him. Forcing his breathing to slow, he pushes up in the bed. He can feel her staring at him, feel her concern. Relief and embarrassment rise up in equal measure, searing-hot fluid in a thin-skinned blister.

“Please get out,” he pants.

Her hands stall on his chest. “Doctor?”

“Please,” he says, brokenly, knuckles scraping the tears from his cheeks. He curses himself for ever letting anyone see him like this, for ever allowing himself to be so shamefully pathetic. “You never should have—I don’t need you here. Get out.”

The Doctor can practically hear Rose’s heart hardening at that.

Her next breath is tremulous, watery. “Fine.”

The bed jostles with the force of her movement, bedclothes twisting as she crawls over them and gropes semi-blindly for the edge of the mattress, and the Doctor realizes she actually listened to him this time. Really, properly listened—and she’s really, properly going. Now the panic rushes in, and the guilt, settling heavily at the pit of his stomach. Please no please don’t go please don’t leave please…

“Wait,” he calls hoarsely after her, but her feet have already reached the floor. “Rose—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Tell a girl Get out enough times, eventually it gets through her thick skull.”

He springs out of bed just in time to grab her hand before it can twist the doorknob. “Rose, stop. Please.”

“Why? Planning to call up any other regenerations to come spit in my face?” she snaps, her back turned to him. “How about my first Doctor, the one who died on the Gamestation? Want to bring him on over so he can have a go at me, too?”

Her shoulders are tense, hard as flint as the Doctor places his hands on them, gently nudging her until she turns around to face him. Her entire body quakes beneath his touch and he suspects that, just like him, her shivering has got nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

“I fought so hard,” she says plaintively, and the Doctor doesn’t need to see or touch her face to know she’s crying now. He can hear the tears thick in her voice, feel the sobs wracking her frame. “It’s been years, Doctor, and I tried—I thought about trying, settling into a life over there, and I could’ve, there were times I wanted to, I had friends and my family and a good job and there were blokes and a girl and I could’ve—but I couldn’t—not after all the things I did, and if you ever knew—and I just missed you so much, god, I missed you, and I thought—if I tried hard enough—”

Laughing through her tears, Rose shivers even more violently. “God, I’m stupid.”

“Not true,” says the Doctor firmly.

“I am, though,” she says with a sniffle. “I don’t know what else I expected. I mean, it’s not like I thought I’d come back and you’d scoop me up in your arms, or, I don’t know, profess your eternal love for me, or whatever. I just thought, I hoped we could pick up where we’d left off, just the two of us, and Donna too if she wanted, back out in the stars, and I thought, maybe, one day, if I was really, really lucky, maybe you would—”

He cuts her off with a kiss.

She stiffens against him, body going rigid under his hands, and he knows he’s being rude, or unfair, or possibly terribly unchivalrous; definitely something Donna would smack him for, and he wouldn’t blame her. And it’s messy, salty, wet, her tears viscous and sticky on Rose’s cheeks and her lips and now on his as well. But it’s warm, too, in a way that makes him dizzy, his chest expanding, his blood thrilling in his veins. And hopefully Rose can find it in herself to forgive him, because right now he just doesn’t have the words. He can only hope, desperately, that his actions will speak loudly enough in their stead.

(And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about this since these eyes first saw her.)

Eventually Rose relaxes in his grip, pulling back with a soft gasp. “You don’t have to do that,” she mumbles.

“Do what?”

She thumbs the tears off her face. “Give me anything out of guilt. Just because you think I want it.”

He nods. “All right.”

He kisses her again.

A strained little whimper rises in Rose’s throat and she snakes her arms around his neck and before he knows it, his arms are responding in kind, wrapping around her and pulling her body flush with his. She’s still shaking but it’s more of a buzz now, something he can sense in his skin, creeping into his skull like a rush of alcohol. His body floods with warmth as her tongue tentatively brushes his lower lip and a flash-vision pops into his mind, detailing how he could push her up against the door—

Suddenly he’s gone a bit jellylike in the knees and the Doctor breaks the kiss with a shudder. The room feels like it’s spinning around him.

(He’s relieved to hear he’s not the only one struggling to hide breaths gone ragged.)

“You…” Rose says, and swallows. “That’s cheating.”

“Never said I’d play fair,” the Doctor replies, step-stumbling back until his legs hit the bed. He sits down, grateful for the support.

Rose doesn’t budge from the door, so the Doctor holds out a hand—can she see it in the almost-black, can she tell he’s reaching out for her?—and after a few horrible moments of nothing, her warm little palm slides along his. She lets him draw her in, and he has every intention of wrapping his arms around her again, comforting them both with a solid, lung-squeezing hug, so he’s surprised when her hands reach out and cup his jaw, tilting his face upward. He wonders if, perhaps, her night-vision is better than his now, if she can see the nervousness and hope written across his features, but soon it’s apparent she’s seeing with her hands; her thumbs stroke the apples of his cheeks, tracing the edges of his sideburns and working up to his temples. His eyes flutter shut at her touch and he fights not to lean into it, like a cat. Fingers tangle in his hair and nails scratch lightly against his scalp and he can’t stop the hum that escapes in response.

