#dick: those reflexes are so suspicious kid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

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Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

unfair, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, ft. yoongi

summary: Min Yoongi lived a simple life, alone in his apartment with his dog, Holly. Then he (and his dick) noticed his next-door neighbor. And her boyfriend. But nothing was going to come out of that. They weren’t trying to seduce him... right?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (jk/you); pining/slow burn; overheard smut; smut (fem reader, threesome, m and f-receiving oral); lil fluff; starts off with Yoongi’s POV, then changes to yours when it gets... fun. ;)

Min Yoongi had a problem. A problem most men probably had, but not a problem he was used to. He wasn’t a thirsty kind of guy. For most of his life, he really didn’t care about sexual shit. He had fallen in love, sure, but that was the gradual feeling, the kind that grew slowly but surely, and ultimately burned out when the girls would basically tell him he was boring as fuck. Which he knew he wasn’t. He was just… really garbage at being romantic.

Of course, he was older now, so he had some idea of romance and showing affection, not for his sake but for the sake of loving someone. Even if he was bad at it, the whole point was to try. To be honest, he hadn’t actually put that theory into practice yet, but that was what he had concluded after his last break-up. But now he had a problem.

It was not fucking fair how fucking hot his next-door neighbor was.

It just wasn’t. To whatever higher power was up there, what the actual fuck? Why do this to him, Min Yoongi, of all people? He was a kind boy. A good soul. He didn’t need to step out of his apartment to walk his dog Holly to see his next-door neighbor in a sports bra and leggings wiping her brow with a towel after her morning run. A little sweaty, cheeks flushed, skin glistening. Holy fuck. To top off that banging body, she looked up at him and gave him a confident smile and a polite nod before going into her apartment. Not even embarrassed.

Fuck. Now he had to walk his dog with a hard-on. Great.

To make it even worse, he was pretty sure she was taken. A guy would come around and they would leave together, probably to go on dates. Usually he was in sweats and a bucket hat but this time Yoongi saw him in slacks and a dress shirt.

And, oh, holy hell.

Of course, the guy was fucking handsome as fuck. Nice broad shoulders and muscular arms. Cute face with a mischievous smile and nose scrunch when he laughed. A sweet, tiny mole underneath his lower lip and another on his cheek. Neat black hair swept to one side, begging to have hands running through those strands. Round, brown doe eyes. Thighs could probably crush him and Yoongi would be happy about it. And then she came out of her apartment in her tight black dress and heels, sliding into the guy’s arms so easily and giving him a kiss. The dress showed off her nice round ass and juicy, squeezable thighs.

It was all fucking terrible for Yoongi.

“Ooh, you’re looking pretty for me today, love.”

“Wow, Jungkook, contain yourself for one second so we can at least eat first.”

“I’m ready to eat something, that’s for sure.”

He was not creeping; he was collecting a package outside his door. That was it. He was not the least bit interested in what was going on next to him.

Holly raced out of his apartment, his tiny fluffy brown butt bouncing as he rushed to the people, barking excitedly. Yoongi nearly dropped his package in surprise, shoving it under his arm and rushing over.

“Holly, no! I’m so sorry–”

The guy, Jungkook, laughed as he crouched down, barking back at Holly playfully.

“Aren’t you cute? What’s your name, little one?”

His next-door neighbor smiled at him. Yoongi was ready to crawl into a hole in embarrassment. Not only was he looking frumpy as fuck in a stained white t-shirt and black sweats, but he was also struggling to wrangle Holly with a large box under his arm. To top it off, Jungkook was not making it any easier by chasing Holly around. Yoongi’s black hair was messy and unbrushed, long enough to almost cover his eyes. He was basically a hobo compared to these two.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, he’s a bit–”

“It’s okay.”

He froze up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

He swallowed. “H-Holly.” Oh shit. He accidentally looked at her chest. Why did she have such pretty collarbones? She seemed not to notice. Instead she looked over to Jungkook who was wrestling with Holly on the floor and rubbing his belly.

“He’s really cute,” she said with a smile. “You don’t mind if Jungkook plays with him a little, do you?”

“N-no,” Yoongi mumbled, biting his lip. She had plump, shapely lips stained red.

She held her hand out. “I only moved in last month.” He placed her hand in hers. She had a nice, firm handshake. She was telling him her name and he was imagining her hand wrapped around his cock. He needed to get a grip.

“Min Yoongi,” he said robotically. What are social skills? Yoongi didn’t remember any of them at the moment.

“That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she was saying, pointing to the young man on the floor. Holly was licking his hands excitedly. Yoongi noticed a small heart tattooed onto Jungkook’s right hand. Fuck. He had nice hands too. His cock was waking up. Oh fuck.

“Come on, Holly, we have to go now.”

“Aww,” Jungkook whined. Why the fuck was this guy so fucking cute? Please have mercy. Jungkook waved to Holly with a smile. “See you later, Holly!”

Yoongi bowed awkwardly and scurried back into his apartment, Holly bounding in behind him as he shut the door. He barely even squeaked out a goodbye. He didn’t have a chance because – yup, now he had a giant boner.

Holly wagged his tail and barked up at Yoongi, who sighed and shook his head.

His brother asked to take Holly for a while. It was fine with Yoongi; his older brother was going camping with his wife and Holly loved being outdoors. Actually, he invited Yoongi, but Yoongi knew he wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of guy and suggested Holly to go instead. Holly loved Yoongi’s brother – maybe even more than Yoongi himself, the traitor. To be honest, if his brother decided to have kids soon, Yoongi had always said it would be a good idea for Holly to grow up with them. Dogs were an essential part of childhood, after all.

That’s why Yoongi was sitting alone in his apartment, reading, with no dog noises around him to distract him. It was nice, quiet, and serene.

Or it would be, if it wasn’t for his next-door neighbor literally fucking up a storm.

Instead, Yoongi was seething at the shared wall next to him as he was very clearly hearing someone getting banged. Which was fine, because people were allowed to do what they wanted. Yoongi didn’t care. Except he did kind of care, because he was absolutely sure it was Jungkook fucking the daylights out of his hot-as-fuck next door neighbor. It was also upsetting because his dick was suddenly awake and saying hello as if he had been called to attention.

But, nope, it was just Yoongi sitting alone glaring at the wall that separated him and giving the two of them a piece of his mind.

Or his meat.

He frowned and made a face. He didn’t have thoughts like that. No, not him, Min Yoongi. He was pure, he definitely did not have any naughty thoughts, nope, not a single o–

A particularly lustful moan of Jungkook’s name cut though his thoughts.

Was he sitting at the chair closest to the wall? Maybe. Well, he was. Could he just move to his kitchen and not hear anything? Yes. Was he going to move?

No.

What number was this anyway? Did Jungkook have the stamina of a horse or something? Not that Yoongi cared, mind you. He certainly did not. It was interesting to think about, that’s all. And then he heard something he thought he would never, ever hear.

“Oh, fuck, Yoooongi!”

Um, what? Did he hear that correctly? Yoongi sat up, raising an eyebrow at the wall. It must have been his imagination, surely, because the sound of skin on skin was not stopping. There was no way she had said the wrong name by accident, right? And Jungkook wouldn’t just let her blurt some other guy’s name out for no reason, right?

He glared at the wall suspiciously, as if it could answer.

Eventually the sounds died down, which was a relief. Hours went by and all Yoongi could think about was her saying his name. There was no way she accidentally said his name while getting fucked by Jungkook. Making that kind of mistake was unforgivable. He ended up ordering take out because to be honest he couldn’t really concentrate on cooking. Yoongi frowned as his doorbell pinged, walking to the door automatically. He must have manifested his thoughts or something like that. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. It was his imagination, surely–

“Hey, did you order delivery? The person accidentally dropped it off at our door.”

Yoongi almost fell over.

His next-door neighbor blinked at him as he struggled to find his words. She was wearing a big baggy white t-shirt that clung to her body. No pants. The bag was in front of her chest. He could barely see the light pink of her panties.

“Ah, it wasn’t the other door. Is it his?”

Jungkook bounded over, black hair messy, his doe-like eyes wide with curiosity. Grey t-shirt, gray sweatpants. Tattoos going up his right arm. Yoongi nearly had a heart attack seeing his muscular arms.

“Uh, ah–yes, it’s mine, sorry–”

She smiled and held it out to him.

“Here you go.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head – she wasn’t wearing a bra, holy shit – and he nearly dropped the bag if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s quick reflexes placing his hand at the bottom of the bag.

“Whoa, careful there.”

Thankfully his arm was now blocking her tits so Yoongi snatched the bag and bowed profusely, mumbling apologies.

“Sorry to trouble you.”

“It’s no problem,” she said brightly. “Enjoy your meal.”

She waved and Yoongi finally looked up, seeing her body turned away from him. Oh, whew. Then he looked up to their faces.

And found both of them smirking at him before they went back into her apartment.

“They’re fucking with me, Hoseok!”

“Calm down, hyung. I think you’re thinking about it too much.”

That’s what his best friend Jung Hoseok told him over dinner. Yoongi was having none of it.

“How can I be over-thinking it when they’re smirking at me at my front door?”

Hoseok winced. “I don’t know, maybe you imagined it. Why would your next-door neighbor and her boyfriend do something like that?”

“I don’t know, it’s not bad, it’s just–”

“Wait, you like it?”

“… I didn’t–”

Hoseok had burst out laughing like a lunatic.

The laughter rang in Yoongi’s ears as he stood at his front door, silently fuming. He shouldn’t have told Hoseok. But who was he supposed to tell? He wasn’t that close with many of his friends, after all. And Hoseok didn’t end up being mean about it in the end. Yoongi rubbed his forehead, shoving his hair under his black cap. Ah, it was probably just an empty hope after all. He was over-thinking it. Only an absolute loon would think that his next-door neighbor and her boyfriend wanted to have a threesome with him.

“Yoongi?”

