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hollyhomburg · 7 months

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Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

“Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

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cozymoko · 2 months

Note

Ohh!!! Can i have fruitykawa with a reader who's kind of insecure about their relationship with him? Like,yes she's aware that they are married and all,but Fruity is such a wealthy (and handsome) man that surely there are alot of women around him. It makes her feel upset and tries to distance herself from him.

🌕 anon

ALWAYS, MY BELOVED

It's been a while since I updated. Shoutout to my homie, 🟡 anon for this request. Kinda got burnt out at the end, but I tried my best. Enjoy~!

Pairing: Hachiro Furukawa x Female! Reader (1.9k words)

Format: Headcanons, mini scenarios

WARNING(S): yandere themes, jealousy, insecurity, mentions of cutting (plastic surgery).

Synopsis: Hachiro Furukawa, my oc, with a wife who's insecure due to him being so handsome! (≧∇≦)/

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

NAVIGATION 🍮

Being WEDDED to the BEST is not for the weak-spirited. You had to appear stronger — better than the average woman so that they wouldn't dare question the legitimacy of your place. With your status, a ring costing nothing less than a fortune would never be enough.

Your marriage had become public only a few years ago. Due to Hachiro's wishes. Yet that didn't seem to stop many promiscuous women from testing their luck. You bit back the unladylike words bubbling in your throat as they approached him. Fluttering their long lashes and flashing their pearly white teeth.

Models, lawyers, entrepreneurs: the party was bustling with so many. For a moment, you felt like nothing more than a pretty little accessory.

“Mr. Furukawa, how nice of you to make an appearance!” The host's eyes shift to you, thick and clouded with disdain. “It's a joy you brought the misses with you this evening.” The snarkiness of his tone was palpable. It seems the host wasn't exactly a fan of you, but then again, who was? After all, no one bothered to hide their curious gazes when Furukawa was not within earshot. But all you could do was hold your husband's arm just a little tighter.

The women especially.

"Is that Furukawa? Isn't he just dashing!"

"Wah~! He's even taller than I imagined!"

"Do you think he'll drink with me?"

Tightly sewn dresses, embracing the ladies that adorned them. Various warm shades painted lightly across their lips. Bouncy twists and swirls curled into their hair. Bedroom eyes peering over the many men scattered across the room; married or not. It's safe to say you weren't exactly pleased that your husband was one of the few.

You often hid yourself behind layers of lovely fabrics and excellent posture, in hopes of maintaining your modesty. In your eyes, it only seemed right that you matched the appearance and aura of that of your Husband. Though it seems each and every day was a torturous test of your self-restraint.

Nonetheless, you were never one to lose your composure. A straight face was essential in any type of business setting. Sure, you weren't as deadpan as Furukawa, but you could definitely play the "cold wife" role perfectly.

RECENTLY, you've had QUITE THE OBSESSION with FASHION. You have encountered plenty of upcoming entrepreneurs, many of who you've managed to befriend. One of your closest ones is a fashion designer.

She would soon be introducing her new line of work after months of a troublesome hiatus. So, after pulling a little bit if strings, you were able to help her out. By strings, you mean asking Hachiro for some assistance. With his support of the project, people were bound to come and see the clothes. Granted, he was skeptical of your request, it didn't take him long to break and give you what you want.

That evening, the two of you attended an induction ceremony for the company's new clothing line. Hachiro had no reason to attend, but the grin on your face was much too difficult to resist. Just knowing that he made you happy warms his heart immensely. You were the cutest.

But, all good things, of course, come to an end.

“Oh, my! Look who decided to grace us with his presence.” A woman with rosy lips approached the two of you, swaying her hips a bit too much for your liking. “Hachiro, dear, it's been so long since I've seen you!”

Even other women didn't dare to acknowledge you, especially in the company of Hachiro himself. He didn't take kindly to people dismissing your presence. But this girl, definitely had some guts.

“Inoue,” he hums languidly, watching her in masked disdain. “I'd rather you not address me so informally in such a public setting.”

That's right, KAMIKO INOUE, one of the top models that had recently taken Japan by storm. You were expecting her appearance after Hachiro's announced sponsorship, but her rudeness surprised you a bit. Especially her addressing your husband as though they were closer than friends.

You scoff, looking away from the two. Seeing how you'd much rather watch them set up than listen to Inoue's mindless flirting. Hachiro placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. But you couldn't dare look into his tender gaze, knowing of the possessiveness bursting within your chest.

She giggled, “How silly of you, Hachiro!” She reached her manicured hand out to grab his free arm just for him to grab her by the wrist.

“Please refrain from touching me so familiarly, Inoue. I'm a married man, and I'd be simply overjoyed if you would respect that.” He gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes, before pulling you flush against his chest.

A bright red bloomed across your skin at his affection. Hachiro never showed too much PDA. "You have a photo shoot to attend to, no?" He asks coldly. "Me and my wife will be sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.

That soiled your mood for the evening. Snatching the genuine smile from your lips and replacing it with one faker than the plastic on that whore's skin. For once in your life you were truly feeling vulnerable.

YOU had CONTEMPLATED GOING UNDER the KNIFE more times than YOU CARE to ADMIT. Not for your own pleasure, but the sake of your sanity. You didn't know what you'd do if you saw another beautiful woman talk to your husband.

Even in your youth, he was the center of attention. He had captured the hearts of many girls from various levels of wealth. You would know as you were one of them. But you were in no way richer or as elegant as the others who approached him. So why did he choose you? You asked yourself.

That night you had taken the guest room. It felt cold and quiet. Absent of the usual scratching of pens and occasional shuffling of papers you had grown accustomed to. The pleasant rumble of his chest as he attempts to entertain you whilst working. But you couldn't bring yourself to lay by his side with such heinous thoughts roaming your mind. You were able to fall into a long, dreamless slumber. But not without the company of a few heavy tears and a single question.

Were you selfish?

From that day, you didn't bother answering his calls, whether it be morning or dawn. You didn't bother visiting him during those long hours he slaved away at the company, though many times you truly wanted to. You didn't bother to allow your personal driver to pick you up, and if he tried, you merely snuck out of the house.

Any and everything reminded you of him, and that alone rendered you to tears. While he was away, you didn't allow yourself to be another burden pestering him on his business trip. You couldn't allow it.

AND IT WAS ALL DRIVING HIM CRAZY.

THE FLIGHT HOME was DREADFULLY SILENT. Aside from the tapping of someone's sleek dress shoes. Hachiro had not so much as uttered a word since boarding the plane, nor did he intend on it. For if he did, nothing kind would leave his mouth. Perhaps a, "hurry up," or two — or three. But all of it was for the sake of his sanity.

Hachiro needed his wife, desperately.

You slip through the large double doors, entering your bedroom with wary steps. It was quiet, as expected, and without your presence, it felt almost dead. A week had passed since you last drowned in the warm duvet. A week had passed since you relished in his scent nestled deep within its silk. And oh how you missed the smell of him. Finally, at peace, your shoulders dropped. You took a seat on the edge of your bed. Under your confident front, you were only one person. One person with one mind; though you usually had two. Hachiro and your own. But your pride didn't allow you to confine in the man you loved. What were you scared of? Being shamed, or perhaps laughed at — scolded? Though none of it seemed likely, you could not shake the feeling of embarrassment that held you on a tight leash. CREAK! You jumped, startled by the sudden weight pressed against your back. "Thank God you're safe," your heart swelled at the sound of his voice. The voice of not a stranger, but a lover — a partner. Hachiro grabs you by the chin and lifts your face up. You quickly recoil away in shame, praying he didn't get a peek at your messy face. The need to prove yourself had increased tenfold, you couldn't allow yourself to falter in his presence. “look at me, [Name]," he whispered softy. Hachiro lifts your head once more, swiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. "You're crying? Tell me what's troubling you. I can help you, [Name]."

And just like that, you broke. Loud, anguished sobs tore through your throat. Your stomach fluttered at the familiar smell of citrus and mint. You couldn't get enough of it. His arms were warm and comforting, and you couldn't deny the safety you felt by his side. His embrace was stronger than anything you've ever known, as if holding him wasn't enough, you held him as though he were your lifeline. It wasn't your intention to tell him, but you just couldn't help it. Each and every thought was placed on the table. The insecurities that you felt bestowed before him. The people you despised and envied slipped past your lips without thinking. All while Hachiro cooed sweet nothings in your ear, promising you his loyalty until his last breath. “God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered, running his thumb through the swollen flesh of your eyes. His usually cold eyes burned with something you couldn't possibly describe. “I can hardly control myself sometimes.” You stared at him dumbfounded — in utter disbelief. His glasses must've been dirty, you thought. Your hair was a literal wreck. And the past couple of weeks had not been too kind to your skin. Small breakouts peppering your cheeks from stress; bags that could carry at least a ton of sorrow nestled beneath your eyes. Surely his vision was just a little blurry. But upon further inspection, you couldn't spot not a spec of dirt on his lenses. Upon your lack of response, he hums, leaning in a bit closer. “I'm serious, dear.” You huff, burying your face into his neck as your skin takes on a feverish shade of red. Damn him for being so attractive. You felt like a high schooler all over again. Smiling softly, you held him closer. “You're the best, Hachi.”

Hachiro sat awake by your side, gently stroking your back with easy motions. His lips had found themselves on your warm skin. And his heart beating vastly at the things you had confessed to him. The possessiveness you had experienced for him. The jealousy and anguish that had consumed you on his behalf.

Of course, he never wanted to see you upset, but seeing how you value him makes him a bit selfish. Just seeing you made him snap a little on the inside. His rational mind fought for control over his need to have you, to prove his love to you. But he decided against it. He would be sure to show you how deeply his love runs on a later occasion. But for now, he settled for cradling you in his arms. Promising to take all those bitter emotions away from you.

“Good morning, Japan!” Shouted the host. “It's come to our attention that Ms. heartthrob Kamiko Inoue has quit the modeling industry after a life-threatening accident!”

“...HUH!?”

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bizbat · 7 months

Note

Those Jason crush hcs were so funny (obvi they were cute too) butJason getting so embarrassed he tried to crawl outside with 4 bullet holes and half his blood outside his body was such a mood. Me too dude. Can we have some more of him being delulu about his crush? It was so deliciously embarrassing and funny. What would happen if his wifey/husbando was just boldly was like- “Jason we're not dating, why would you think we were? We're not even having sex?”

EVEN MORE! When They're In Love Headcanons - Jason Todd

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Fem terms used for reader.

~ Mild smut alluded to but nothing explicit.

~ You can find parts One, Two, and Three here!

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ This is gonna be mostly fic bc I am running out of ideas lol. This took an inappropriate amount of time to write omg

~ Jay is kinda toxic so Tw: Unhealthy Relationships Dynamics, mentions of having children, slight violence, Jason is a freak and reader is tired.

By now, I've made it clear that this man is deep in the delusion.

But I haven't really gone into detail in what I mean by that.

I mean he'll say something teasing in jest, and if you reciprocate that energy even the tiniest bit, he will take that and run with it.

Though that's not even solid, bc if you take everything he says literally, he'd still think you're playing along.

Jason could make a joke with someone and not gaf about their response, but you could say the exact same thing as the person he joked with and he'd get heart eyes.