He pulls her down for another kiss and he doesn’t mean it to be such a needy thing, so desperate and harsh and hungry, but the way her lips part almost immediately makes him suspect she’s every bit as starved as he is. She deepens the kiss and his tongue chases after hers. Dizzy with want, he clutches at her hips, he’s just got to touch her somewhere, anywhere she’ll let him, he needs to feel her, soft and solid and safe, but she’s still so far away, still oceans and oceans between them—

The Doctor doesn’t even try to hold back a sigh of relief when Rose clambers into his lap, pressing herself against him. The weight of her is warm and reassuring, the frantic pit-pat-patter of her heart against his a welcome rhythm.

“I don’t play fair either,” says Rose, and she kisses him fiercely before he has a chance to reply.

Afterward, she slumps against him, panting. Eyes shuttering closed, he wraps his arms around her, losing himself in the gentle rise and fall of their chests as their breaths slowly calm. But eventually Rose stirs in his arms, sitting back on his lap; the Doctor imagines if he could see her face in better detail right now, her eyes would be glazed, blinking heavily. He suspects his are doing much the same.

He feels like he should say something, but his breathing is too thick to allow any words out of his mouth. At least, that’s what he tells himself; the truth is, he’s still too stunned by the idea of Rose sitting in his lap to really register anything that’s happening right now, or anything that’s happened in the last few minutes, for that matter. A not-unpleasant buzzing sound has filled his head, pairing nicely with the numb feeling suffusing him below the waist, and it’s just a bit difficult to think past it all.

Rose wriggles off his lap, both of them wincing, and she walks off toward his en suite, fumbling for the light-switch in the dark. Soon she finds it (impressive, considering she’s never been in here before) and searing yellow-white light lances the Doctor’s vision, blinding him with its brightness. Moments later, the Doctor is surprised by the sensation of something soft hitting him in the face. He blinks out the light, confused, pulling a flannel from where it fell in his lap.

“Figured you might want to clean up,” Rose says from the doorway to the en suite. She’s not wrong, and oddly considerate—but something about her sudden frankness and neutral tone sets panic thrumming in the Doctor’s system all over again.

She’s not just going to up and leave after all that, right? Surely she wouldn’t?

The door to the en suite closes, leaving the Doctor alone in the darkness once again, frozen. Slowly, amidst the sounds of flushing and washing-up, he tidies up. The fresh, clean flannel is a blessing on his skin, but it isn’t enough to soothe the anxiety roiling in his skull, especially when the light turns back off and Rose comes out and, quietly, heads straight for the bedroom door. The Doctor wants to ask her to stay, but the words seem wrong, somehow, almost childish, and at any rate, they’re stuck in his throat.

Hand on the doorknob, Rose hesitates. “Did I push you?” she asks, her voice small.

“No,” he answers quickly, thankful that his tongue finally works again. “No, not at all.”

She sighs in relief. “And you, erm. Would you rather I left you al—”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Good.”

The mattress dips beneath her weight as Rose crawls back into the bed, and, his weary brain just a bit slow on the uptake, the Doctor follows after, sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them, just in case Rose wants it. But he soon learns he needn’t have worried; the second his head hits the pillow, Rose snuggles up against him, tucking her head beneath his chin and insinuating one leg between his. Surprised, but nonetheless pleased, the Doctor pulls her into his embrace, wondering how in the universe he managed to be the lucky sod she’s curled up against tonight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Rose mutters sleepily into his chest.

The Doctor startles out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“What happened to Donna. It’s not your fault.”

It’s stupid, really, how quickly the tears spring up behind his eyes. He grits his teeth until the pressure fades, his fists clenching tightly in Rose’s tee-shirt. He has half a mind to untangle himself from her, to get up out of the bed and throw open the doors of the TARDIS and scream at the universe until his voice grows hoarse and his throat bloody, but the other half of his mind gently points out how Rose’s breathing has already evened out, how relaxed her entire body is next to his, how warm and soft she is in his arms. How she’s here, with him, now, despite everything.

With a tired exhale, he nuzzles into Rose’s hair. Fruity shampoo, expensive perfume, the faintest tinge of chemicals from her hair dye all greet him; marveling at how natural it all feels, the two of them close and quiet like this, he breathes it in, committing it to memory, just in case. He closes his eyes and, inch by inch, lets himself loosen.

She’s wrong about Donna, of course. But it was still nice of her to say.

***

Previous: Chapter Three | Next: Chapter Five

#timepetalsprompts #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #tentoorose #tenrose #travelingrose #goingtothetardis #so for anyone who is concerned and doesn't mind mild and vague spoilers #i swear the tenrose stuff is coming on down the line #definitely some angsty setup to get through first but there will be payoff #rose loves all of the doctor and he loves her with everything he has #even if things are complicated between them right now #and even if there are two of him #lolol #but i wanted the story to be about choice--for everyone involved--and i wanted to show the events leading up to those choices #i promise this isn't going the route of 'ooh ten's such a meanie no wonder rose will choose tentoo'#everyone just needs time to adjust and ten in particular needs to pull his head out of his arse #also #like wow i just got so eager to start posting this that i did not plan things super well #apparently i repeated chapter titles?#so that's been fixed #and also i had a thought that i would split this up into two parts #it seemed to make sense at the time #but now i'm like #why?#so anyhoo thank you for your patience to everyone who's sticking with me and my weird edits and odd decisions and terrible update schedule #i love you all passionately!#<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 #mbb fic

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