He jumped, jerking away from his door suddenly. She stared at him, lip quivering, a worried look on her face. Cropped pink sweatshirt and leggings. Whew, at least she was clothed.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. Is this a bad time?”

“I wasn’t scared,” he said automatically. “Only surprised.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, what was it?”

“Oh, I just…” She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, fluffing her hair. Fuck. Stop being cute. “I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen you walk Holly lately. I was wondering if he was okay?”

Oh. Right. His dog. “Ah, Holly is with my brother right now. He’s fine. We sort of have shared custody of him since we all grew up together,” Yoongi added with an awkward smile. Ack. Social skills, what even are they?

“Oh, that’s a relief!” She placed a hand on her chest and smiled. “I’m sorry if I was being too nosy.”

He waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Who wouldn’t notice? You always looked so happy walking him.” He was pretty sure his heart was going to burst if she kept smiling at him like that. “You’re so cute when you smile.”

“Ah…” Hang on, what? His cheeks began to warm.

“You must love dogs.”

Right. His dog. He chuckled. “I don’t usually, but somehow Holly made his way into my heart.”

She looked rueful. “I’m jealous of him.”

What?

“It must be difficult to win your heart.”

Was she… flirting with him?

She smiled innocently at him but those eyes were giving him a different story. The mischievous sparkle made his response die in his throat. He stared at her for a good minute.

“What… about Jungkook?”

“What about me?”

Yoongi felt his entire body freeze. He was caught. Shit, shit, shit.

Jungkook brushed past him ever-so-slightly, hand lingering on Yoongi’s jacket-covered arm before he hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead. She smiled up at him. Jungkook grinned at her and turned back to Yoongi with a bright bunny-like smile.

“Hey.”

Yoongi looked away quickly, realizing he was observing much too closely. “Er, hello.”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

He swallowed and looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Her lips curved into a sly smile.

“If you’re ever feeling up to it, we would love you to come over sometime.”

Jungkook grinned. “Any time!”

Oh, fuck. Jungkook’s hands were on her waist, sliding down slowly. Tongue in his teeth as she leaned against his chest with that foxy smile. Yoongi opened his mouth, but the only sound he made was an awkward croak. He coughed and looked away.

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Yoongi hastily fumbled with the door lock and ran into his apartment, praying that neither of them could see his blushing face and his massive hard-on.

“They said you could come over any time. You are not crazy. You are just being nice.”

Yoongi stood in front of his next door-neighbor’s door like a zombie, clutching one bottle of red wine and a bottle of whiskey for dear life. He had contemplated his outfit three times before deciding that a long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and ripped gray denim jacket was not trying too hard. But just to be sure, he wore his nicer black boxer briefs and not the ones with holes in them.

Just…

In case.

“They don’t want to fuck you. They’re being nice.”

The door suddenly opened.

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He sputtered. “A-ah!”

Oh my god.

Was it even possible for a woman to be this pretty? Decked in a floaty, red dress with a delicate bow around her neck and fluffy white slippers, his next-door neighbor seemed surprised to see him. The fabric floated down and clung to her curves, dipping inward in between her legs. Her eyebrows raised in surprise and her plump lips curved into a small ‘o’.

“Yoongi! I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes! Jungkook told me he just arrived.”

“I’m here, darling.”

Jungkook’s deep voice purred behind Yoongi. The older man nearly jumped and turned to see Jungkook right behind him – how long had he been there? Black t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black sneakers. Jungkook’s lips curved into a mischievous smile and he leaned over Yoongi, his chest brushing against Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi felt his heartbeat skyrocket at the sudden closeness until he realized Jungkook was kissing his girlfriend on the forehead, patting her head gently.

“Fancy for a just watching a movie,” Jungkook teased. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I just bought this dress! I can wear whatever I want.”

“Yes, you can, and you look cute in it too.”

Yoongi would have been paying attention except he suddenly felt Jungkook’s hand against his back, sliding slightly downwards. He froze, breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he was starved for intimacy or anything. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but, shit, what was he supposed to do with two very obviously hot as fuck people were seducing him? Ignore it?

No, he most certainly was not.

Yoongi stumbled, nerves rattling him. He felt strong arms hold him straight.

“Oh, sorry, did you trip?” Jungkook asked, worry laced in his voice.

“Ack, where are my manners? Come in, come in.”

He felt Jungkook push him lightly. Yoongi swallowed and stepped inside the apartment, still clutching the two bottles of alcohol for dear life. He was afraid that if he let go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from… uh. Things. Breathe deep, Min Yoongi. You are not fifteen.

“These… are for you.”

He held out the two bottles to her. She tilted her head as she read the labels, taking them from him. It took all of Yoongi’s power not to grab her tits.

“Oh, thank you! Look, Jungkook, he bought red wine, your favorite!”

Jungkook bounded past him excitedly and took the bottle from her. “Ah, yesss! All for me!”

Yoongi blinked. “You don’t drink?”

She tapped the whiskey bottle. “I do. Just not wine.”

Watching a movie? Yeah, right.

How was Yoongi supposed to watch anything at all? One look at Jungkook in his loose black t-shirt and, fuck, he was reminded the guy’s entire right arm was tattooed. Holy shit. And her? Wrapped so nicely in floaty red fabric with that bow around her neck. It meant the dress had a deep neckline and he could see the curve of her cleavage, the plushness of her breasts.

Fuck this movie. Yoongi literally had no idea what was on the screen at this point.

She leaned against Jungkook as he sipped his wine. Every so often, she poured herself a shot of whiskey and drank it. Like… what? Granted, it wasn’t very much, but he had never seen a woman just… do that. She would smile and settle back onto the couch, into the curve of Jungkook’s arm. His tattooed arm. Jungkook would then drape it around her again, fingertips almost touching her breast. All this, happening within ten inches of Yoongi, who was sitting on her right side.

He didn’t know what number he was on now. Yoongi wasn’t a lightweight but he couldn’t calm his nerves either. Nerves or growing lust?

Both.

Yoongi looked away and stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he was looking at. All he could think about was faceplanting into those tits and Jungkook’s hands all over him. Or her sitting on his face as Jungkook sucked him off. Or, her sitting on Jungkook’s face and him sucking Jungkook off–

“Yoongi.”

He nearly flung his glass in surprise but she reached over and took it from him. Her breasts brushed against his arm and Yoongi stiffened, trying to keep his face neutral.

“I think you need to slow down. Are you okay?” she said worriedly, placing the whiskey glass on the coffee table.

“No.” He shook his head quickly and cleared his throat. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

Jungkook and her stared at him.

Yoongi raised a hand and took a deep breath. “Er… I am getting this feeling,” he said awkwardly.

She tilted her head. “Hm?”

“It’s nothing.”

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no. If you’re not comfortable, then we understand. You should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

No, that’s not really what I want. I want to fuck, damnnit!

“Ah…” Yoongi swallowed at the sudden attention placed on him. “It’s not that.” He was a straightforward person. He didn’t know how to make it sound metaphorical or pretty. “You two have a very strong… presence.”

She frowned slightly. “Is that bad for you?”

“N-no. It’s, er… attractive.”

Oh shit. He said it.

“Ah, I meant–” Yoongi coughed, looking away quickly. “The other day… I thought I heard my name… But it must have been a mistake, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say such–”

A softness pressed against him. Yoongi wasn’t wearing his jacket, only his long-sleeved white shirt. He froze. The softness slid up his arm. He could feel the weight of her body against him. His brain was turning into mush. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“You heard me?” The words purred against his neck, hot and heavy.

He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Yoongi tried to collect his words, fumbling through them.

“N-not on purpose…”

“You want me to say your name again? So you can hear it in person?”

The weight lifted. Slowly, Yoongi turned his head. His eyes trailed up her legs, to the floaty red fabric, to her waist, then up her chest to her face. She smiled slyly at him. Strong hands, one tattooed, one not, slid up her sides, grasping the bottom ties that held the bow together. Jungkook’s mischievous face popped up from behind her head. Yoongi just stared at them, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like a surprised kitten.

The bow teased apart, slowly. Jungkook’s hands slid inside the fabric, pushing it away. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. Jungkook cupped her breasts gently, rubbing his palms over them. She was wearing heart shaped pasties to cover her nipples. Yoongi was aware that he could run right now. He could have just stood up and walked out and that weirdness would have been over. Except, well…

His hand lifted. Yoongi hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes.

She smirked and wrapped her fingers around his. His heart thumped loudly in his ribcage as she led him to her chest.

“You can take it off, if you want,” she said gently.

Yoongi swallowed as his fingertips touched her breast. Oh, so soft. He hooked a nail underneath the sticky material and pulled lightly. Nothing. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Little harder, Yoongi.”

His name was a soft purr. Yoongi bit his lower lip and yanked a little harder. It came off in his hand. He blinked rapidly in surprise, hoping he didn’t hurt her. His second thought was…

Holy shit, her nipple.

It was prominent, sticking straight out at him. It would have been visible through the fabric of the dress due to its size. Thinking about that was arousing him. Yoongi felt as if his whole face was heating up. He vaguely registered Jungkook peeling off the second one and dropping it on the coffee table. Now there were two – great math there, Yoongi, he scolded himself – and he sat like a statue, unable to comprehend that this was real.

Jungkook pushed her breasts together, trapping her nipples between his index and middle finger. He rolled them slowly. Yoongi watched in fascination as her eyes slid closed and her head tipped back, a breathy moan dripping from her lips. Jungkook squeezed and kneaded her breasts, nose buried in her neck as he inhaled deeply, murmuring her name. Her eyelids fluttered.

“A-ah… Yoongi…”

There was no wall blocking his view now. It was real.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. He was still too afraid to touch.

“Y-yes?”

Her hand came up and stroked his cheek softly. He leaned into her touch, hungry. Her thumb pressed against his lips.

“Wanna kiss you.”