So far, I've kinda been writing with an oblivious reader in mind but a reader who knows all of Jason's delusions would pretty interesting lol.

You'd probably overhear him talking to Roy or Dick about your "date" last night.

Read: He broke into your apartment while you were at work and surprised you with chinese takeout when you got home.

I think if you confronted him about his delusions, he'd be willfully ignorant, and act like he doesn't know what you mean.

~ Drabble Starts Here. ~

Lian seems so happy, you can't bring yourself to be the bearer of bad news.

You're sat beside the little girl at her even littler table, the handle of a plastic teacup loosely gripped between your thumb and forefinger, your pinky high up in the air. The smile on your face is sincere as she mindlessly babbles, pouring sugar water into your cup.

You can't help but grimace when she encourages you and her stuffed animals to drink up, and you can't help but feel like the girl is being somewhat malicious when she seemingly starts interrogating you, only to push the cup of surgery water back to your lips whenever you to to answer her litany of, frankly, over-personal questions.

Some of the questions you don't mind, they're about as pure and unassuming as the pink princess tiara laying crookedly atop her head. It's when she asks if you and Jason are gonna get married and have babies with the most deadpan face you've ever seen on a child, that finally makes you choke on the (syrup) water.

"Excuse me?!" You ask, wiping away the mess on your face with a embroidered napkin and desperately trying not to hack up the rest of the beverage, undissolved grains of sugar still residing in the back of your throat. "Why would we do that?" You manage between coughs.

Lian glances towards Jason, who is sat at the table across from the two of you, his knees tucked up to his chest, as he hides his face behind his miniature teacup, though it's mostly ineffective, as the cup looks like a shot glass in his massive hand. Lian innocently looks back to you, as if you were the one who'd asked the more confusing question.

"Uncle Jay said you were dating. Isn't that what happens when people date?"

You crane your neck as you slowly turn your head towards Jason, who is avoiding your ice cold gaze like his life depended on it. "Oh, really?" You ask Lian through gritted teeth, though your gaze is solidly planted on Jason. "Did he now?"

"Mm-hmm," The small girl cheerfully nods her head, the dark braids framing either side of her face swinging from the force of her enthusiasm. "He told me you guys were gonna have a bunch of kids so I could have more people to play with!"

You can't help but stare incredulously at the child as she explains. By now, Jason's put down the cup, giving up at his attempt to hide behind it and simply covering his mouth with his hand, sitting silently like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he waits for you to start chewing him out. But it never comes.

"You are, right? I really want more friends." Lian's pleading is almost enough to make you change your mind and agree right there. Almost. As if sensing that she hasn't fully convinced you, Lian continues, going on and on about how she would be a really really good big sister or cousin if you had babies, or how much she's always wanted to go to a wedding, and how pretty you'd be as a bride, and-

She knows better than to continue when you gently raise your hand, as if you're silently saying "That's enough, Lian, please stop talking." You do feel a little remorseful as the girl's once happy demeanor changes to a shyer, more somber at the apparent rejection. You sigh and roll your eyes, finishing of the tiny cup of, what is now, pure sugar. "Maybe someday, Lian."

You put your hand up again, bracing her for the next part of your sentence when you see her start to get riled up again. "But absolutely no promises. Uncle Jay and I need to have a very important conversation later about it, though." That's enough to please Lian, as she goes right back to asking you other invasive questions that have nothing to do with your love life.

Jason, though happily surprised by your answer, stays silent over the next few hours. He honestly forgets you were ever even mad at him to begin with. It's not until you leave and the sky turns that familiar dark red, that you punch Jason in the arm as hard as possible, which, in all honesty, he can't really feel.

Though he does wince and hold his arm in the place where you hit him, to keep your ego intact if nothing else.

"What was that for?!" He dramatically gasps, pouting as he rubs the "sore" spot on his upper arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognize it's kinda cute that he plays into your delusions. Just a little.

"Why would you tell Lian of all people we're dating?!" Your hand subtly clenches by your side, though you try to hide the slight pain punching him gave you, at the end of the day, Jason was raised by a detective. "Why would you even say that when you know it's not true?!"

"First of all," He starts, grabbing your hand. "I tell everyone we're dating." He starts soothing your sore knuckles as he tugs you towards your apartment building. He's so confident as he speaks it's genuinely bewildering. "And second, we are dating."

When he sees the utterly gobsmacked look on your face he continues. "We go on dates," (he just shows up at your home once a week. "We get gifts for each other," (he got you a stray kitten he rescued off the street and he steals your underwear). "We have sex-"

"Okay, number one: No we don't," You say, holding your hand out in front of you just like you did with Lian. "Number two: No we don't," You can almost see his eyes glaze over. He listens to every other thing you say, but when you're telling him your not together? That's when he tunes out.

"And number three: that only happened once!" It comes out a harsh whisper. Your face and ears feel hot with embarrassment, but Jason just shrugs. "Three times, actually, but who's counting?" Jason has a sweet, intentionally dopey looking smile.

You're left speechless by his demeanor. "Just kiddin' . . . I'm counting." He thinks the awkward, bewildered silence is hilarious. So he just keeps talking. "I mark it down in my calendar . . . Celebrate it once a month . . . Might get the dates tattooed."

"Jason." You interrupt.

"Hmm?"

"Go home." He looks over and realizes you're both in front of your apartment door, having talked the whole way. Again, he shrugs, pulling a spare key out of his pocket and moving to unlock your door. "Oh my fucking g-"

"What?" He stops, holding up the key midair. "What's wrong?" "Jason," You groan, rubbing your temples. "Why do you have a key to my apartment?" By now you shouldn't be so surprised, but you are. "Oh, this?" He hold up the key, equally confused that you would even ask. "I had one made when we started dating. How did you think I get in for our dates?"

He can almost smell the exhaustion wafting off you at this point. "Plus I live here."

"Jason you don't-"

"I'm just busy! I know, I know, I should be home more, but when I'm blah blah blah." No longer unused to his inane ramblings, you unlock the door and push past him. You don't even stop him when he follows you inside, still going on about his delusions. You just roll your eyes when he takes of his shoes and jacket and tosses them aside like they he really does live there.

"You shouldn't make dinner, you've had a long day, we can order-"

He's interrupted by yet another sigh. "Jason," you begin, plopping down on the couch. He shuts up and listens intently to every sound coming from your mouth. "I just . . ." You sit up straight. "You don't live here, you're a stalker, and we are not dating." Jason nods as you talk, slowly, as if he's taking in what you said.

"I . . . I understand. I really am sorry I've upset you, but," He kneels on the ground in front of you, gently placing his hand on your thigh. "I am not a stalker." He's incredulous, and you're tired. At this point, what more can you do beside oblige him and his delusions. You sigh again, a deep, deep sigh that instantly drains you of the rest of your energy and makes you deflate into the couch. "Okay, Jay," You say, undressing as you stand and begin walking back to your room. "You win, you're my boyfriend. Goodnight."

Jason just happily nods as he watches you walk to bed. "Yeah, yeah, I win." He's just happy you finally came to your senses. "Night!" He happily calls after you.

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd headcanons #dc x reader

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hotchfiles · 8 months

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ on my mind since the flood ❞ ─ a darling, in any life blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader. summary: the red thread between two people destined to be together may stretch and tangle, but those ties will never break. or: a 45min train ride makes two 43 year olds feel like teenagers. content warnings: divorce babes, divorce. kinda spoiler-ish. watch the 3rd season before. the reader has a backstory and a job, if that bothers you grow up don't read. word count: 960+

Your hair was different, that was the first thing he noticed.

Much like himself, you had soft wrinkles beginning to show up on your forehead and around your eyes, a gift from your late thirties that kept on giving. Your eyes were the same though, he could recognize those anywhere at anytime, even if it had been decades since the last time they stared back at his. Your nose, your lips. Your smile. The way his name sounded coming from your tongue. It was all extremely familiar, as if he was fifteen again.

"You're staring, like a creep, airhead." The old nickname rolls out like you had spent merely seconds apart and it makes him laugh, it has been weeks, maybe months since he last laughed genuinely like that, with his whole face.

"I just got lost—" In your eyes. "In my memories for a bit. You look so much the same."

"Well, my pay check won't allow me any plastic surgeries so—"

"Wise ass." And there it was, like a reflex, his own nickname to you leaving his lips before he even thought about it, if he did think about it he probably would've held it in, a 43 year old FBI agent using childish nicknames not being the best look, but it didn't feel like that with you, at all, it felt natural. You both laugh at it for a second and a comfortable silence follows it, but Aaron couldn't keep it like that, he needed to know more, where have you been, what were you doing... Have you been in Virginia for long? He kept it as casual as he could considering his curiosity, "How have you been?"

"Alright, good, yeah. I’m teaching at Scalia, started this year, I want to keep practicing though, but I’m gonna settle down in Virginia first." You shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. You were purposefully leaving details out, you had seen him on TV a lot since coming back to the states, FBI, profiler. You wanted to see how much could he get from you without words. "What about you, mister FBI hotshot?"

If you two were still teens the way your teasing came out would've made him blush, and quite frankly if he wasn't so self controlled maybe he would've blushed right now, he did feel warm, but instead he just let a chuckle out of his throat, "Well, FBI hotshot just had his divorce finalized, not that glamorous being in these shoes." You already knew what he was doing with his life, it made sense to give the only actual news he had, "Scalia? Law degree too, then." Aaron clicks his tongue, not holding back the instant smirk the realization brought. "Your mother used to say we were so similar we shared the same brain, remember?"

"Welcome to the club, then! Meeting every Friday, membership perks only after the second one, though." His eyes went straight to your fingers, seeing the lack of any rings he nods to himself. Twice divorced. Dark heavy coat, makeup accentuating your features, red lips, hair pulled back. You care about being seen, and desired, but don't want to be approached, a teacher-lawyer, no time, a lot of perfectionism. "Yeah, I stay far away from criminal. Civil and International Law cases mostly. Families, divorces, cross-board custodies." A child of divorce trying to save other children of divorce. Very typical behavior.

Aaron felt like he could stay like this for hours on end, sitting by your side uncomfortably on the train after fate pulled you two to one another again, hearing you tell him about your life in London, your divorces, your time in college. You made him feel young, like you were still his childhood best friend who he fell for. Like if he were to kiss you like he did when you were both thirteen you would still blush and grip tightly on his shirt. Nostalgia was indeed a bittersweet thing.

"I think when you moved away was the last time I openly sobbed." He shakes his head, the thought leaving his brain in a quiet, hushed voice tone, like a secret he wasn't supposed to be telling. It had been years, you were both fifteen when your parents got divorced and you were taken to England with your father. 28 years since the last time he saw you, and he still can feel the same pain if he thinks too hard about it, the way his heart felt like was being sliced apart, getting smaller by the minute as your father's car got further and further away. His mood soured in a way his feelings were only able to function normally again after meeting Haley.

Your hand softly touched his with the confession, your thumb going to his palm and drawing small comforting circles, "I cried myself to sleep a lot that year." Aaron glued his eyes on the way your hands touched, and you thought he might reject it, find it weird after so many years, but instead he just closed his around yours tightly, a silent thankful prayer to the universe, mixed with the warning that he had no intention to let go.

You both stay like that as you talk the rest of the ride, cellphone numbers and e-mails are exchanged, along with longing glances beginning to make you shy like the school girl you once were, when you fell for him the first time. You often wondered what would've happened if you stayed in Washington. Before Jack, Aaron wondered it too from time to time, but truly, he wouldn't do anything different now, he wouldn't choose any alternative ending that would take Jack from him.

But at least now he had a second chance, right?

#lari writes sometimes #yes im in love with him alright #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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eclairsnme · 1 year

Text

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The troubles of an Idol.

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she's back with more demands and silliness!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“Could you make that,” pointing to your chest subtly, “a little bigger?”

Sitting beside the photo editor, you closely observe her working magic on your recent photoshoot with a swimwear brand.

You thought the photos looked great until you caught on to an important missing element.

Boobs.

Big boobs to be specific.

You had boobs but they were not like Hana Haruna’s (*a Japanese pornstar*).

What is the point of posing for a swimwear brand when you lack the assets?

“Maybe if you could just accentuate it a little more,” you gestured your hands to reiterate your idea of a big boob.

“Miss, if I make it any bigger here it’ll look as if you have watermelon jugs as big as your head.”

Your photo editor had a point; your edited chest resembled overblown balloons.

But still! (╯•﹏•╰)

“Isn’t that what the people like? Do you know what they always say? ‘Big boobs don’t lie’.”

“I think you got the wrong idea here, miss.”

“We cannot let the people out there catch me lacking!”

This was your first ever swimwear photoshoot in your entire career. Usually, you will pose for makeup brands and luxury clothing brands.

Swimwear was an uncharted territory. Of course, you were a little overzealous.

Me! The idol who is perfect in every way! Perfect face, perfect figure, and perfect life — an idol who everyone knows and loves.

“Hold on a second, let me refer to my advisor for their advice.”

Imitating a handheld phone with your hands and fingers, you held it towards your ear and spoke through the mock phone.

“Hello, myself. Do you think big boobs are better or small boobs?”

You halted for a second before replying to your own quandary, “Most definitely big boobs.”

With that, you ended the “call”.

“There you have it, miss photo editor. You just have to make it big enough to look natural.”

“If you say so...”

“I am the perfect idol. I cannot lack!”

Maintaining the image of an idol sure is a tough job.

—

“Did she gain some weight?”

“She looked like she had some plastic surgery done to her nose.”

“Oh, I heard she’s dating that one foreign guy!”

“Didn’t you hear how she seduced her way into…”

“She looks like she aged like rotten cheese since her teenage years.”

“Don’t you think she’s the least talented of her siblings?”

Those were just some of the many comments you could ascertain from your dear haters coming from the live audience seat.

You know you are the epitome of perfection. No matter what they say, it would not make you hot under the collar.

Jealously sure is a terrible disease. ┐(´～｀)┌

Currently, you are on a TV show with your male costar, whom you could not really remember his name for he is just a mere NPC.

Today’s show required you to promote a romance drama you acted in last year that has finally been broadcasted this year.

You played the role of the female lead, who fell in love with the male lead at first sight.

It turns out, the group of people who were talking behind your back was this NPC costar’s groupies.

Tsk. Bunch of buzzing bees.

They were on a nonstop mission to pour vitriolic attacks on you.

Despite all the hate, you thought it was quite flattering that they were giving you such undivided attention albeit having their “idol” — NPC costar — right beside you.

Yet again, you have proved to yourself that you are indeed the star of the show! Haters are part of the package of being so irresistible!

(Ŏ艸Ŏ)

You giggled at that.

“This is the hottest romance drama of this season that is sure to get you excited!” The host bellowed, prompting a wave of applause from the audience.

You smiled at the reception.

The interview was filled with scripted questions which you accordingly answered to.

Too easy.

You just had to smile sweetly at everyone to have them fall in love with you. Even the bunch of groupies could not help but to fall for your charm.

Everything was going swimmingly until the host pulled out his wild card — an unscripted question directed at you.

“As a famous idol, do you have any real-life romantic experiences that are swoon-worthy to share with the audience?” The host said in an overly enthusiastic tone.

The audience gasps.

All the cameras were then angled at you anticipating your response.

You smiled sweetly at the host.

Does this guy hate me or something? He must be my number one hater!

Your privacy has always been prioritised as an idol.

Not much was known about your private life until the recent news of your relationship with the Itoshi siblings broke out.

Disregarding that, the matter of your romantic relationship was a topic deemed taboo even to your fans.

The genesis of the taboo nature of your private romantic life started from an honest discussion among the netizens.

They were speculating who you were romantically involved with but it was all for naught as they could not find even a speck of man involved with you.

Even when feverish stalkers took matters into their own hands, they still could not find dirt on you.

Male costars? You treated them like dirt off-camera.

Other male celebrities? You did not even bother looking in their direction or bear to breathe the same air as them for you are better than them.

It soon became apparent to them that perhaps you had a secret affair or were involved in something incredibly scandalous — maybe you were interested in unique deviances?

Their theories then became out of control and so out of pocket that everyone began making up weird conclusions of their own online, which caused a huge uproar.

In the end, everyone decided to be more hush about that topic.

In reality, the truth as to why no one was able to dig up any evidence of you in a relationship was simply because you have always been single as a pringle.

How could a young eligible, gorgeous and talented bachelorette be so single? ( ▀ 益 ▀ )

That is because your brain only contains idol-related information. Everything else? Nil.

Is this man mocking me?

“Surely someone as pretty as you would have countless opportunities for love isn’t it?” The host continued with his onslaught of probing.

Should I strangle him? Or should I just slap him? No no no. Evil monologue shut up.

You look over to your manager and gave him the death glare.

In response to that, he expeditiously told the producers to temporarily halt the program.

With hands akimbo, your tall and slim frame overwhelmed the short and stubby manager.

You frowned at him and harshly whispered to his ears, “Get me a boyfriend ASAP!”

“Eh?!”

—

The program ended and you finally let out a long sigh in the car.

“So did you find me a boyfriend yet?”

“I-I don’t think that is how relationships work! I cannot just magically bring you a boyfriend.”

“But I want a boyfriend! So find me one!” You exclaimed helplessly.

Your manager sighed at your zero concepts of relationships and love.

“Have you loved someone before?”

“Myself.”

“Other than yourself?”

“Is this a trick question or something?”

Mr Manager glances at the rearview mirror with a defeated expression.

“Have you experienced love before?”

“What’s that?” You asked, fingers on your chin unsure what the heck that meant. ಠ╭╮ಠ

“The butterflies in your stomach when you meet someone you love!” He exasperated.

“Oh, that! Whenever I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror, I get this inexplicable feeling of that thing you described!”

This was a lost cause. Although you acted in numerous romance dramas, you still did not grasp the meaning of love. What a hypocrisy it is.

“To have a boyfriend, you must first love that person!”

“What? That sounds like a hassle. I just want a boyfriend.”

Mr manager scrunched his nose in disbelief.

“And why do you exactly want a ‘boyfriend’? This can’t be another of your impulsive thoughts is it?”

Mr manager had a déjà vu of a time when you ordered him to get you a pet tiger.

“No, it is not! What with all these questions, Mr interrogator?”

“…”

“Shut up and just get me a boyfriend.”

“So I have the right to set you up on a date?”

“Whatever it is, I want a boyfriend. I am being very extremely superbly serious!” You said with finality.

Mr Manager could only sigh in defeat yet again for the umpteenth time.

“But you are a public figure–”

You snapped at Mr Manager, “Shut up!”

He continued driving the car, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Any man would die to date you; you were a beguiling and dazzling lady. However, your attitude was something he was not sure any man would be able to handle.

In his entire career of being your manager, not once has he had a good day. Every day was filled with problems caused by you that he had to solve.

His brow scrunched together in grim defeat.

Boyfriend huh? Good luck to that unlucky guy.

You, on the other hand, seating cross-legged in the backseat, were marinating in annoyance.

After experiencing the mockery of the host deprecating your love life, you could not let that slide.

You had to ratio him.

Was it immature? Debatable.

Your only participation in this so-called romantic relationship concept was acting in dramas and movies.

And your exposure to the male species was…

Ehem.

Despite being an idol, your otherwise desolate personal life painted you as a lone wolf.

In your life, it was all work and dedication to being the best.

You were on fire! On fire to get a boyfriend! You will show them that you are capable of anything, and not lacking in any department!

The constant buzz of your phone eventually broke you out of your daze.

When you saw the screen, you immediately picked up the call.

“Rin!”

“I’m one step closer to demolishing brother.”

Eh? ！(◎_◎;)

You took the phone away from your ear and stared into the screen making sure you have the right person on the phone.

After confirming it’s the right person, you responded, “What do you mean demolishing your brother?”

“I’ve joined Paris X Gen in Blue Lock to become the best striker and to destroy brother.”

“Mmm… you are destroying my heart, Rin. Why are you still talking about your brother like this?”

“I will be better and he will finally acknowledge me.”

You murmured incoherent thoughts with a frown.

This pent-up hatred can go no further!

“Sister?”

“Where are you now?”

“In the Blue Lock facility. Why?”

You hung up the phone.

“Drive me to this Blue Lock facility place,” you ordered Mr Manager.

—

As soon as you arrive at the Blue Lock building, you were met with strict security.

“Let me in you low-life man.”

“Miss, this is not a place you can just walk in.”

“And a measly man like you can?”

You had been at this for a good 10 minutes, going back and forth with the stubby man and his group of security guards.

Getting sick and tired of this nonsense, you slap the man's fake wig off his head. The wig which was so fake you could see your reflection on it, flew away dramatically and plopped onto the hard asphalt ground.

“M-my hair!” He ran straight to the plastic wig.

“What’s with all these ruckus?”

The hairless man exclaimed at the sight of the short-haired woman.

Your attention went towards the petite, short-haired woman. She looked about your age. As she moved closer to you, almost immediately, your attention snapped to her big bust.

Those are what I call knockers! OMG! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Too busy ogling at her melons, you didn’t realise she was calling out for you.

Snapping yourself out of it, you introduced yourself.

“You are the popular idol!” The busty lady interrupted you, “I am, Anri Teieri, the manager of this facility. This is a strictly out-of-bounds area. What business does an idol like you have here?”

“Miss Anri, you see I have an underaged brother here and I, as his attending guardian, need to see him.”

“I’m sorry, but only authorised personnel can enter the premises.”

“Then authorise me. My little brother is feeling so homesick he was practically begging on his knees to meet me.”

“Every participant here is dedicated to being the best striker, we cannot afford any distractions such as yourself. I’m sure your little brother understands this — it’s all part of the process,” Anri puffed her chest out.

Seeing the physics of her melons do their job, you unconsciously covered your own chest.

That’s unfair! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Anri observed the female opposite her. Hands down, you are the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. A face sculpted by the gods and paired with those glassy teal eyes that just compelled attraction. Of course, she knew who you are — who doesn’t.

Honestly, Anri was a huge fan of your work. She had collected all your albums and watched all your shows.

You could say that she’s a fan girl.