He cursed his bad habit of chewing on his lips, but leaned forward delicately. His eyes flickered to Jungkook, who was watching him with amusement. He wanted to ask. Are you sure? Jungkook seemed to understand and he nodded, smile turning gentler at Yoongi’s nervousness.

His eyes found hers again. Her lips parted. She led him to her face, closing her eyes slowly as her lips touched his. So soft, so gentle. It wasn’t the kiss he expected from his daydreams. It was warm and calm, soothing his nerves. His hands came up to cup her cheeks as the kiss deepened, tongue dancing against tongue. Everything just felt so soft. So lovely.

He felt Jungkook take his hands and slide them down. Yoongi gasped into her mouth as his palms touched her nipples. She moaned at his touch, nipping at his lower lip as he squeezed them, rolling her nipples with his thumb. They were just the right measure of hardness and softness. Her hands found his jeans and she pulled him closer by the waist, his body against hers.

“Yoongi-ssi…”

It wasn’t her voice. It was Jungkook’s, leaning forward and pushing up his shirt, running his hands over his skin. Yoongi gasped, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was so obvious that Jungkook was more muscular and stronger than he was. But she held him close, kissing his jaw and neck. Jungkook’s face came into view, small smile dancing on his lips.

“I can call you that, right? Even though you’re my hyung?”

At this point, Yoongi didn’t even remember what honorifics were. “Whatever you want,” he muttered breathlessly. Jungkook chuckled and leaned forward, placing his lips on his. Oh, yes. More passionate, intense. Yoongi felt himself moan into Jungkook’s mouth and the younger man sucked on his tongue, hands along his back, pressing him into her.

It took a moment to untangle slightly. Breathing hard, Yoongi found himself looking into two pairs of lustful eyes.

“What do you want to do, Yoongi?”

Seducing Min Yoongi hadn’t been easy. There had been moments where you wondered if you had gone too far, or if Jungkook had teased him a little too much. It had been a long, carefully laid out plan. In fact, Jungkook almost gave up in the middle at one point and tried to convince you that he should hump him to get the message across. It had been a little difficult. But it was all worth it.

Because now you two managed to get Yoongi in the bedroom, flat on his back, your pussy in his face and Jungkook’s mouth on his cock. And oh, fuck, his fucking tongue. It had taken some more fondling and kisses to make Yoongi say it.

“Could I… eat you out while Jungkook sucks me off? Is that too much or–”

You grinded your hips into Yoongi’s face, sucking in a breath as Jungkook’s head bobbed up and down on Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook naked was already enough to make you wet. His muscular back, that ass, his tattooed arm, and his forearms flexing as he held Yoongi’s hips down. Could he suck dick as well as you? No, but he had a pretty good idea considering you were excellent at it. Watching Yoongi’s cock slide in and out of his mouth was a delicious sight. Yoongi’s tongue lapping at your clit had you dripping into his mouth. Somehow, he had just the right amount of pressure and roughness as he stroked you to climax, nails digging into your thighs.

You moaned in satisfaction, panting Yoongi’s name. Jungkook’s brown eyes flickered up to you and he made a muffled noise as he witnessed you playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling on them lightly. You saw his hips jerk, humping the bed. You grinned. Teasing Jungkook was fun.

Yoongi tapped your leg and you got up, concerned. But he was clutching the sheets, gasping, head thrown back as he groaned, shoving his crotch into Jungkook’s face. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gripped Yoongi’s hips, swallowing nosily as Yoongi’s entire body shuddered.

“F-fuck!”

You smiled as Jungkook sucked him dry, slowly rubbing his tongue around Yoongi’s cock as he cleaned him up. Yoongi did not seem like he was expecting this at all and moaned loudly, probably a little too loud. Jungkook dipping his head slowly, down, down, until the sensitive head hit the back of his throat. Yoongi’s face scrunched up, slipping into a moan as Jungkook slowly pulled back, Yoongi’s cock popping out of his lips.

Jungkook grinned. “Did I do good?”

You smiled. “Of course, my love.”

Yoongi squinted at him. “How the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

Jungkook pointed to you. “From the best.”

You smiled and Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Can I try something?” Jungkook asked, tugging on your arm.

You nodded. “What is it?”

Jungkook pulled you to him and kissed you, smiling against your lips. He readjusted you to be on top of Yoongi, your back to his chest. Yoongi made a disgruntled noise, but you rubbed your ass against his still sensitive cock, making him gasp. His hands wrapped around you. Yoongi had pretty hands, the kind of hands that made you pause the first time you saw him, the kind of hands you dreamed about touching you, the kind of hands that made your body melt. You were a bit disappointed that you couldn’t see Yoongi’s handsome face in his position but Jungkook was lifting your legs now, setting them on his shoulders. The condom was already on.

Jungkook smirked.

Was this man really going to expose your favorite position right now?

“Jung–fuuuuuck!”

His cock slid into you, slow and deep and hard. You yelped, feeling Yoongi grab your breasts and knead them. You liked this position for several reasons – one, Jungkook had you basically trapped under his body, and, two, Jungkook had power and gravity on his side. Thus, he could fuck you hard and deep at the same time, absolutely ruining you. And watch your face while he was doing it.

“Jungkook, ah, so deep,” you moaned, leaning against Yoongi’s chest as he pinched your nipples. Your pussy clenched, squeezing Jungkook’s cock inside you.

“That’s how you like it,” he drawled, rolling his hips into you, making his cock throb. You whimpered, looking deep into Jungkook’s eyes. Yoongi pinched your nipples and you whined as Jungkook thrust into your leisurely, burying himself in your folds.

“Whose idea was it to scream Yoongi’s name while we were fucking, hm?” Jungkook teased, fucking with such force that your ass bounced against Yoongi’s dick each time. You could feel him getting hard as your ass rubbed against it.

“M-mine,” you reply, earning you a slightly harder pace.

“So naughty,” Jungkook purred, licking his lips. “You wanted Yoongi so bad, didn’t you, love?”

You could only moan as Jungkook began to fuck you harder. Yoongi’s cock was smearing pre-cum all over you. You tried to desperately rub your ass against his cock, feeling it throb underneath you. It wetly slapped your ass every time Jungkook bounced you up and down.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grunted, kissing your neck. “Fuck, you two are seriously not fair.”

“Yoongi, ah, Jungkook…”

Yoongi rolled your nipples against his fingers and pinched them. You cried out, pussy clenching as your orgasm hit you, so overflowed with stimulation that you could barely think. Jungkook gritted his teeth, maintaining his pace as they worked you up again, Yoongi’s fingers rolling your nipples and Jungkook fucking you deep. It was an absolute mess of your own cum dripping down and Yoongi’s pre-cum mixing with it. The head of Yoongi’s hard cock was rubbing against your ass. You could watch Jungkook thrusting in and out of you, shiny and glistening.

“Ah, fuuuuck!”

You moaned as you came again, thick juices gushing down and coating Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook shuddered at your pussy tightening around him. You felt Yoongi’s hips shudder as he sucked in a breath sharply, groaning at the sensitivity as he came on your ass and up your thigh, splattering onto Jungkook’s legs.

Jungkook grinned triumphantly before fucking you even harder. It didn’t take long before he hissed, cock jerking inside you as he came, your name dragged out in a long moan. His jaw clenched, hips thrusting a little to get the last drops out of his softening cock.

After a moment, he pulled out, leaving you panting and sore in Yoongi’s arms. He got up to clean himself off, looking for a towel. Yoongi buried his face in your neck. You could feel his warm cheeks.

“Sorry about the bed,” he mumbled.

You reached back and petted his hair, breathing his name. You rubbed your ass against him and Yoongi stiffened. It made you grin.

“Stay the night, Yoongi.”

He nuzzled your hair even though he grumbled a bit.

“F-fine.”

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #bts smut #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut

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mirrerover · 4 years ago

Text

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks.

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could.

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all.

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre.

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare.

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now.

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

----------------------

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

#jaydick #jaydick-flashfic #jaydick-flashfic: big plans #jason todd #dick grayson #mirre writes

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thelastyetfabolousmidwestmadman · 5 years ago

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Detective Conan Deconstruction/Plot Twists/Subversion's

Howdy!

I've been thinking a lot because I haven't slept or been made sensible enough to see reality through rational means of comprehension.

For a black and white series of tales such as Gosho Aoyama's DCMKverse I can sure think of a multitude of ways to turn it grey. So many dark, bloody possibilities, such a endless plethora of grief, angst, and schadenfreude, of voided bowels and lost innocence, so many terrifying ideas yet so little time...

Anyway, to summarize the contents of all that verbal diarrhea, my mind has created a vast orchestra of sinister ideas that I can't put them all in one or more stories. Some of them I'll use later, some of them I will not. I guess my main inspiration for this stream of consciousness that shouts madly into the abyss of the World Wide Web, is the idea that some intrepid, curious wanderer may come across my inane rantings and be inspired to write their own atrocities.

Or maybe it will the stoke the wondrous imagination of a writer who is more of a sick fuck then I am, (:

There are five areas that can be twisted into something cruel. They contain the following:

Cases

Heists

Romance

Character Flaws

Black Organization

Get it on!

Case’s

Suspect Gets The Last Laugh- Killer is revealed but manages to poison the victim with Ricin or something more subtle allowing the target to die a couple days later. Simple enough.

More Then One Killer- The killer is caught! However a quick look back at the scene reveals he wasn’t alone and he ain’t spilling the beans.

Hannibal Lector Wannabe- A killer decides to fuck with our beloved Teen Detectives by playing a game of manipulation and horror while he threatens their loved ones into continuing.

Escaping Through Statute Of Limitations- When Our Teen Detectives decide to give their customary breaking speech,

Killer Gets Out Of It, Now After Detectives- The killer proves much too clever and sees through our casts tricks. Maybe he begin’s to notice Conan’s con and swears revenge out of his ego.