She also knew that you were the older sister of Rin Itoshi. She had looked through each player's records and with the recent breakout news that you are related to the Itoshi siblings, no doubt you are his sister.

However, she cannot haphazardly let you enter.

What goes on inside Blue Lock is confidential.

“Who is in charge of this building? Call him out now,” you demanded, unwilling to leave until you got what you want.

As if the big man up there had heard your quandary, Anri’s phone rang and it was Ego.

“Let her in,” the deep voice reverberated in her ear.

Ego stared at the monitor, observing Anri and the idol through the surveillance camera.

“But,” Anri tried to protest to no avail as Ego quickly intercepted.

“No harm letting her in.”

With that, the call ended, leaving a befuddled Anri.

“The general manager called and said you are allowed in,” Anri hesitantly said.

“That wasn’t too hard isn’t it?” You smiled, satisfied.

EHE god is always on my side. ✌︎('ω')✌︎

—

The Blue Lock facility was a massive site. It was bigger than any skyscraper you had ever seen. This could easily be the most impressive building in Japan.

The space was so big that every step you took became a loud echo.

“Hey, big melon woman,” you called out for her.

“P-pardon m-m-me?” Anri is flustered at your bluntness.

“Yes, you.” You replied, disregarding her blushing face, “Where’s Rin?”

“The Blue Lock players are currently undergoing their training as of now, therefore I’ll be bringing you to the surveillance room where Ego is at.”

“And should I know what this Ego thing is?”

“Ego is a man I chose to oversee this Blue Lock project.”

“Oho — so you are the mastermind? That’s pretty impressive.”

That was impressive. You had an inkling an old, wrinkly man was behind Blue Lock but to think it was the big melon woman? That was impressive in your books.

Well, that and coupled with your bias for big boobs. (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

Leading you through the vast hallway, both of you finally arrived at your destination.

Anri knocked on the door a couple of times.

“Come in,” came a reply.

As soon as the door opened, you were welcomed by the bright screens of many monitors.

Looking at the screens, they were all surveilling all of the Blue Lock players in the facility.

“Ego, this is the idol you told me to bring along.”

“Here, what you are witnessing are all the unpolished diamonds striving to become the best striker the world will soon witness,” Ego stood up, overwhelming your frame even though you weren’t short by any means.

Ego was a tall, lanky man and you cannot help but compare him to the game character called “Slenderman”.

“Make no mistake that we are the next revolution of football,” continued Ego.

You took a step towards the monitors and scrutinised trying to locate Rin.

“Note this, every day, every boy here only thinks about eating, sleeping and football,” continued Ego.

Still unable to find Rin, you pulled Anri and ask her to help you look for him. More pair of eyes will get the job done.

“We have never allowed any outsider to our facility and you are the first. Consider this a blessing that I am a fan of your works and have allowed you to witness this holy sanctuary,” continued Ego.

Where is Rin?!

“There he is!” Anri smiled as she pointed at a monitor to your far left.

Rin was on the field practising with other players.

“Bring me to him,” you interrupted Ego’s nonstop rant.

“I will, but I have a better idea,” he suspiciously said.

—

On the side of the field, Rin took off his football boots.

The nonstop practice and matches had worn out his boots till the original colour was gone.

It was not even a week since he had joined Paris X Gen, and the regiment was even harsher than before.

It was not for nothing though, he could feel his stamina, strength and ability getting better.

Nothing can stop him from achieving greater heights.

Be it the jerk Shidou or Isagi, he will be better.

But he cannot help to still feel that he is lacking somethi-

"RIN!"

The speaker rumbled throughout the entire Blue Lock building.

The big screen flickered and you came to view.

Rin sank back and covered his face; covering the heavy blush that instantly painted his face bright red.

"Sister..." he muttered under his breath, "What are you doing here?"

Embarrassment was currently the biggest understatement as he tried to pretend he did not hear or see anything.

"Hey, isn't that the idol? Am I dreaming right now?" Karasu gasps at your appearance.

"Rin, can you hear me?" You waved your hand trying to get your little brother's attention.

The Ego man told you that you can communicate with Rin through the screen but what a big liar he was!

On the monitor, the figure of Rin showed that he was still minding his own business as if he did not know you are here.

"Your dearly beloved sister is here!" You shouted into the mic again thinking that perhaps it was some faulty audio.

Your voice echoed throughout the building again, everyone in the building had their attention on you.

Uproars could be heard from the players in every room exclaiming at the sight of a popular idol.

You continued calling out for brother. After all, Ego had nicely set up a Zoom call for you, you cannot let this opportunity go to waste.

Why isn't he looking at me? (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

At the corner of the room, away from the screen, Ego held back his laughter and Anri silently stood unable to help you.

—

"Hey, Reo-" Nagi poked Reo, "isn't that the videogame character?"

"She's the person the videogame character was modelled after," Reo replied.

“She’s a real person?” Nagi said in disbelief.

Unlike Nagi, who only knew you from his game, Reo has actually went to your live concerts multiple times.

After all, your concerts were sponsored by Mikage Corporation.

“Even in real life, she look like a video game character.”

“Is it because she look so unreal?” Reo replied.

—

"Meine Leibe, you have come for me," Kaiser stopped his track as soon as he heard your voice.

Pushing Isagi out of his way, he walked towards the screen with both arms out.

“This must be fate.”

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Part 4

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hyunjinsjeans · 1 month

Text

He Knows (I.N ver.)

Han ver. | Felix ver. | Seungmin ver.

Masterlist

Synopsis: A little retelling of how you wind up finding out you’re having a baby with I.N.

Type: Fluff 🧸, angst ❤️‍🩹, female reader 💃

Warnings: mentions of unplanned pregnancy, no last draft proofreading

Word count: 2828

AN: Okay, this one is extra long because Innie is the last one to have been married (in my He Knows universe, thank you so much) so there are plenty of things to cover... I had plans for this story but then my period appeared and uhh, well this happened! Enjoy!

Innie is so sweet when he is with you alone. It was easy to forget he really did not enjoy skinship when you first started dating because he would hold hands with you a lot as long as you were not in public.

He is used to being taken care of all the time, his hyungs love him and they have always looked out for him as if he was their real younger sibling. It did not change the fact that he was a man. Naturally, he started shaving and he grew out of his shelf more with the years, with the boosted confidence and renewed self worth that outgrowing teen angst gives people he began looking at women around him a different way. It wasn’t just lust, there were possibilities. He learned early on that being an idol and having a family were difficult things to coincide. A rare occurrence. Yet somehow, his hyungs began making it work. So he started considering those possibilities. I.n could tell it was no easy task even if it seemed simple. As an idol, having a partner was a wild dream.

The first one in the group to get married was Hyunjin, ever the romantic he popped the question in an elaborate manner. Everyone knew because he could not shut up about how excited he was. He even practiced with Changbin, Felix and Han as audience to give him pointers. I.n and Chan looked from afar with Seungmin and Lee Know ignoring the bunch. I.n questioned himself right then if he was ever going to find that kind of unquestionable love. Hyunjin was nervous with the excitement of it, but he never mentioned thinking about Hyunjin!Reader saying no. He was merely inviting her to make it official. And the absurd thing was not that he was so confident, but that he managed to make the transition look effortless. From single to a boyfriend to a husband. All on top of being an idol.

I.n would think about his chances to have a special someone by his side constantly in the next couple of years, when his hyungs began getting married and introducing their girlfriends to everyone at group gatherings.

After Hyunjin came Changbin, then Lee Know and Chan. Felix got married a little after the elder aussie and then Han was brave enough to pop the question.

Han had not even finished planning his wedding when Seungmin introduced his girlfriend to everyone, they had already been together for a few months and while nobody had met her in person it was still no surprise to see her.

It was the revelation that everyone was making a life so difficult for an idol work for them, that made I.n take that step and ask you out.

You could say you were late to the party, but it was not as if you were strangers. You had met him a long time ago and although at first you thought he was being flirty he never made a move so you dismissed it.

You were a nurse at a plastic surgery clinic, you were mostly helping the dermatologist so you were used to greeting the young idol at the reception - though you never treated him any differently. To be honest, you were not too aware of who the famous acts were because you spent a lot of your time studying and this was your first job since graduating and getting certified. You were used to seeing him as you usually helped his doctor with the procedures.

Jeongin’s invitation for a coffee had you blushing behind the reception counter he so nonchalantly leaned on. You could feel the other nurses’ stares burning the back of your neck. You were unable to reply, simply letting out a little “oh”, and giggling. Your coworker coughed on her desk beside you, safe from Jeongin’s stare. She opened her eyes wide and nodded frantically in your direction. A silent but clear “say yes, you idiot!”

“Sure!” You had said, grabbing the reception pen and a flier from the bunch on the desk.

You scribbled your number and told him to text you so you could agree on a time and place.

***

It seems too long ago now as you stare at the pregnancy test in your hand.

Outside the bathroom you can hear the sound of steps going from the door to the window, they barely stop and then they trace their way back.

I.n was nervous when you brought up the topic the night before, he was brushing his teeth and you were already laying down under the covers.

“I’m never this late,” you explained, “I called the doctor but he won’t see me until Friday…”

He was the one to ask you to take the test after hearing you were going to have to wait an entire week to see the doctor. He would not be able to wait that long with this news looming over his head.

You had not actively tried to have a baby, but both of you knew you were having some mild symptoms. An aversion to some smells and food, a strange dizziness every other day at random times of the day. The lack of your last period was the only piece in the puzzle to finally land in its place.

He was waiting outside in the bedroom, panicking. Panicking big time because he was scared. He was scared of the world outside your home, the people outside your relationship.

Unlike his members, he went the private route with you. He did not want you to be subjected to judgment and criticism. He would hate himself if he put you in such a vulnerable position. In his eyes, he had few chances to take care of the people he loved, he was almost always the one protected by an elder or a more authoritative figure; with you, he was the lead. He was the one in the public eye taking the metaphorical blows and the literal hate.

He was the one showing his face to fans who loathed the meaning behind the ring on his finger, he was the one avoiding posting the pictures he took of you, the one asking the company to make sure they cut any footage of you they would get on camera even if it was funny, especially if it was funny.

You were his safe space, his home and his world.

He knew the moment you two had children that the shitstorm would be of astronomical proportions. He wished with all his being he never had to talk you out of having kids, because he knew in his heart that it would make him the happiest man alive to fill your house with the sound of their laughter. In his wildest dreams he would have three kids with you, all of them would be as funny and curious as you, they would probably inherit some of his fox-like features and maybe just like him they would be carefree little troublemakers.

Oh, Innie would love to be over the moon with excitement but right now he was wishing and praying you had just been late… he had dropped his second mini album a few days ago, he could not fathom the idea of juggling the promotions and tour with a pregnant wife at home and the secrecy of it all.

You were aware of all of Jeongin’s unspoken worries because he tends to take up more responsibility than anyone ever asks of him. When you met his members, his leader told you so in secret - although you were already aware from the months dating him.

I.n was your everything from the moment you met at that coffee shop that first time outside of scrubs. It was because you met him - not the idol; and he was sweet, he was sincere and smart. You could tell his mind raced behind his eyes even then, he was reserved both with words and touch.

It was not unusual to walk with him somewhere and stand next to him at arm's length, he rarely held your hand and even more oddly would wrap his arms around you in public. The most he would ever do was sit next to you at restaurant tables. Although there were sparks of affection here and there they were scarce and far between. During group meals he would allow your chairs to be closer than usual and he would not mind having your thigh pressed against his, but this was it. Sometimes when you brought him a smoothie or a coffee during your lunch break he would let his fingers brush against yours for a second too long. Jeongin was better at making the time and taking notice of your interests than he was at wording his affections.

In private he would laugh at what he came to nickname your “labrador behavior”. It reminded him of Felix at first, he enjoyed the sensation of your hands on his hair and how you rubbed his scalp in such a soothing manner he would feel himself begin to drift with sleepiness.

After a while together he could no longer have his friend in mind when you came near him, he was the last thing on his mind; you were quite obviously not him. Rubbing his back and then his shoulders, kissing the back of his neck and wrapping your arms around his waist while you layed in bed.

Of course once you started having sex he became more touchy at home as he was more comfortable with the physical contact knowing you welcomed it. He enjoyed simply standing behind you while you cooked or brushed your teeth and liked to tilt his head to smell your hair. He began letting his arms wrap around your shoulders when you watched tv and he pulled you to his side so you could lay against him on the couch.

He was happy to live his life with you away from prying eyes, but how private could it stay if you showed up at events with a big round belly? People were curious, they had always been and sometimes they found ways to glance into your lives. Somehow, people knew what you looked like, and this was bad enough to him.

I.n did not want to do as his members had done, he was adamant his family were not public figures so they stayed private. Everyone respected that, most fans respected his wishes of privacy as well. The ones who did not were the ones he allowed himself to spend the most time worrying about. Because you were his small delicate flower on a strange planet, which he adores too much to pluck and take home under a spotlight for people to stare and dissect and pick at and hurt.

You sighed once the result was clear on the test. Your eyes traveled to the three year old ring on your finger. With shaky legs you stood and pushed your hair behind your ear as you grabbed the door knob and turned it, the footsteps outside the door quickly came to a halt. Walking into your bedroom your gaze met your husband’s and you felt your mouth go dry, words stuck in your throat. His expression softened and he extended his hand for you, you handed him the test, eyes looking away as you pulled your hand away immediately.

I.n grabbed the small plastic tube and gazed at it with a straight face. Your eyes watered and the air in the room seemed to be insufficient to your lungs, you turned to book it and get space away from him; his arms fell by his sides and he watched you reach the doorway and leave through the long hallway.

It only took him about four long strides before he was right on your face.

His free hand cupped your face and he pulled you into him so your head could rest on his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around you and you immediately let his warmth envelop you as you held on to him.

You were like that for a couple of minutes, holding onto each other in silence. You felt guilty, afraid of what he would say. Innie did not want kids, at least not now, you were sure of it. You hated the thought that he would be angry, that he might blame you - and in your mind he would be right to do so because you had been slacking and missing some pills…

You heard him chuckle above you and peeled your cheek from against his shirt, your face was tear stained with fear but he was looking up at the ceiling with his lips pursed and an undeniable smile plastered on all of his features. His fox-like eyes looked like two long lines.

Like every single time before, you were life’s accomplice in making him realize how much more there was to life than to playing it safe. He wondered if you would ever let him catch his breath, as it felt like you always had surprises for him. Anytime he was sure of something you changed his world; first by entering, then by asking him if he wanted to have a space in your closet, then moving in with him, and the last one had been when you accepted his nervous proposal and married him. Now you had somehow found a way to pull at his heart strings and bring his head out of the daze of carefulness.

He noticed your eyes on him and he sniffed, then he returned to holding your gaze.

“I knew it!” He admitted, “I knew you would be the death of me!” Tears spilled from his eyes.

You swallowed hard, an apology beginning to come to your lips. You had talked about having kids once, but he told you he would not force his luck like that being an idol and being married was already challenging enough… you had accepted that, having Jeongin was more important to you and that was a compromise you were willing to make.

“I’m s-”

“No,” I.n interrupted you, “don’t say that, I am sorry.” He cried a little more, “I’m not mad, I’m-I’m actually happy!”

You heard his voice break and he let out a chuckle as more tears fell down his face. You wiped them and wrapped your arms around him again, placing your head in that comforting spot on his chest.

“I’m scared,” you admitted in a whisper, still in his embrace. “What do we do now?”

I.n squeezed you against his body and then pulled away, leaning back to see your face even though you were looking down, avoiding his gaze.

His hands traveled down your arms and he held your hands.

“We,” he paused, “are going to the doctor on friday. Then you are going to do everything they say you do. And I am going to take care of you. As best as I can, I promise you.”

You smiled with the urge to cry some more and your husband kissed your cheek, bringing you closer again. This had been one of those strange things that let him know something was up with you; you were suddenly breaking into tears at anything.

“I would love that!” You cried into his black shirt, a wet patch forming.

“Please don’t cry, you’re making me cry,” I.n pleaded with his cheek against your head. “I hate to see you cry, and I don’t think it’s good for the baby either!”

Your grip on him tightened and beyond helping his words seemed to encourage more emotion to overwhelm you. And so the hiccups began.

“Aw, Y/N… babe…” he rubbed circled onto your back seeing as you were so affected

Your husband helped you sit down with him on the living room couch, still holding on to him while you tried your best to recover control over your emotions. It truly was a hormonal thing.

“Innie?” you sniffed, brave enough to let go for a moment. He gave you a soft smile, pushing your hair behind your ears as it had become somewhat unruly. “I love you.”

Your husband broke into a smile and he cupped your face, already aware you needed all the physical contact he could offer.

“I love you too,” he gave a soft peck to your nose and you blinked in surprise, fully not expecting this display of affection even in the privacy of your house, “and I love you too.”

You followed Jeongin’s eyes as his hand moved to your stomach and he placed his palm against it over your sweater, a tender smile adorned his features. You sucked in a breath and placed a shaking hand over his.

“You’re going to make me cry again,” you whispered. “I think they love you very much too.”

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

#stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin fluff #yang jeongin fic #i.n fluff #i.n fanfic #i.n x reader #i.n x you #i.n x y/n #hyunjinsjeans writing #he knows blurb collection

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charmsponies · 17 days

Text

🩷💚 Custom Fizzy Takara Doll 💚🩷

Created using the 3d model made by Otteroflore!

Wip description and pics below the cut ^^

So I am a COMPLETE AND TOTAL NOOB when it comes to technology. and I made a lot of mistakes trying to print this Fizzy due to my own incompetence and also everyone online assuming you already kinda know something about 3d printing if you own a printer. We recieved a 3d printer as a gift and I knew Nothing about it so I reallly struggled trying to figure it out. Also my computer is ancient and had to download a like 5 year old out of date version of a 3d printing program (cura) to even get it to work. took an entire week and several failed tries T-T

FINALLY we got an attempt that was salvageable! And had to rip out all of the support beams from it. But even then there were some major mistakes:

It did not print hollow. Nobody online explained that if you want it to be hollow it wasn’t enough that the model itself had hollow parts, you have to turn off a hole setting in cura and mess with the infill or something

For some reason the bodies were Very Fucked Up? The middle and sides printed Weirdly to where, once the supports were all removed, They had no sides/shoulders. Wuh oh.

The way I combatted this was by taking extra filament plastic and a soldering iron gun to weald it on and do literal plastic surgery.

(A before and after) it looks like complete ass and is a little janky but. please be kind to her it was a major operation 😭😭😭

Then sanded things down a bit more. I know people say to sand it down until you can’t see the lines anymore but im an impatient motherfucker and only had a little bit of sandpaper so :P

Then it was painting time! Used my own fizzy to color match, painted her green with a white nose and a milkshake cutiemark. I also glued stick on gems into her eye sockets

Then the hairing! Used a sewing needle heated up with a lighter to easily poke holes into her skull! The lovely user minticat on Mlptp provided great reference images of what a takara’s hair length and hair holes look like, so I did my best to mimic that

Her hair is the closest color matches for fizzy that Shimmerlocks had: Cotton Candy pink, Angel white, Heart Throb 2.0 pink and Gusty green. Now the head isnt actually all that hollow (I hollowed it out best I could with my soldering iron but still not the best) so I couldn’t use the usual hairing method where you punch the hair in and then glue it from inside. I realized I needed to attach glue to the hair itself and then get it into the holes.

At first I was too much of a scardey cat to use my actual hairing needle in fear it would break on the plastic, so I tried a very infuriating method of putting glue on hair strands and painstakingly trying to push them into the holes with a pin. This was awful. I quickly gave up, braved up and grabbed my rehairing needle. Punched the hair in after applying glue to the hair, and it worked out surprisingly well!

All that was left was to 1) String the doll using elastic bands to tie the legs and arms into place but still make sure they were moveable. 2) GENTLY trim, wash and style the hair (using buggys special method of getting tiny curly curls. 3) Figure out the head

I originally wanted to make a neckplug for her out of clay as you see here but it didnt work too well. The plastic of the doll is much harder than the clay and it kept breaking after trying to put the head on. So I accepted I would have to glue the head on in place (It cant turn, unlike the arms and legs 😔) You can also see i used some clay to patch up a crack in the plastic that formed (which I had to paint over again)

FINAL STEP was making the dress!!! I forgot to take ANY pictures of that ùwú Not that pictures would be useful to you guys as I kinds fuckin winged it and made up a pattern as I went. I think its adorable, but in the future I would make it a little bigger (the back doesnt fit quite right). Maybe if theres interest I’ll fix up the pattern so its better and share another doll dress tutorial with the class? 😳 sound off in the comments below haha

#my little pony #mlp #generation 1 #gen 1 #g1 #takara #toys #custom #fizzy #my photos #my ponies

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aurumacadicus · 7 months

Text

Unfortunately, Pepper and Tony have been in each other's lives long enough to rub off on each other.

Steve didn't think that Tony and Pepper should be looking so morose after Natasha had helpfully pulled Pepper's shirt back down. Everyone was being very polite about having gotten an eyeful of Pepper's lacy red bra after her undershirt had gotten caught in the sweater she was taking off. Sometimes embarrassing things happened! They'd all forget about it in a few days. A few hours, maybe, for some of them.

"I don't understand," Steve heard Tony moaning, which seemed very strange, considering he had been blathering on about the clinging power of fabric as Pepper blinked, stunned, while Natasha walked away. "It's the Red Bra of Justice. Natasha should have been knocked out instantly."

"HUH," Steve bellowed, spinning on his heel. He didn't even try to pretend he hadn't been listening.

Tony and Pepper blinked at him, stunned. Finally, Tony put his hands on his hips, shoulders straight as he earnestly answered, "The bra. Natasha should have been overcome with lust and finally ask Pepper out."

"HUH," Steve bellowed again, and only then did Pepper start to blush, mortification flooding over her face. "WAS THAT A NORMAL THOUGHT FOR YOU."

"...Sexy and helpless has always worked before," Tony offered helplessly.

Steve didn't know what to do in response. No words came. A lot of feelings did, though. He let out what Clint had once called "an emotional outlet of speechlessness not unlike a pterodactyl screech."