Loved Ones Hurt In The Crossfire- They were too quick for Conan’s soccer ball, Heiji’s sword, Kogoro’s Judo, or Division One’s reflexes. The bullets, blades, bludgeons. and Pelvic Thrusts couldn’t be avoided and the innocent were hurt before they could be saved.

It’s Too Much All At Once- When the cast see a suspect state his intention to kill himself, especially in the early episodes, the cast would dare them to do it, thinking it is a bluff. It isn’t.

All For Naught- Going down a dark rabbit hole isn’t worth it, if a killer turns out to have escaped or has been dead for a long time.

Big Troll- There was no murder or kidnapping, they just wanted to humiliate them.

Green Mistake- Not all detectives succeed at once. Sometimes they make mistakes... Okay just here me out here. I sincerely doubt that all those amateur detectives despite their talent have a perfect track record in solving cases or even not getting a innocent person hurt. Just look at Heiji’s, Kogoro’s, and Sera’s early (or in Kogoro’s case many) mistakes. It’s statistically impossible to get it right all the time.

Victim Is Worse- Conan and the gang successfully prevent a client from being murdered. The criminal screams at them, telling them how evil he was, and how this was mistake. When they learn of the clients sick actions, they understand why.

Romance

Waiting For Someone Who Is No Longer There- Lets think about the situation between Shinichi and Ran for a sec. if your like me you come to a unfortunate realization that was also in the OVA “Stranger In 10 Years.” Shinichi may never get back to the way he was. Maybe there is no antidote. What if he disappears in that time? And I don’t mean move on, I mean dies without anyone knowing. Ran now has to deal with both a missing Shinichi and a vanished Conan. Yet, throughout her whole life Ran holds out hope, waiting for them. Waiting for Shinichi to call. She refuses to fall in love with someone else and becomes obsessed with finding them... Until in her old age, she dies.

The Sleeping Sleuth Sleeps Around- Okay just listen to my reasoning here for a sec. I know many of you are probably sharpening their knives in the comments but let’s really think about this for a sec. This is the same Kogoro who smacked the butt of one of the Black Bunnies, and repeatedly motorboats whatever young woman he comes across. I doubt if Eri is okay with that. Plus, alcoholism and nymphomania is not a winning combination. He could easily make a mistake while in his delirium.

Shinichi’s Toxic Jealousy- Once again bear with me on this. I don’t think either Shinichi (or Kogoro for that matter) are evil. They have flaws just like any other person. However, Shinichi can be sort of a dick with it comes to how territorial he is with Ran. Just look at Eisuke. Unlike most of the perverts who are after her, Eisuke is a genuinely nice guy and Shinichi treats him like garbage. That got me thinking... Maybe Shinichi’s claims about wanting Ran to be happy aren’t entirely true. A part of him knows what he’s doing is wrong but a selfish side can’t. What if Shinichi’s jealousy starts to hurt Ran severely? Again it have to be written well so Shinichi doesn’t come off like a unrepentant dick but I think there’s something there.

Character Flaws

Hot Headedness Get You Or Others Killed- This idea concerns Heiji mostly. A rather temperamental fellow isn’t he? Always rushing into danger without thinking or having trouble with guile... Ain’t that a losing combination innit? I wonder how many criminals can take advantage of that eh? How easy it would be to trick Heiji to go into a trap if Kazuha is threatened, how simple it would be to switch a blunted blade with a sharpened one, how effortless it would be to get important information, how utterly painless it would be to manipulate him... Well I’ll leave you lovely sick bastards to come up with more.

Dysfunction Junction- Let’s talk about the Mouri’s. They’re... Not healthy to say the least. With Kogoro’s gambling/drinking/man-whoring problem barely touched upon, as well as his abuse of Conan along with Eri’s absenteeism I can say that’s a huge target for blackmailers, debt collectors, and Count Of Monte Crisco wannabes.

Conan The Gremlin- Y’know for such a seemingly innocent little boy, he sure gets into a lot of trouble don’t he? Murders keep happening around him like a curse, and that animal tranquilizer can’t be healthy for Sonoko and Kogoro... Plus people could find out who he truly is and... Well it would probably be really messy wouldn’t it?

Incompetence From The Police- In all seriousness, let’s think about this for a second. You have a overburdened police dealing with a intense rise in the murder rate, illicit narcotic consumption, and terrorism... But before we can get any further let’s talk about real life Japanese criminal procedure. In Japan you can be held for 21 days in a tiny dark cell without due process or access to a lawyer. Your are also being interrogated with the police officers using abusive tactics such as telling you how ashamed your family would be, something that can’t happen in a culture based on Confucian values. You confess but take it back only to find that you’re basically fucked since Japan has a 99% conviction rate regardless of innocence. If your a drug addict, you are literally considered nonhuman by the public at large and due to the Reaganite standards treatment isn’t a option. If your on death row, you are never told when your going to die and even if innocent is unlikely to get out. Stressed at the rising crime rate, the police refuse to investigate any suspicious death and just like in Osaka (yes this actually happened) will simply not add to the police statistics. If your a police officer what are you to do? Just a few years ago there was so little crime and now your stressed to the bone. You’re largely conservative and full of pride so you won’t admit that you must change tactics. This quick jump to conclusions and borderline incompetence can be seen in so many episodes of Detective Conan that’s it’s a wonder that more people haven’t been wrongfully convicted or got away with it... Or perhaps they have.

Black Organization

Government Corruption- Given how much sway the BO has, it got me thinking. What if everything wrong with the Japanese Government is because the BO IS the government. Something sorta akin to how the Russian Mob are basically government officials. So many possibilities other then the usual blackmail, assassinations, and bombings. Electoral fraud, jury tampering, manufacturing consent, subtle revisions of the law to encroach on democratic rights such as those the Third Way, and Neoconservatives did in the west. So many more subtle yet intriguing ways to go about this! Perhaps the BO serves as a lobbying for other more savory companies that proudly align with them such as legalizing gambling or deregulating protections.

Caught!- The BO discovers Conan’s true identity. Hell follows.

Heists

Heist Bombing- Some madman or maybe the MK organization decides to bomb the Kid Heist. Lots of people die, are traumatized and have to deal with the aftermath. I’ll leave the rest up to you guys.

Crazy Fans- Self explanatory until you really think about it. If Kaito Kid is real in this universe, how toxic is the fandom? How many of them have pedophilic undertones with the beloved Kid Killer? What if a stalker discovers Kaito’s real identity and goes psychotic? Riots could happen! So many possibilities! Doesn’t have to dark like in my sick mind, can be played for laughs.

One last thing, because of how long this took to write, a certain beloved detective’s birthday is here.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIN-CHAN!!!

#magic kaito #detective conan #kaito kuroba #shinchi kudo #conan edogawa #ran mouri #suzuki sonoko #Black Organization #Eri Kisaki #Eisuke Hondou #Sato Miwako #heiji x kazuha #heiji hattori #kazuha toyama #sera masumi

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touchingoldmagic · 4 years ago

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Day 24 - Jillian Holtzmann Being Weird

Day 24 of the 30 Day Ghostbusters Challenge!

Author’s Notes: Takes place after the Crossing Over storyline of the comics. Warnings for Ron's use of language, as usual. Mentions Ron x Bryan.

"What are you doing here!?" Bryan Welsh blurted out, then immediately looked contrite. "Er, I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"

Jillian didn't seem to take offense. "Hello, Windy City!" she said by way of introduction. Bryan was standing behind the front desk at the Chicago Ghostbusters HQ. She reached across the desk and shook his hand. "Jillian Holtzmann. I think we met briefly while keeping the multiverse from collapsing. Please, don't trouble yourself remembering who put that little ball in motion. Ha."

Bryan still looked a little dazed and turned to their administrative manager, Kim, for help. She was seated at the desk, studiously typing up a report on their last case and staying out of the entire conversation.

Bryan hated when he had to awkwardly look for words. "Yes, ah, Dr. Holtzmann, I remember you. I--we didn't expect--aren't you from another dimension?"

Kim raised her eyebrows almost to her hairline but did not look up from her keyboard.

"I'm here for a visit. It's scientific. Perfectly legal. Mostly. Besides, I have a chaperone." The blond physicist hooked an arm around the smaller woman who had entered the building with her.

"I'm not a chaperone," Kylie grumbled. "I was coming here anyway and she tagged along. There's an estate sale this afternoon downtown, some guy who was a big name in occult studies. I'm here to see if I can pick up some books for the boss."

"Oh, the Pickering Estate?" Bryan asked. "I think Dani was going to go, too. Maybe you two could go together."

Kylie looked surprised. "I didn't know Dani was interested in the research aspect of the biz."

Bryan shrugged. "Well she said we didn't have anyone to do it and we should, and she seems to be taking it pretty seriously so far. Our spare room has two bookshelves full now."

"Oh yeah? Anything good?" To say books were one of Kylie's interests was a bit of an understatement.

Bryan shrugged, looking embarrassed. "Oh, I guess? I dunno, really, but she'll be back from lunch soon and you could ask her."

While the two were talking, Jillian took one careful step backward, then another. Then, seeing as no one had any reaction, she turned and hurried down the hall that led past the front reception area and deeper into the building.

The short hall had three other doors and a stairwell. "Women's intuition is telling meeeeee... this one." Jillian pointed at the first door on the left and pushed it open without knocking.

Inside the small office space was a desktop covered in broken pencils, paperwork, schematics, tools, loose screws, and bits of oily spare parts leaving stains on the desk blotter. Behind the desk was Ron Alexander, feet propped up on a desk drawer that jutted open and hat pulled down low over his face to cover his eyes.

"Boo-yah," Jillian said with satisfaction.

Ron looked up. "Oh fuck, you," he sighed in recognition.

"I decline," Jillian returned immediately, making Ron look confused for a moment, but she continued before he could get a word in. "Thought I'd stop by and say hi. Nice city. So how're you doing, Ronny?"

"Call me that again and I'll kick your ass."

"Great. Listen, Ronny," Jillian plowed on without pausing for breath. "You remember anything about the thing in New York? I mean, obviously you do. We both do. But the details? The notes we scribbled all over the walls of your friend's place during the planning stages? Remember any of that? Anything specific?"

Ron put his feet down and sat up, as it seemed getting the talkative blond out of his office wasn't going to be as easy as just ignoring her. "Nope."

"Me either." Jillian tipped her head and narrowed her eyes at the wall over Ron's head. He didn't have anything hanging there, so he assumed she was thinking about something. Though with her it was hard to tell. "It's possible rapid and multiple crossing of dimensions might impair localization of long-term memory or something," she admitted.

"Or something," Ron muttered, a lot more suspicious than the physicist, and therefore a lot quicker to jump to conclusions. "I have a feeling those losers in New York had something to do with it."

"Those are my friends," Jillian pointed out in a careful tone (which was interesting to hear, as she hardly ever sounded careful in her life).

"I was talking about the ones with dicks," Ron said.

Jillian considered that for a moment. "Those ones are also my friends," she decided.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Look, I don't remember shit and the notes are gone, so that's it. I don't even care, it was more trouble than it's worth. I'm not jumping through hoops again the next time the universes decide to collapse. Or spending another week in the hospital." His hand reflexively went to his chest and then he quickly put his hand down at his side again. "So if that's it feel free to leave, and don't let the door smack you on the ass on your way out."

"Wasn't here for that," Jillian insisted. "Just curious. My plane's not leaving 'til tonight. We've got time. We could get lunch." Jillian warmed up to this idea and her speech sped up. "In fact, we should all go. That lady at the front desk looked like she could use a breadstick. Possibly two."

The idea of spending several more hours with Jillian Holtzmann, when she wasn't distracted by complex equations and jury-rigged machinery, was a terrifying one. "And why would we do that?"

The physicist looked honestly perplexed. Her team ate lunch together all the time, she honestly couldn't picture it any other way. "Uh? Team building? Group bonding? Sharing unlimited soup and salads at Olive Garden? We could make it a lunch date. You're dating the jittery one out front with the little upturned nose, right?"

Ron sucked in a breath so quick it triggered a coughing fit. "WHAT?" he gasped out as he fought for air.

"He's cute, I mean, I assume." Jillian shrugged. "What, is workplace fun not allowed? No worries, your secret's safe with me. Unless you have something I want, then I'm going to blackmail you. Ha."

Ron stood up and pointed a finger at her. "Listen here you little b--"

"Anyway! This is for you." Jillian all but bounced forward, leaned across his desk, and dropped something onto Ron's outstretched index finger, still pointing in her direction. Ron froze and stared at it. Gingerly, he lifted it off his finger and turned it around.

It was a baseball cap. Dark blue in color, and on the front, embroidered in white, was the letter U with a nail going through it.

Ron looked at the hat, then raised his eyes to look at the pendant hanging from Jillian's neck, then lifted them up to her face. "What," he said succinctly, "the fuck?"

Jillian leaned against the front of Ron's desk with one hip, folding her arms across her chest. "Remember when you said we were friends and I declined?"

Following conversations with Jillian Holtzmann was like programming code. It gave him a headache. "No. I think I said we hit it off and you said 'eh.'"

"Right, look, Ronny, I've been thinking." She ignored his growl. "What I said before, about how I didn't really click with anyone until Abby and Erin and Patty and Kevin? I've been thinking that searching through an infinite number of dimensions for people who think like me was a bad idea. Not that it's not cool to meet alternate me's. Especially hot secret agent alternate me's." Ron's lip curled in disgust. "Anyway," she continued, "I think maybe instead of being so focused on finding people like me, I'm gonna work harder to be friends with people who are different. And we did make a pretty good team."

Ron snorted. "Dunno about that," he said, but he leaned over and placed the cap in the desk drawer that he'd been using to prop up his feet before she came in, and slid the drawer closed.

Then he straightened and leveled her with a look. "We're not going to the damn Olive Garden. I have standards. And I'm not paying for your lunch."

Jillian gave a hiss of triumph and launched herself toward the door, eager to start in on convincing the cute secretary to come to lunch with them. "Wouldn't dream of it, Ronny. I can't wait to inflict chaos on your economic structure by slipping some alternate dimension currency into the system. Mwa ha ha. You have President Downey Jr. on your twenty dollar bills, right? Kidding! Or am I?"

"Holtzmann," Ron said.

She stopped short of the door, leaned back on her heels and pivoted around to face him. "Hmm?"

"How did you know? About...?" He tilted his head toward the door, indicating the front of the building.

Jillian smirked. "Didn't. Guessed. Your freak out was telling. Also you have a little doodle of a ghost on the corner of your desk and you don't seem like the doodling type."

Ron looked down at his desk and cursed and Jillian slipped out into the hall to wrangle up the Chicago Ghostbusters for lunch.

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters idw #ghostbusters comics #idw comics #crossing over #ghostbusters shipping #bryan welsh #the rookie #jillian holtzmann #kylie griffin #ron alexander #ron x rookie #lesbian holtzmann headcanon #ghostbusters 30 day challenge

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elareine · 5 years ago

Text

Through the night (we’ll make it) (Robinpile)

It was fine, really. Just another day of trying so hard and not being enough, just like every day.

Ouch, that sounded bitter. Dick chided himself even as he dragged himself to the safehouse Jason had been using last. All he needed was a good night’s sleep, he thought, and then he would feel better.

The scene that greeted him was tranquil. Jason was reading, with Tim and Damian tapping away at their laptops, probably completing case- and homework, respectively.

“Hey,” Dick called out half-heartedly in greeting. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see them. He was. That’s why he had come here, after all.

He was just so, so tired.

Jason took one look at Dick, put away his book, and opened his arms. “C’mere, babe.”

Dick stepped into them gratefully, finding himself enveloped into so tightly a hug he could not help but relax into it. Jason, he knew, wouldn’t let him go.

When Dick began to shiver despite the heat Jason reliably gave off, a soft blanket was draped over him. There was some whispering that Dick didn’t bother to follow, and then Jason pressed a kiss to his hair. “Let’s get you into bed, hmm?”

Dick nodded, trying to extract himself from the embrace with some effort. Jason would have none of it, though, picking him up as if he weighed nothing, only setting him down when they had reached the bedroom.

Now there were other hands, too, undressing him gently; nothing sexual about it, just making sure he would be comfortable. All the while, Jason never once fully let go of him, and when they were done, he lifted Dick again, carrying him over to their bed.

As soon as they were settled, Dick heard Tim murmur something soft, then creep in behind him, slinging an arm around Dick’s waist and pressing a gentle kiss to his nape. Damian turned off the lights and joined them mere seconds later. He wound up mostly on top of Jason, too, his arms and legs flung over Dick’s.

“Good?” Jason asked, his voice low.

Dick smiled. “The best.”

Like this, life didn’t feel like such a heavy burden anymore.

—

Grief had a way of sneaking up on you. Tim was no stranger to it, yet it still managed to surprise him from time to time.

At least his day was busy. Kick some ass at night, grab an hour of sleep at so at Jason’s safehouse, drink too much coffee, head out, play at being a Drake-Wayne for most of the day, inhale some dinner and go out and kick ass again.

If only there were more ass to kick. For once, Tim would’ve welcomed a sleepless night, but noooo, Gotham’s criminals chose that exact day to be slackers. By midnight, even Batman had given up for the night.

There was nothing for it but head home. Tim was already trying to decide how he would occupy himself until morning. There was that one case file he’d been meaning to take a second look at. Star Trek Discovery was surely due a rewatch before the new season came out. Hell, Jason had been raving about that one book he’d read, maybe Tim would watch the movie adaptation.

But when he returned to his apartment, the lights were on and the security system turned off. Inwardly, Tim groaned. Great. Dick would want to talk about it, and Tim really, really didn’t.

Talking had never brought anyone back from the dead. Their little group should know that better than anyone.

Still, he put on a smile as he entered. Dick and Damian were lounging on the couch and greeted him with some surprisingly cheery waves.

“Yo, Tim,” Jason called from the kitchen. What he was doing there was a mystery to Tim. The last time he’d been grocery shopping had been… weeks ago. Ooops. “The brat has something for you.”

Tim looked down. Damian was basically shoving a controller into his hands. “I found a way to get the Nintendo 64 working again,” he announced, looking so proud of himself. “You’re always saying it’s the best.”

“It is,” Tim said, perking up. “Wait, did you get—”

“Mario Cart?” Dick pulled out the grey precursor to a disk out of… somewhere—Tim wasn’t really sure, and one never knew with that man—and threw it over to Damian, who caught it with a grin.

“Race you?”

Tim knew—he just knew—that the minute he would sit down on that couch, Dick would pull him into his lap, closely followed by Damian, because the brat could never not be part of anything. Jason would probably keep his distance and just throw popcorn at them or something. It would be noisy and loud and competitive as fuck.

It sounded perfect. “Loser has to be first to try whatever Jason’s cooking up.”

“Hey!”

—

Damian’s vision was swirling.

This wasn’t good, he acknowledged. He should possibly have waited for backup. But then those criminals would have kept that child in their clutches for an hour longer, and to Damian, that was unacceptable.

So he had essentially made peace with the fact that he was currently lying on the floor of a dirty warehouse with what was likely a concussion and a shoulder that was throbbing rather suspiciously.

Behind him, there was the distinct sound of the door being kicked open. Damian wished he had the strength left to see if it was his reinforcements or the rest of the gang, coming to finish him.

“Fuck.” That would be Jason, then.

Seconds later, Dick’s face, worried even behind the domino, hovered over Damian’s. “Robin? Are you okay?”

What a stupid question. Damian would tell him so. Any minute now.