"Oh my god I can't believe I flashed the whole team trying to get Natasha to ask me out," Pepper gasped, burying her face in her hands. "Why did that seem like a good idea. Tony, I'm resigning immediately and moving to Alaska."

"I will get plastic surgery and disappear forever if you make me CEO again," Tony said, in a way that made it clear he meant it. "Also it worked on me, and I'm not even a spy who makes a living reading emotions." He eyed Pepper skeptically. "Maybe red is just too much my color. We should put you in black. More lace, too. This time we'll manufacture a more intimate setting. Natasha will definitely jump your bones then."

Steve's brain finally caught up with him. "This was all to get Natasha to ask Pepper out?"

"Well she hasn't picked up on any of our other hints!" Tony snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm dying here, Steve. Pepper's bad at asking people out."

"SO ARE YOU," Steve bellowed furiously.

Tony gasped, offended. "Excuse me? I asked Pepper out all the time. I got her a martini with seven olives."

Pepper swiveled to stare up at him, aghast. "You thought getting me a martini with seven olives was asking me out?"

"You only asked for five," Tony explained, offense fading to confusion. "I was proving I could go above and beyond."

Tony had once come up with a dozen new flavors of Super Serum-specific protein smoothie when Steve had just asked for one. Steve let out another screech. Had that also been flirting?! He was going to throw Natasha off the roof. She'd said Tony was just friendly. Then again, Pepper had been (badly) trying to seduce her and she hadn't noticed, so.

"JARVIS, tell Natasha to meet me on the roof," Steve said, turning to head for the elevator. Maybe he'd cool down by the time he got there. Maybe he'd actually try to chuck her. In any case, he was going to have words. He'd been pining for Tony for months and apparently he'd been giving off fuck-me vibes in his own special, Tony Stark way, and neither of them had noticed.

Worst case scenario, he could always throw himself off the roof, too.

#ideas #stony #blackpepper

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msmk11 · 2 months

Text

A Moment For Yourself

Johanna Mason x fem!reader

WC: 830

CW: mention of killing people; fluff

Summary: You, the daughter of the mayor of district two, surprise Johanna

Day 1 of MK's mad dash

Upon becoming a victor, Johanna quickly realized that even if you won the Hunger Games, you never really left the arena. Instead, you were thrust into another more complicated, confusing one dominated by social etiquette and politics. The worst part about it- you couldn't kill anyone in this new arena. And right about now, Johanna really wanted to kill someone. Preferably her stylist, who'd dressed her in one after another idiotic outfit that was itchy, restricting, and thoroughly unflattering.

If the outfit wasn't enough, today was the day Johanna was most dreading on her victory tour- second only to visiting the Capitol- her visit to District 2. If the tributes from Two during her games were any indication, everyone from the district were smug, cocky pain in the asses with a superiority complex.

She got off the train in Two with a less than warm reception- dim smiles worn on plastic faces, altered by Capitol surgeries. This district visit was no different than the rest- insincere speeches to the neighbors, friends, and families of the fallen, a tour of the district where Johanna could barely hide her disinterest, and a fancy dinner with the mayor, table laden with local favorites. The feast was Johanna's favorite part, always using the excuse of too much food shoved in her mouth to be able to answer questions.

Just as she thought she'd survived the day, a quieter voice said, "we have one more stop here in Two before we send you off to the train."

Johanna looked up from her plate, dread already filling her stomach. It was you. She couldn't remember your name, having zoned out during introductions, but she did know that you were the mayor's daughter. You looked it too- your soft, full features a demonstration of your wealth, the pretty, baby blue dress you wore clearly made from the finest material, and the innocent smile that still graced your lips, free from any real idea of struggle. Had you not been who you were, Johanna would've maybe called you attractive.

The brunette nodded silently and stood, moving towards you. When no one else followed, she looked at you confused.

You smiled shyly at her, "This isn't an official part of your itinerary, I just like to steal the victors away for a minute to show them a secret spot."

Johanna looked at you warily, not really believing your seemingly innocent intentions, but followed anyhow. For someone who was likely trained on hostess etiquette, you were strangely quiet as you led Johanna away from your house. You padded through the lush grass that she assumed was your backyard and motioned for her to follow as you slipped between a small opening in a long wall of bushes. You stood patiently waiting for her on the other side, hands clasped behind your back and a soft look on your face. You walked for what could've only been a few more minutes before stopping in front of a small, peaceful pond. It was wonderfully quiet, the only sounds wildlife and the faint hush of your breathing.

You looked at her expectantly.

"So, what? You here to drown me or something?" She asked, confused.

"No, course not," you answered with a small giggle. A giggle that, though she'd never admit it, made Johanna's heart jump a little.

Johanna tried to think of something to say, so as to not appear rude, but she was at a loss for words. She couldn't understand why you'd brought her here.

It's like you read her mind, "I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you here, to a secluded pond in the middle of the woods."

"You could say that."

"It's probably silly," you say, a faint blush spreading over your cheeks, "But I've always thought about the victors and how, if I were you, I'd be feeling awfully lonely and exhausted right about now, so far away from home traveling with a bunch of strangers. And though it's not much, I thought that you all might just want a moment to yourselves with no prying eyes or incessant questions. I've gone to this place since I was little, whenever I just needed to be for a moment, and I've always hoped it would help the victors the same way it's helped me."

Johanna was silent.

"We can go back if you want. I know it's stupid I-"

Johanna reached out and grabbed your hand gently, "No, it's not stupid. I- thank you, really. This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time."

You smiled prettily at her and your shoulders visibly relaxed, "well, I'll leave you alone now. I'll just be on the other side of the hedge if you need me."

She gripped your hand tighter, "Wait! You can stay- if you want."

You looked her in the eyes intensely, "do you want me to?"

Even Johanna is a little shocked by what comes out of her mouth next- "yes."

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rollinouttahere-writes · 10 months

Note

You Know I feel like Rob Lucci snatched up Lizard in Water 7 by simply waiting for her to be alone and then taking her. Like before Robin boarded the train but after the reveal (that they were apart of CP9)

Like here's the thing she's not officially apart of the Straw hats (at the time) she's still considered to be apart of Baroque Works by proxy of her being the daughter of Crocodile. And so when Robin tries to argue for Lizard's freedom. Rob Lucci simply says "You said that the Strawhats were to be left alone. You never said anything about Crocodile's daughter. By the way until they reach Enies Lobby he only calls Lizard Crocodile's daughter after the reveal or little girl before the reveal. He doesn't refer to her as Lizard until she gets his respect when she throws her restrained self at Sandam and has to be physically dragged away from Spam face kicking and screaming demanding Spam's skull to beat him to death with his skull. Then he calls her Lizard and starts to become a platonic yandere for her and offers to pay for plastic surgery for her, so she can start fresh. Rob Lucci views Lizard as His cub that he must raise, nurture and mold into becoming the ideal assassin because as you said Lizard is cute which means that people won't see it coming

I got inspired and decided to write out the moment where Lucci officially becomes attached to her

Warning for acts of violence and a lot of blood mention. Also Spandam is here which is a warning in and of itself.

Lucci could not wait for Spandam to stop talking and dismiss them so he could leave and be doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, Spandam loved the sound of his own voice too much to ever be brief with his speeches, especially when he feels like he’s “accomplished” something. Not that he had any hand in the apprehending of the three individuals brought to Enies Lobby today.

Cutty Flam, or Franky as he called himself, had given them the most trouble, but even that was minimal. Nico Robin was easily coerced into cooperation with her newfound weakness with the Straw Hat Pirates. (Y/N), a former warlord’s daughter, had been the easiest. Not only did she not put up a fight, she boarded the train on her own once Kalifa confirmed that Nico Robin would also be there. The complete absence of fear had been intriguing. Lucci wasn’t sure if the child was truly fearless, or if she was simply intensely naive.

He’s sure that the answer will reveal itself soon enough.

While Nico Robin and Franky were actively arguing with Spandam, (Y/N) was just standing there and glowering at him. Her disdain for him was palpable as well as amusing. Understandable, too.

It appeared that Spandam had finally had enough of Robin’s protests, and decided to make it abundantly clear by punching her. The woman hit the floor hard and struggled to get back onto her feet. Lucci just rolled his eyes, he knew for a fact that the only reason Spandam was able to do this was because of the weakening effects of the sea prism stone handcuffs. If they were absent, she likely wouldn’t have even stumbled.

A flash of movement caught his eye. The once passive (Y/N) charged straight at Spandam. Since his back was to her, he didn’t get a chance to see her coming and only became aware of her when she rammed into him.

Spandam tripped over Robin and toppled onto the ground, slightly dazed. Before he could react, (Y/N) was on him. The teenager raised her foot and brought it down directly onto his face with a resounding crack. The impact most certainly broke his nose.

She didn’t stop there, however, she kept going. (Y/N) was repeatedly stomping on his head with precise and consistent blows. These weren’t the random, desperate kicks of someone acting out of fear. No, this was nothing but concentrated fury. Her once neutral expression was contorted with rage as she cursed out the chief of CP9 with vitriol dripping from each word.

Everyone was watching this in a stunned silence. Robin had entirely stopped trying to get up and was staring at (Y/N) in horror, Franky was in a similar state. The rest of CP9 was gawking at the display, none of them had anticipated the abrupt turn in her behavior.

While this was all extremely entertaining, it did have to come to an end before Spandam did. Jabra sprung out of his chair and rushed over to the girl. His hands clamped onto her upper arms and lifted her up and away from her victim. This was not enough to deter her. (Y/N) flailed and tried her damnedest to kick Jabra, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Quit! You’re just making this worse for yourself, kid,” Jabra tossed the teenager away from him. She rolled across the ground, but quickly got up and sprinted towards Spandam again. Jabra blocked her path, but that didn’t stop her from screaming at the crumpled form of the chief, “If you ever fucking touch Robin again I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit!”

Kumadori had abandoned his own chair to check on Spandam, who had now shifted onto his side and was violently coughing and hacking. Blood was gushing out of not only his broken nose but also his mouth. He spat onto the floor and one, two… Four teeth fell out. Oh wow, impressive.

“Lucci! Keep that monster away from me!” Spandam clung onto Kumadori’s hair as he attempted to get to his feet, “I knew you were involved with your father’s business! You were probably his best assassin, you little psychopath!”

Lucci snorted at the thought. Nothing about her actions indicated that she was experienced. Though he would admit that he could see some potential. Lucci grabbed the chain that connected her handcuffs and pulled her back a few steps, she shot him a venomous glare over her shoulder, but otherwise cooperated. Her shoulders were heaving from how hard she was breathing, moreso out of anger rather than exercise if he had to guess.

Spandam had managed to get himself upright with help and was trying to wipe the blood from his face with a handkerchief. He slapped away Kumadori’s helping hand and stomped towards Lucci and (Y/N).

He leered at the girl, “You have no idea what you’ve done! In case you forgot, I’M IN CHARGE OF YOU NOW!” Flecks of blood sprayed out of his mouth and got on her face. Shockingly, she doesn’t flinch from it and keeps her face neutral. “I’m going to make whatever is left of your miserable little life absolute hell and kill you the second you’re no longer worth keeping alive!”