Dick pulled off his Nightwing gloves, then began checking Damian over for any injuries beyond the obvious. There were some scuffling noises and a few low curses, then Jason joined them, taking off his helmet to reveal the domino beneath.

Damian appreciated the gesture. He knew Jason would not do that unless the situation was absolutely under control.

“A concussion and some nice bruises,” Jason finally concluded. “But man, nothing compared to what you gave those guys, babybat. Pretty sure they’ll be collecting their teeth for weeks to come.”

Damian tried to focus. “Are they—”

“You did good,” Dick told him, smiling. “The kid’s fine. Red Robin is delivering him and those thugs to the police as we speak.”

“He says not to hurt me too much,” Jason added.

Damian frowned. “No, he didn’t. And why would I—ouch!” Betrayed into the noise by surprise, he just about kicked Jason into the stomach on reflex.

“Sorry,” Dick told him apologetically even as Jason coughed behind him in pain. “That shoulder had to be set.”

Damian grumbled, but let it go. At least Jason was already suffering the consequences of his rash actions.

With a soft thud, Tim landed beside them. “Cargo delivered,” he reported. “How are you feeling, Dami?”

“Hard to focus,” Damian admitted. The days of having to posture in front of the others were long past. “Otherwise, I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you home and checked out, babybird,” Dick suggested, lifting Dami up onto his back as if he was still twelve.

“He can walk himself home,” Jason griped behind them. “Look what he did to my stomach.”

Damian was sure Tim was rolling his eyes behind the cowl. “Ah, yes, your poor stomach. How will those abs ever recover.”

“Ha, I knew you liked them!”

Damian could feel Dick chuckle underneath him, and despite nausea starting to make itself known deep in his stomach, he couldn’t help but laugh, too.

___

For once, Jason didn’t wake up screaming.

It was worse than that.

He had to claw his way out of that dream, back to a reality that he still wasn’t sure was his most days. It was a fight, more bloody than any battlefield he had ever stood on, and Jason never knew when he might lose it again.

Distantly, he was glad his lovers had learned not to touch him when he was like this. Once, Dick had made the mistake of trying to hold Jason down the way he himself liked to be, and Jason had just about choked him out. That hadn’t improved the situation for anyone.

Slowly, slowly, Jason took stock of his surroundings. He was on his side, curled up as if to protect himself from blows. The lights were on. The room was quiet, but he was not alone.

Tim had turned his laptop on the nightstand so Jason could see it every time he opened his eyes, displaying the surveillance footage of the cameras around this house in real-time. Jason could feel him sitting right behind him, a silent presence guarding his back.

Only now did Jason allow himself to notice that he was shivering. He was freezing, and the blanket on top of him did nothing to help.

Damian, he knew, would be just as cold. It was no comfort, just a fact. It was good that he was sitting with Dick, back to back, one of them guarding the door, the other the only window. Jason could see a glint of steel next to them. They were armed.

“I have some heating pads,” Tim told him softly. “Okay if I hand them to you?”

Jason had to actually consider that. Some nights, he preferred the cold to the heat of—the heat. “Yes.”

“Here’s one.” Tim gingerly reached over to Jason’s front, taking care not to touch him. “And here’s the other.”

Jason shoved one of them down to his stomach, to alleviate the cramps this tension would inevitably cause. The other, though, he kept clutched into his hand, holding on for life.

Tim settled in behind him again. No one spoke.

With his lovers protecting him, twin points of heat slowly warming the ice in his chest, Jason thought he might just make it through the night.

#robinpile #elareine writes #advent calendar 2019

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planetsxend · 5 years ago

Text

“Moist”

@sweettifalockhart issued the writing challenge: moist. I posted a snippet so I’d stay on track, and hell did I stay on track. Probably OOC in places, but that hasn’t stopped me writing before :P Reno/Tifa below the cut, set very loosely in the tie between OG/Remake & AC

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

“- and then she threw me out the bar! Literally threw me. How is that even possible?”

“... It’s Tifa,” Rude says, as if that explains everything from gravity’s pull to the magic show of pigs suddenly sprouting wings and taking to the sky (although that wouldn’t be magic so much as fucking freaky who has the alien head this time?). “Would’ve paid for a video,” his partner’s quiet addition, the bare bones of a smirk flirting with his mouth and Reno well - he can’t let that one go unchallenged. The bastard doesn’t even startle when the elastic band pings off his shades. Hmmph.

He grumbles some more, under his breath, and he’s well-versed in the feeling of eyes on him, knows Rude’s picked up on the fact he’s legitimately out of sorts with this recent development. Knows that behind those shades, Rude’s staring at him, measuring the weight of each word on his tongue before lending voice to it.

“Either start talking or start writing. This paperwork isn’t going to finish itself.”

“There’re memories in that bar,” Reno replies, the last he’ll say on the matter simply because it covers the entirety of his discomfiture.

~ ~ ~

7 months, 3 days after The Plate

It’s the first he’s properly laid eyes on her since... since The Plate and he slinks in like a cat on the scavenge, well aware there’s a dispute in his very near future the further in he goes, vividly aware he’s out of his depth. He’s still got a sharp smart in his ribs to prove just how hard she punches on a bad day. But here, now, on her turf? Where every territorial instinct she has will be on red alert the second she clocks him? Where every protective instinct will kick into high gear the second she recognises a threat? He’s gonna wind up with his face smashed in and a couple teeth knocked loose and he’ll probably roll over and thank her for it after.

Better than the guilt gnawing him open from the inside out, right?

Sure enough, he’s not even singled out the quietest corner when she spots him, and because he keeps bouncing between where to sit and where’s the danger, he sees it. The smile for her patrons vanishes so fast he might as well have smacked it off her, face settling into an expression carved from stone. Empty. Blank. Carefully so, but she can’t do shit about her eyes. They burn, even as her spine snaps straight and her chin lifts just so.

A challenge he doesn’t meet. A challenge he can’t back down from, either. His own issued when he approaches her directly, well and truly in the lion’s den.

“What do you want?” She spits, and if words were acid he’d be stripped to the bone in seconds. A lesser man would flinch, and a smarter man would leave, but neither man is him and so he slaps on a smirk and replies cool as Shiva’s kiss - he’d like a drink, if you please. He sure as shit doesn’t imagine the creak of leather around her fists, but she’s a gracious host, and everyone’s welcome in Seventh Heaven, she can’t go around denying customers willy nilly without consequences.

He’s actually surprised when he survives that first drink, never mind the entire goddamn night.

7 months, 2 weeks, 5 days after The Plate

It’s almost a game between them a few weeks later, this animosity. Every night he intrudes on her space and every night she’ll hiss at him like she’s ready to claw his face off. Sometimes he’ll get blackout drunk and someone has the decency to phone Rude to cart his ass back home, sometimes he doesn’t and he’ll nurse one drink the entire night, every second under the same roof as her an agony. When will she do it, he wonders. When will she snap? When will that practised calm give out in favour of confronting him? Just what the fuck is it gonna take?

He’s not drunk tonight, just on the wrong side of tipsy, weaving one way on his stool then jerking centre and weaving the other. Loose-lipped, too, if anyone thought to talk to him, but the suit keeps most folk at a respectable distance. She comes at him when most of the regulars clear out and over the blast of the jukebox he thinks fuckin’ finally.

‘Cept she slams a glass of water down in front of him, sloshes some of it over his hand for good measure. And while he swears and trips over his own tongue and waves his hand around and wipes it down with the stupid fuckin’ square Tseng always insists on cramming into his breast pocket, she parks her ass down opposite him, and jams both elbows down on the table. There’s no warning creak this time, because her hands are bare of their usual gloves, and the fire in her eyes isn’t quite so bright tonight.

The hell?

“Why do you keep coming here, Reno?” She asks, and if anything should catch him off guard maybe it should be that she remembers his name. Instead, it’s her tone, the tired quality to it curling ‘round the words and robbing them of the caustic bite she usually keeps in reserve all for him. Like she’s as weary to the bone as he is. Like she’s beaten down and wrung out and barely hanging on by the tips of her fingers.

Like maybe - just maybe - she’s in the same boat as him.

You got snarlin’ little beasties crawling around in your head, too?

But he doesn’t ask that, it’s early days yet, right? She’s more liable to smash the glass on his head and jab him in the eye with one of the resulting pointy bits, right? So he looks at her instead, fighter-turned-bartender, damaged soul under all that easy charm, and lets his own trademark smirk fall just a little. Just enough to clue her in on his little secret - I know the taste of regret, and it sure is bitter.

“To drink. To forget.”

~ ~ ~

It doesn’t make things right between them, not by a long shot. But the water’s her white flag, and his truth an apology. It’s a step in some direction, maybe not the right one.

9 months, 1 week after The Plate

She asks him about it eventually, just like he knew she would. She’s a blunt woman, Tifa, when it comes down to the nitty gritty details. Her patience has its limits and beating around the bush as they are, tolerating one another as they are... something has to give somewhere. So she asks him. About it. About The Plate.

Such a simple question, really. Do you regret it?

Does he have an answer for it? Oh sure, he has an answer alright. Yes. Yes he regrets it, every damn time he thinks about it his stomach curdles and his skin goes clammy. So many questions circling his head ‘til he’s dizzy: was it necessary? Was it worth it? How many died? How many people suffered - trapped under crushing weight, their last moments ones of terror and darkness and indescribable pain? How many begged for help on their last breath? How many stretched out broken hands in the hope someone beyond the rubble would grab on and help them free? How many people ripped apart? How many families struck from the census records in one fell swoop? What were their names? Their ages? How many kids died that night?

“Yeah,” he says instead, voice wavering under all that strain locked up inside his skull, queasy and not from the food he’d ordered (still not poisoned, she’s out of her goddamn mind). He doesn’t know what he looks like in that moment - can’t stand to look in mirrors much these days except to scrape the scruff off his chops in the morning - but she does. Tifa looks at him then and sees whatever he can’t smother, standard Turk mask of indifference be damned, and a switch flips between them. Animosity to understanding.

There should be surprise when she closes the bar early, promising discounts for the inconvenience, when she sets a bottle of hard liquor by his plate... and two glasses. Instead he musters up the ghost of a smile and leans back - almost makes an ass of himself toppling right over, but hey, the reflexes have saved him from worse (like Strife’s sword) - daring to drag his eyes from her face to her waist and back up again. “Come to confess to the big bad wolf, doll?”

“Eat a dick, Turk,” she snaps back and twists the cap open, sealing their fate.

~ ~ ~

“We, I, killed people, too... when we... blew up the Reactors. Maybe not... maybe not every life lost was immediate but... the riots, the robberies, the people dying at home because their heating went out and never came back on again. I don’t know how many deaths can be traced back to my hands.”

“That’s not the same as-”

“Does the how really matter, Reno? People died. By our actions. By our choices. That is the burden we bear.”

~ ~ ~

He comes awake the following morning to the unforgiving thump of a combat boot in the ribs, and bright sunlight stabbing a thousand daggers into his eyeballs, and a behemoth using his head as a chew toy. It’s Strife above him, hands on the table he’s shoved aside to get to him, baby blues gone dark and thunderous and hell if that ain’t a safe wake-up call. From his left somewhere a pitiful moan as Tifa rouses, and Murder Face turns his attention elsewhere, moves in her direction, giving Reno just enough space to try and get his legs under him. Where are his legs again? His - where the fuck’s his shoe?

“What did you do this time?” Rude asks the second the call connects as he trips his way out the bar, and all Reno can manage without upsetting his entire lack of balance is a raspy laugh and cradling his head in his free hand.

“Made a mess, prob’ly.”

11 months, 1 week, 4 days after The Plate

“Are you asking me out?” Really, she doesn’t need to look so suspicious. What’s he gonna do, chuck her in a chopper and fly her across the continent? Avalanche’d kill him deader than dead in two seconds flat. Still, she’s not exactly wrong, which. Yeah, okay, this isn’t one of his better ideas by far but. Hm.

“No? Figured it’d be a better bonding experience if we had a chat while stone cold sober, is all. You like coffee?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Tseng.”

Call him crazy, but her laugh sounds less hollow than he’s ever heard it.

~ ~ ~

Marlene nails him in the back of the hand with a fork and Denzel gets melon juice all down his shirt. Accidental his ass.

At least Strife is upfront with his threats of bodily harm if he breaks Tifa’s heart.

1 year, 2 months, 3 weeks after The Plate

The next time they wind up under what he’s dubbed their table, alcohol has absolutely nothing to do with it... Well. Except for the sticky residue he can taste on her fingers.

He has enough common sense to make sure they drag their asses upstairs and to her bedroom before dawn. Enhanced senses must suck balls, though, because when Strife drops by the following afternoon he doesn’t even bat an eye at Reno’s perch at the bar (munching away at the remnants of a fruit salad the brats didn’t take to school), but he does when he gets closer and breathes. His nose scrunches up as he sniffs in Reno’s direction like a dog - or that snarling wolf emblem he’s so fond of slapping on anything he can get his hands on - and darts those baby blues between his shit-eating grin and Tifa raised brow. Try me, that look says, complete with the casual gathering of her hair into a high ponytail, the flex of her fingers after it. Do they smell of each other, then? How cute.

“... I don’t even wanna know,” Strife eventually says, and Reno laughs.

1 year, 4 months, 2 weeks, 3 days after The Plate

The punch she lands smack on his left pectoral is a love tap compared to what she’s capable of, and instead of the fire he’s half-expecting there’s... mischief in her gaze.

“Tifa -”

“Never say that word in my bar again, Reno, or I’ll ban you permanently.”

“Yes Ma’am, lesson learned.”

“I might even ban Rufus, too. Make sure the lesson really sticks.”

“Aw naw, c’mon! That’s hitting below the belt!”

“Please. We both know you’d be sobbing on the floor if I did that.”

He pouts (she does have a point). Tifa laughs. It’s fast becoming his most favourite sound in the world.

#sweettifalockhart #stories for your ears only writing #can this even be called a drabble? What word count qualifies as that iahufhesuhffhrhg

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violetsmoak · 5 years ago

Text

Appetence [9/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #cemetery #haunting

First Chapter

Author’s Note: More dialogue from Under the Red Hood, just moved around a bit and tweaked to suit the situation.

________________________________________________________________

Bruce stares at him in silence for a long while and then seems to shake himself.

“No,” he says at last. “It…can't be.”

But his tone is less certain.

“Can be and is. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth’ and all that jazz,” Jason quips. “But I know you. I can’t just talk about collecting first editions with Alfred or going to races with you or Dick teaching me to train surf. Someone could be using telepathy to lift that from your mind, right? Nah, you’ll be wantin’ proof, so here—”

“Here.” Jason crouches and takes off his gloves, picking up the discarded Batarang from earlier and whips it expertly at Bruce, who catches it without anything changing in the exposed part of his face. “My blood’s already on that. Fingerprints, too. Maybe even some skin-cells if you cut me deep enough.”

“It won’t make me believe.”

But there’s doubt in his voice, and he pockets the blade anyhow.

“Yeah, it will,” Jason replies. “You’re Mr. Logic and Science. It’ll tell you exactly who I am—or rather, it’ll confirm exactly who you know I am.”

Bruce’s jaw works furiously.

“How…how did this happen to you?” he asks softly, cautious. “Were you—was there a Lazarus Pit involved?”

“Not as far as I know. If there was, don’t you think your baby mama would have taunted you with it by now? She always liked to fuck with your head.”

Bruce tenses.

“Oh, yeah, I got the full 411 on what’s been happening since I 'ran down the curtain and joined the bleedin’ choir invisible',” Jason says irreverently. “Mazel tov, but the way. Is it too late to send an arrangement of blue balloons?”

No response.

“What’s that bring the total up to now, anyway? Three? Four? When exactly did collecting orphans become a compulsion for you, chum?”

Jason sneers that last word, and yet something about it seems to physically jar both man and Bat. The cowl is off then as if somehow, Bruce can no longer trust the lenses of the cowl and needs his own eyes.

Jason’s irritation wavers for a moment, replaced with a lump in his throat as his own gaze roves over the man’s face with a hunger of their own, tempered by disbelief.

Bruce looks older. He could still pass for at least a decade younger than his actual age, but the look in his eyes speaks of a lifetime of fighting. There are wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, grey flecks around his temples and a few more scars than Jason remembers. Skin stretches just a little bit thinner over his cheekbones and jaw.

His eyes are sharp as ever, cataloging every detail of Jason, no doubt comparing it to his last memories of the boy he was.

The boy that’s dead.

Bruce tentatively moves forward, and Jason’s instinct is to take a step backward, to avoid letting the other man into his personal space. He has no interest in Round Two or the prick of a needle leading to him waking up in a cell in the cave hours from now.

But then his eye catches on two figures watching the proceedings from several feet away, and he’s so surprised he forgets about Bruce for a minute.

Martha Wayne is polished and put-together, the only indication of anything amiss being the broken string of pearls hanging from her neck and the blossoming red stain at her breast. Thomas Wayne looks exactly like every picture Jason’s ever seen of him, Bruce’s spitting image but somehow…lighter. The wound that killed him is hidden beneath a thick overcoat, but trails of blood dripping down to stain his white gloves is telling.

For a moment they are a perfect portrait, and then in another blink, they flicker, clutching at their wounds. In another, they lie on the ground gasping and reaching for each other, trapped in their death echo. And then they’re back to standing, watching Bruce with pained expressions on their faces.

Guess the family plot’s a bit closer than I thought it was.

Any further ruminations on their semi-invisible audience vanish when arms encircle Jason, and it should be a reflex to pull away, to knock the grasp away. Self-preservation and all.

And yet, he knows these arms, knows the smell of cologne and the specific brand of Kevlar in a way that bypasses every bit of training he’s ever had, which causes him to remain perfectly still as Batman—Bruce, Dad—holds him tightly to him.

For whatever reason—an impossibly rare break from his usual paranoia, perhaps—Bruce doesn’t dose him with any kind of sedative or go for a nerve-strike.

He just…

Holds him.

Jason’s back is beginning to ache from how straight he’s trying to keep it, and at last, he can’t take it anymore and pulls back. Puts several steps between them so that he can regain his equilibrium.

Bruce takes a step back as well as if remembering himself. He lapses back into his tense but alert stance, but his eyes are suspiciously bright in the moonlight.

“When?” he asks eventually.

“By all accounts about six months after I died.” Bruce’s expression becomes calculating, even as he continues to study Jason. “Wouldn’t happen to have any idea how that could’ve happened, could you? John and I never figured it out, and you have all those fun League resources.”

Bruce recoils almost imperceptibly.

“John?” he repeats, eyes flicking over Jason again. His nose twitches and then his brows draw together. “Constantine.”

It should not surprise Jason that Bruce makes the connection so fast.

“Got it in one.”

“He would have said. He’d have contacted me—”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Jason interrupts. “Because he didn’t know. Not until weeks after he found me. And by the time I remembered everything, I didn’t want him to. Say what you want about his morals, he stays out of other people’s personal business.”

Bruce ignores the dig.

“Why?” Bruce croaks instead. “Why didn’t you come home?”

“Didn’t think there was anything for me to come back to. Figured you’d be happier with me gone. I mean, you hauled a new kid into the thick of it within like three months, so obviously I wasn’t that hard to replace.”

“It didn’t happen that way.”

“I owe you a broken jaw for that, by the way. After I died, no one else should’ve worn that cape.”

“And now?” Bruce challenges. “All this time, you’ve been alive. You’ve avoided Gotham. But you choose to return now. And do things like this.” He gestures at the graveyard. “This crime—violating others’ final resting places—human remains, for god’s sake, Jason! If you wanted to get my attention, there are easier ways!”