Lucci saw Spandam becoming increasingly aggravated from her giving him no reactions to feed off of. His scowl shifts into a smirk and he gets right in her face, “Or maybe I’ll take this out on Robin and make you watch as you’re powerless to do anything.”

There was a pause. And then she spat in his face.

A couple of the CP9 agents snickered. This was honestly the most entertaining thing they’ve been subjected to in their time under Spandam. Even Lucci felt a grin tug at his lips, this girl was proving herself to be more and more interesting by the second.

Spandam recoiled and aggressively wiped at his face, only to yelp in pain when he brushed against his broken nose like an idiot. His eyes zeroed back in on (Y/N) and he reeled his arm back, “You little bitch!”

His hand swung towards her to slap her across the face, but that’s not what happened. With an honestly impressive speed, her head snapped forward and her teeth sank into his hand. Spandam screamed and tried to shake the girl off, but she only bit down harder and snarled.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, GET HER OFF ME!” The screech was so loud that it made Lucci’s ears hurt, but he obliged. An order is an order after all.

Lucci yanked her back by the handcuffs while Kumadori was pulling on Spandam. This girl was holding onto that hand for dear life, and it took some genuine effort to separate them, but with one final tug they were pulled apart.

This was accompanied by a snapping sound and even louder screaming from Spandam who was holding the bitten hand to his chest and doubled over. Kaku could be heard muttering out a ‘good lord’, and before Lucci could investigate to see what prompted such a reaction from a trained assassin, (Y/N) spit something out onto the floor.

A couple of quiet thuds were heard, and when he looked down, two fingers were rolling across the floor with blood spurting out of them. The pinky and ring fingers to be exact.

“I TOLD YOU TO KEEP HER AWAY FROM ME!” Never one to take accountability for his own stupid actions, Spandam was quick to direct his rage at Lucci.

“I did. But then you chose to approach her again,” it took everything Lucci had to keep from openly mocking him to his face.

“Boss, maybe we should get you some medical attention!” Kumadori was lightly pulling him towards the door, desperate to leave the situation before their moronic chief could possibly make it any worse.

Spandam was pulled out the main door and could be heard hurling obscenities from down the hall.

The room was dead silent and all of the eyes were on (Y/N). Robin and Franky were slack jawed, while the CP9 members appeared to be surprised but also mildly impressed. Not that she was paying them any mind. She was more focused on spitting out the blood in her mouth and trying to wipe off what remained using her shoulder.

Jabra strolled over and lightly nudged the disembodied fingers, “Damn, and you did all of that with your hands behind your back. I almost want to see what would happen if the cuffs came off.”

“Then do it.” She leveled him with a hard stare. Blood that wasn’t her own was smeared across the lower half of her face, “Uncuff me and see what happens.”

“No can do, kiddo. As much as everyone here might love to see that, we’ve got jobs to do.” Jabra flicked her forehead playfully and laughed when she tried to bite him, too. Lucky for him, she wasn’t quite fast enough to get him.

His eyes briefly flickered up to see Lucci’s face, and he cringed at the sight, “Hey kid, you might want to tone it down a bit.”

“Why?” Her response was snappy and sharp.

“Because I really don’t like the look on Lucci’s face right now and I’m pretty sure you’re the cause of it.”

She looked over her shoulder with an annoyed huff, but froze up once she made eye contact with the man holding her. A wide, malicious grin was plastered across his face as he leered down at the girl.

It was in that moment that Lucci knew he wanted this girl to live to see another day and not rot in prison. Letting someone with such a natural propensity for violence die now would be a horrendous waste. He knows that under the right supervision, this girl could be shaped into a damn good assassin, and he knows just the person that could train her.

#strays au #crocodad series #crocodad3 #rob lucci #i had the doc for this titled rip spandam lol #spandam #franky the cyborg #cyborg franky #nico robin #kaku one piece #jabra one piece

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doekimakura · 3 months

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Can we learn a bit more about Alvius and Charles?

Charles and Alvius were my old WF OCs I made at the peak of my Warframe fanboy moment. They were... vastly different characters than who they are now.

Also!! Note that I played Warframe last before Railjack so... idk shit abt new lore.

(Note: more info in alt text)

Charles LeClair

Currently, Charles is mostly-a-spy mercenary who works alone. He is extremely anxious and distrustful of everyone and seemed very feeble and weak-minded. He always acted like he doesn't want to do this whole warframe job (he really doesn't) but he is too broke to actually stop (he is.)

Apparently, some people are hunting him down. An operator and his Warframe... but he has no idea why they are hunting him down.

Charles' true passion lies in mathematics. Numbers and codes calms him down, which is why he would rather go on spy missions and/or hack consoles and steal credits from the enemy side. He is a huge number nerd to a point he is able to calculate in his head freely, enhancing control over his limbo ability (where he shifted between reality and Rift, etc.)

He doesn't tell people much about himself. The best person who knows him for who he is is Alvius, and even then the poor Nidus doesn't know much about him either. (That leads to their breakup.)

Alvius Ilidius

Alvius (he prefers to be called 'Alan' because it's shorter) is a lot of things. He is a CEO, (a nidus pretending to be) an Excalibur, and is the charming leader of the dojo 'Tera Fals.'

Alan himself is very laid back. Unlike Charles, he has a very calm and confident temperament with a sprinkle of humor. Probably passes as a himbo, but has amazing battle instincts. Likes kids! (Most Tenno are '''kids''' after all.) Don't be fooled by his human face. It's a) plastic surgery, he did it to mimic Charles and b) he's actually roughly the same age than as Charles (Like, what, ~300+ years old?) He's an old man. He probably got that face from some old earth playboy magazine, idk.

Despite his positive attitude and virtuous appearance, Alan was an experimental type of Nidus. TL;DR, an experiment where one Tenno can control 10 warframes at the same time. While he is able to walk around freely without an Operator, he was unfortunately plagued with urges of bloodlust and violence. He staves these urges by going out on extreme sports activities, missions, and using suppression medication.

Unfortunately, there are times that fearsome urge wasn't suppressed and well... let's say it caused casualties once.

...

Ok I'll tell you this, they are still in love. But with the massive baggage they're carrying that they haven't solved? That's why they aren't together at the moment.

Anyway that's all about two of my favorite characters and also one of my favorite couples.

#longpost #warframe #warframe headcanons #[WF] Charles #[WF] Alvius #its very long im sorry but they were my brainrot for so so so long #until the wf rp scene died and i gave up on both that and the game (at that time. Early Railjack times werent good for me #and i cant dedicate more time to grind)#I have the chance to polish all of this again and fix some old stuff and gimmicks ive grown out of #and now you have a neurotic mathematician and his adrenaline junkie himbo ex #i hope you like them as much as I do #they are silly and tragic put into one

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callmissrogers · 8 months

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That's My Girl | Part 1

Summary: A mission goes horribly horribly wrong, and Y/n knows it's her fault. Captain Rogers wants to be there for her, but she won't allow him to. But the team believes that there's more to this than simple hostage casualties. What is Hydra hiding?

Warnings: Angst, death, grief, and a wee bit of fluff stuck in there somewhere.

Word count: 3,527

(Only proofread once, so apologies for any mistakes)

Part 2

Y/n sat, face in her hands, leaning against her door.

It was all her fault.

They died because of her.

She had blood on her hands.

Try as she might to send her thoughts elsewhere, they still roamed back to what had happened the night before.

The street lights went out in an electrical burst, one by one.

Y/n looked around anxiously. The house had gone dark too. "we didn't have Intel on charge weapons." She barked over the comms. "Dang Hydra cockroaches!" Tony yelled. "They're trying to block our locators. I have a feeling that these are part of what the Shield x Hydra agents stole from headquarters." He finished. They could feel him pacing and moving his arms about wildly, as he always did.

"Well, let's recalculate. Charges or no, the doctor and his family still need our help." Natasha interjected.

They had come here after getting Intel on the kidnapping of a Doctor Cedric Bon. He had been a leader in black market plastic surgeries. Only his work had little to do with face lifts and tummy tucks, and so much more to do with attempts to actually turn the clock back on a person's age. Before, he had only managed to turn out some really messed up and damaged people, who could never undo what had been done to them. But a lot of chatter recently indicated that he had finally managed something akin to Steve's serum. But for youth instead of strength.

Right after that, he and his wife vanished. One of Natasha's sources told them that Hydra had gotten them. They could only imagine what they wanted them for.

"OK. So, not being able to tell where everyone is presents a problem." Sam said worriedly. Now they'd be going in blind. They were going to relay on some of Stark's technology to help them locate where they were being held and go from there.

"It's a problem, but we'll find a solution. Sam you keep cover from the skies. Tony, you're in charge of entry points and keeping anyone else from coming in. Buck, Nat, and I will handle whoever is waiting for us on the inside. Y/n, you gotta get'em out of there, ok?" Steve said, taking on the tone of voice he always had when he was in what they called Cap mood.

Y/n knew why he had asked her to handle that aspect. Her ability was mental and emotional manipulation. She could make someone believe a lie, calm down, get angry, or think whatever she wanted them to think. Not huge things, but simple things like "I should trust her" or "I should give her this key card." These thoughts and feelings never lasted and were always followed by a headache that resembled a hangover.

Even tho she could fight, frightfully skilled in martial arts, Steve must have figured her skill would be useful in helping the hostages relax as she moved them out of there. How wrong he was. . .

But martial arts also came in handy if one wanted to move about unseen, which y/n did.

It didn't take her as long as she thought it would to find them. They didn't have them in a cell, basement, or anything like that. They were locked in a bedroom on the second floor. It had two twin beds and a bathroom. For a hostage situation, this was pretty comfortable. Y/n put this off to the fact that Hydra thought they lulled them into a false sense of security so the doctor would do what they wanted.

That was her first mistake.

"I found them," She tried to say over the comms, but all she got was static. Only then did it occur to that she hadn't heard anyone say anything since they entered the house. They were probably jamming the comms.

She felt for her backup earpiece for such situations. It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? *because you forgot to replace it after you last used it. the one time you hadn't used your checklist as you suited up. Steve would surely give you an earful. This was why that man loved checklists.*

She decides to press on anyway

Second mistake.

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked, his accent thick. "Just think of me as your rescue, Doctor Bon, Mrs Bon. I'm y/n, I'm a member of the Avengers and I need you to come with me. Now."

"Those men told us that they were part of shield reborn." Mrs Bon said doubtfully. "Shield reborn? There's no such thing."Well, then if you say we can't trust them, how do we know we can trust you?" Mrs Bon asked doubtfully.

Y/n turned and looked at her, her eyes changing from her usual green to a bright violet and then back again. Mrs Bon blinked a few times and then said, "we should trust her." "What did you do?" Doctor demanded. "Later, Doctor. She'll be fine, tho. You'll all be fine if you follow me." She said firmly.

She had stupidly been confident that she could do it all without any backup or any knowledge of what was happening down below.

"Do you know of a back way out?" She asked. "Um. Yes. They took me on a tour just today." The Doctor said nervously. "Why? Actually, no time. Just tell me where to go, but I lead." She said, exiting the room.

The Doctor told her how to find the servants' stairs, which were hidden behind a rather large painting.

She tried her comms again but nothing.

The stairs seemed to curve on forever until they opened up to a large kitchen. It was empty aside from men laying about with knives sticking out of their chests.

Upon a quick scan of the room, y/n was sure it was safe for them to go.

After a quick dash to the backdoor, she pulled it open, stepping out into the night with them following close behind her. The yard was empty, dark, and soundless. It was now or never.

"Time to go!" She ordered, yanking them along with her as best she could. They would make it. They could duck into the woods. The others would clean up and find them later.

Mission accomplished.

Third and final mistake.

They were nearly there, just about to cross from the manicured lawn into the unkempt woods. But the moment the Bons attempted to cross, they jolted uncontrollably, and then they fell down, dead. . .

Y/n's eyes widened, dropping down, she frantically tried to give them cpr. First one and then the other. Tears stinging her eyes. "Come on!" She screamed. Hands trembling, she felt their necks. They were gone.

Hydra had implanted them so that if they tried to escape, they'd die. But why?

She just besides them until the others found them.

Nobody said anything on the ride home.

5 am.

The moment the jet landed, y/n jumped up, running out before anyone could stop her.

She went to her room slamming and locking the door behind her. Sliding down against it, she gave into the sobs.

Present moment.

Y/n had been sitting in the place since the night before. She didn't care that her legs had long since fallen asleep, that her back ached, her head pounded from crying. A heavy and sour feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said, "Go away."Mr Stark says that there is to be a team meeting in five minutes."

She would be sick.

She knew she had no choice but to go to the meeting. It was mandatory for the official mission file before they filled out their own paperwork. It was a manner of protection for themselves as well as a record.

But that also meant that she'd have to go out there and explain to everyone just how she had failed, how she got them killed.

It was all her fault. All her bloody stupid fault.

"Miss y/n," FRIDAY said as a means to hurry her along.

"Fine." Y/n spat, pushing herself off the floor.

Get it over with.

The walk to the meeting room never felt so long as it had just now. Seeing everyone there, waiting for her to join them, made her blood run cold.

But, she was a part of this team. She had to be held accountable just like they did.

Steve was standing at the head of the table. Scrolling through a tablet that was projected onto the larger screen behind him. He glanced at her when she sat down, a mix of emotion on his face.

"OK. Well, you all know the drill by now. We need everyone's account of what happened last night." He said, sounding almost regretful that he had to ask.

One by one, they went around the table, each describing their movement in the mission. "I stayed on guard duty. No one came in or went out until y/n came out with the hostages. Then I flew to help, when I heard screaming and found that they were, in fact, deceased -" Tony said in a monotone voice. "I stayed on yours and Becky's six. We took out about 80-90 guards and agents before we made it outside and found out what had happened to the Bons." Nat said, choosing not to use the word decased, dead, or anything else remotely related to it. She was friends with y/n she knew how something like this would be to eat you alive from the inside out.

Then, the room grew quiet. Y/n knew it was her turn. They were nice enough not to all stare at her expectantly, but she still felt them pressuring her to tell them what went wrong, what she had done wrong.

She'd probably be put on leave for her stupid recklessness.

Her mouth was dry, heart pounding, and she finally looked up. Eyes meeting Steve's. He, unlike the rest, had been staring. His brows now knit together like they always were when he was thinking. She braced her hands on the table and slowly pulled herself up.

"Last night I was reckless. I forgot my other comm, so when they jammed, I couldn't get in contact with anyone. I didn't pay attention to any of the signs that told me it was too easy. I led them outside, and then they died right in front of me because I didn't even think to check for a chip!" She said, her voice increasing as she went along. "It was all my bloody fault. You can put that in the report, and I'll fill out my paperwork later." She spat and then stormed out of the room.

"Oh, she's not in a good place." Sam commented, sounding concerned. "She can't blame herself for the psychopathic nature of monsters," Bucky said, sighing. "There's no way she would have known about those chips. None of us would." He continued.

"What I want to know is why they were willing to kill them. Those chips have a kill switch. Somebody pressed a button to do it. Why didn't they want them alive?" Stark questioned. "There's something that's more important to keep hidden than having them alive." Steve commented almost absently, his thoughts distracted by something or someone rather. "They took them for a purpose, so they must already have all the schematics on the serum he created." Natasha added.

"He was a fast talker to give them everything in 24 hours. This isn't something you find in a textbook, " Bruce said.

"I want more information on where they were holding them and the agents we found there. Nat, can you head that up?" Steve asked before excusing himself without waiting for her reply.

"FRIDAY, Y/n's whereabouts?" He said once he got in the elevator. "In the kitchen, sir."

Y/n was pouring herself into a cup of coffee. She didn't drink alcohol because well she couldn't. Something about alcohol potentially making your heart stop makes one think twice about it. So she would overload herself with caffeine instead.

She had just picked it up, allowing the mug to warm her hands. Suddenly getting the feeling that she wasn't alone in the room. The last thing she needed was a speech about how it wasn't her fault and that the team was behind her all the way. Because she knew at least the first part of that was a big fat lie.

Finally, the person standing behind her cleared their throat. Steve. Of course. It had to be him.

Slowly, she made herself turn around, but she wouldn't look at him.

"What do you want?" She asked, forcing her voice into a monotone, hoping that he would get the hint and leave her be.

She knew what he wanted. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to reassure her that this didn't change anything.

He stared at her a moment before answering, "y/n, would you look at me, please?" He asked, his voice gentil, nothing at all like his Captain America voice.

She just shook her head, eyes locked on her coffee.

He took a few steps towards her.

"Y/n . . . I know you think that -" "That what? That this all my fault? Check. That you're all disappointed in me? Check. That I'm the reason that the mission failed and two people are died? Check and check. We've established how I feel now." She snapped angrily.

Steve's expression shifted from one of pure concern to slight hurt. Not that she could see that, still refusing to meet his gaze. But he wouldn't allow himself to get offended. He did know how this felt and knew that she didn't mean it.

Carefully, he took a few steps forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Feeling her instantly tense up. "You can yell, cry, get angry. . . Just don't go inward on me." She said nothing, biting her lower lip, looking away, determined to push away what he was offering now. He sighed, not out of frustration with her but worry, "Shortcake, please say something." Shortcake, the nickname he had given her after they first met at that WW2 convention.

"Steve. Just stop being a hero for one second and leave me alone!" She yelled, slamming her coffee down on the counter, making it spill, and storming from the room. "Y/n!" He called.. He wanted to go after her but he respected her wishes and left her alone.

Once she had made it back to the safety of her own room, y/n collapsed on her bed, allowing herself to break down again.

Why had she done that? She knew that he genuinely just wanted to comfort her. But what did she do? Screamed in his face. Right.

She didn't move a muscle and eventually slipped off to sleep. A sleep that made her relieve the day the man she had just yelled at became a part of her life.

It was a cool day in May, y/n was walking around the WW2 convention. Her grandfather, grandmother, great uncles, and great aunts had all served. She grew up on the old stories, the old records, the old newspaper clippings, and books. Her parents had brought her to this convention every year since she could walk, and now that they were gone, she came alone. This time period was a part of who she was. So dressed in period appropriate dress reminiscent of Andrew Sisters' famous uniform, she took in all the sights.

Finally, stopping by a tent set up to be an old fashioned drugstore, complete with ice cream, sodas, lemonade, and sandwiches.

"I'll take a lemonade," She said with a smile. Noticing the man leaning against the other end of the counter. She knew who he was, of course she did, just as she was very aware of who he worked for. Technically she was a colleague of sorts.

He quickly noticed her staring. But instead of looking bothered, he smiled. Slowly, he inched his way closer until he was standing next to her. "Which Andrew sister, are you?" He asked with a grin, making y/n blush. "Well. . Not technically supposed to be any of them. I just like the style. It has a bit more class than modern-day dress blues." "You served?" "Airforce. That is until..."Shield picked you up?" "How did you know?" "I might or might not have seen your file." "Sneaky." "I like to think I'm observant." y/n couldn't help but smile. They weren't lying when they said Steve Roger's was quite the charmer. Finishing off her lemonade, y/n turned to pay for it only for Steve to hold out a five dollar bill to the shop owner. "I - why did you do that?" She asked, baffled. "Because I'm a boy from Brooklyn in the 40s, and we don't let ladies pay for themselves." "Oh. I see." Steve couldn't help it. He was very intrigued and spoke before he could talk himself out of it. "Are you going to the show later?" He asked, referring to the bands and performers who would be performing 40s music that evening.

"I was planning on it." "Uh," He cleared his throat. "Would you like to watch it together." "Mr Roger's are you trying to ask me out?" He nodded, "Yes. Yes, I am." his cheeks tinged with pink. "Well, in that case, yes." He looked at his watch, "We still have about an hour before it starts..." "That we do. . ." She said, almost having pity on the poor man. Here he was, Captain America, and he was actually nervous. "Would you like to walk around with me?" She asked, deciding to make things easier for him. "Sure." He said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. They walked around the field, sharing stories and just getting to know each other. The more they talked, the more Roger's lossened up. The hour flew by before they knew it, so they made their way over to the field. Most of the chairs were already taken by the early birds, so they stood further back. Y/n being only 5 feet tall, struggled to see over the crowd that had also found their way back there. Steve tapped her on the shoulder, "May I?" He asked, gesturing to a stand behind them. She nodded, and he gently picked her up and placed up on it, pulling himself up next to her. They could easily view the show from here. "Thank you for that," she said with a smile. "No problem. You can't help being a shortcake." He grinned. And the nickname just stuck from that point on.

Just a mere three weeks after that, y/n was asked to join the Avengers.

Y/n shot up in bed, room dark, glancing at the clock beside her bed. 3 am. Her heart was pounding, eyes puffy from crying. Her room felt suffocating and oppressive now. "I can't be here." She whispered aloud to herself. Quickly changing her clothes, she made a beeline for the gym, determined to clear her head.

Steve, whose room was on the same floor, heard a door opening and shutting and then the ding of the elevator.

Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He had a feeling as to who might be up and about at this late hour. There were only four of them on this floor and none of them were nightowls. So he knew exactly who it was.

Down in the gym, y/n was in the midst of the wing chun arena. Dodging, then getting in a few hits before leaping to avoid being struck in the legs. Steve walked in and just stood there for a moment, watching her. She was ripping them apart. Tho Steve was sure Stark wouldn't hold it against her.

With a scream, she kicked another apart and kept going. Steve was beginning to worry she'd soon take herself apart too. So, with another sign, he walked towards the arena. Leaping over the wall, making his way around the carnage toward the center where she was, just three more dummies to go.

Stopping just behind her, he said

"Y/n... that's enough. " She ignored him and kicked the top off of the dummies. "Y/n." He said a tad firmer, only to be ignored again.

He cared about her too much to allow her to completely self-destruct in front of him. So he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to turn around. Hands still on her shoulders, he looked down at her, hoping that she could see just how worried he was about her. How much he cared for her.

"That's enough." He tucked hair behind her ear.

"Do you hear me? None of this was your fault. I promise you that we will figure out who did this. We'll find out why. But Shortcake, it's not on you." He said hurriedly, his voice cracking as he pulled her into a crushing hug.

Part 2

#marvel #mcu #Avengers #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #captain america angst

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