Jason’s jaw drops a bit, and he feels his hackles rise.

And there it is.

“Are you serious right now?” he snaps. “You think this is about you?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as if to say it’s exactly what he thinks, and Jason bursts out laughing. There’s a bitter edge to it, and the older man flinches for some reason.

“Damn, I knew you were conceited, but this just takes the cake,” Jason snorts. “Contrary to popular belief, not everything that goes on in Gotham is about Bruce Wayne. Or Batman.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“Bullshit! This is my fucking job,” Jason snaps.

“Desecrating graves.”

“Helping people move on. Stopping people from getting hurt. Put that thinking cap of yours on, ‘detective’. Why the hell do you think Constantine took me in in the first place?”

The way his eyes narrow at the challenge, considering their surroundings and the gear Jason is wearing, the tools and the specifics of what he was doing and what he’s just said. And then understanding flashes across his face.

“You’re an occultist.

“Ding-ding-ding! Right again. Guess dying and coming back from the dead leaves a guy predisposed to certain, huh? Unless I’ve always been this way and just never knew. I doubt it, though. You’ve analyzed my blood a hundred times and you never mentioned any metahuman or magic genes. And I never saw dead people before I was, you know, dead.”

That causes a wince.

“You know I was in Arkham, for a while?” Jason asks conversationally. “For like half a year. Bet you visited the place a lot, considering the revolving door of nutcases. You were probably standing on the same floor as me a dozen times and didn’t even know it.”

Bruce tries to disguise the pain that flashes across his face at that direct hit, but Jason sees it nonetheless.

“The mentally ill are of no interest to Batman, though, right? Not unless they’re criminally insane.”

“I know…I know I failed you, Jason…I tried to save you. Whatever it is that’s happening to you now—I’ll keep trying to save you, and if I had had even an inkling that you were still alive—”

“Is that what you think I’m pissed off about?” Jason demands. “You letting me die? I don’t know what clouds your judgment worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. I forgave you for not saving me, Bruce—forgave you years before I forgave my own flesh and blood. But why…why…” His voice breaks a little here, “the hell is that pasty-faced pile of human excrement still alive?”

Bruce’s expression becomes like stone. “Joker.”

“The Joker. Yeah, B, him. If you’d just killed the fucker years ago—whether anything happened to me or not—you know what hell you would have saved the world?” Jason snaps. “But no. Punching that piece of shit’s ticket’s just one of a long list of sane acts you still refuse to commit.”

“I can’t cross that line,” Bruce says tightly.

“But I can,” Jason says. “And I will. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last five years, death comes to those who deserve death, B. It’s probably why I clocked out early. I wasn’t exactly the golden boy like Dickiebird, was I?”

“Jason, no—”

“But that’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. Someone somewhere must have even decided I deserved a chance to make up for it because here I am.” Jason spreads his arms wide. “And I’m going to make up for it. Lot of dead people out there that need to be avenged. And a lot of monsters out there, standing in the way.”

“Monsters like Felipe Garzonas?” Bruce challenges.

The name hastens memories of a woman’s lifeless body hanging from a ceiling and a man’s sneering, triumphant smile.

Jason clenches his fists.

“If they get in my way, sure,” he replies. “In another life, maybe I’d even make it my mission. To take out the scum you refuse to. But these days, I’m on a different playing field, and the stakes a higher than some rapist that fell out a window.”

“If you’re saying you intend to go after the Joker—I can’t let you.”

Jason almost chokes in rage and disbelief. “Why the hell not?!”

“Because I won’t have my son become a murderer for him.”

“Didn’t you hear, old man? Your son died a long time ago. I’m a completely different person now, and you’re a few years too late. I’ve killed a lot of people and slept like a baby right after because those fuckers deserved it.” Jason clenches his fists, recalling the torn and mutilated bodies murderers that would never be caught by traditional means—legal or vigilante. Capping monsters like that was a civic duty. “Lot of people don’t get any kind of justice once they’re gone, and I’m it.”

“Jason, that’s not your call to make.”

“Says the man who dresses up as a bat and fights crime,” Jason shoots back. “All of your adult life, you’ve fought to save Gotham. Save her from herself, but you never ever understood her. You’ve never seen what I see now.” He casts his eyes around the graveyard, at the torn remnants of humanity in their various stages of self-torture. “She’s evil. Poisoned by the dead that clog her foundations—that have been piling up here since the first nutjob spilled blood in her earth. You have to fight her where she lives, B, and it’s not just the rooftops at night.”

“That might be so,” Bruce allows. “But it’s one thing to seek justice on behalf of the dead…if that’s what you intend to do. But going after a human being, even one as depraved as the Joker—"

“How can you still call him a human being?! Even ignoring what he’s done in the past—blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he’s filled—” He points toward the various specters in the distance, who Bruce can’t see but who scream and cry and laugh hysterically through the smiling rictus that is the Joker’s signature, to the dying echoes of Thomas and Martha Wayne, “—the thousands who have suffered, the friends he’s crippled—” He remembers Tim’s expression and makes an educated guess, “—the family he’s tortured.”

Bruce’s wince is the confirmation he needs.

“I thought that him killing me, that I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt,” Jason admits in a soft voice, his rage quieting behind pain and sadness. “If it had been you he beat to a bloody mess...if it had been you that he left in agony...if he had taken you—I would have done nothing but search the planet for the pathetic pile of evil, death-worshipping garbage and sent him off to hell!"

“You don’t understand…I don’t think you’ve ever understood…”

“What? Your moral code just won’t allow for it? It’s too hard to cross that line?”

“It’d be too damned easy!” Bruce snaps.

There would be a ringing silence between them if not for the ghostly moans in the night.

“All I have ever wanted to do is kill him,” Bruce continues, eyes blazing. “For years, a day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t imagined taking him and spending an entire month putting him through the most horrendous, mind-boggling forms of torture. All of it building to an end with him broken, butchered and maimed…pleading—screaming—in the worse kind of agony as he careens into a monstrous death.” He grows quieter here. “I want him dead—maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down into that place, I’ll never come back.”

Jason takes several seconds to parse all of that, examining the reasons and justifications that are so different than what he expected, before registering the problem with that.

“Why?”

Bruce blinks. “What?”

“You wouldn’t feel guilty killing a cockroach, or wiping out a bacterium that could destroy millions,” Jason points out. “And that’s what he is. All he exists to do is destroy. It’s not like Cobblepot or Crane or Dent or Nygma. Much as I always thought they all deserve the death penalty, there’s something in them that at least resembles having been human at some point. The Joker has never—will never—be human. You can’t judge filth like that by human standards.”

But he can already see by the obstinate set of Bruce’s jaw that he is unmoved by this argument.

“I can’t, Jason,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Then don’t. Just don’t get in the way when someone else tries to do it.”

“Someone being you? I can’t let that happen either. I won’t let you sully yourself over the likes of him—”

“He killed me!” Jason roars. “I was sullied the second he brought out the crowbar. If anyone on this planet has a right—has a duty—to be the chlorine in that maniac’s gene pool, it’s me!”

“Jason—!”

“He took me away from you!”

The words echo, not as sharp or reprimanding as Jason meant, but laced with a vulnerability he hasn’t allowed himself to show since before he died.

He needs to take a few moments to breathe, to gulp down the sob that’s threatening the back of his throat, hysterical and pained and scared the way he hasn’t been in years.

“He took everything,” Jason concludes. “He took my life. He took my future. But worst of all, he took me from the first person I ever really believed gave a shit about me. And that…that’s just me. How many other kids got to die gasping for breath, waiting for their fathers to rescue them?”

And for a split second, Bruce’s entire façade shatters and he looks—lost. Frightened. Agonized.

“Jason…” he says after a beat, more broken than Batman has any right to sound. “Just…come home. We’ll figure this out—all of it. Together.”

And Jason…he’s tempted.

But he came back to Gotham for a reason, and it wasn’t to mend relations with anyone.

“And when the Joker breaks out again?” Jason asks quietly. “When he hunts you and everyone you care about down and puts you through another round of mental and physical torture? When you have to bury another kid? Or two? Or Alfred? Will 'figure this out together' mean you’ll step aside and do what needs to be done? Or are you just going to cart him back to Arkham?”

There is nothing but silence at this, but Jason already has his answer.

He exhales, shoulders slumping a bit.

As tempting as it would be to fall back into what he lost—as tempting as it would be to be Jason Todd-Wayne again in some way—this is something he can’t compromise on.

And he learned from the best that the only way to keep from compromising is to establish clear, immovable boundaries. And if that’s impossible, then burn down whatever bridges might traverse them.

“The manor was never my home, any more than it was yours,” Jason says dully at last. “Those streets you patrol every night, the people on them—people the Joker’s going to keep killing—that’s home. And if you’re not going to defend it, I am.”

Bruce appears to hear what he isn’t saying, and that seems to take the fight out of him. As if he understands that no amount of arguing is going to change either of their stances today, if ever. Instead, he straightens his back and looms into his most imposing Batman stance and pulls the cowl back on.

“I won’t tolerate criminal conspiracy in Gotham. Occult or otherwise.”

“Tough shit,” Jason shoots back. “This is my town. Probably more than it’s yours since I actually came up on these streets.”

“If that’s how you want it to be, that’s your choice. But if you cause any disturbances of that nature—if I catch you desecrating any more graves—if you go anywhere near the Joker—I will bring you in.”

“That threat would be more effective if I couldn’t rattle off the names of every cape in town, and you know it.”

“I never said you’d be going to jail.”

And Jason knows that this will lead to another fight, one he’ll no doubt lose—

Except there’s an explosion in the distance.

They both look up reflexively, watching Gotham’s skyline illuminate with electric blue light.

“Looks like the office is calling,” Jason points out. “My money’s on Freeze. He never did like the summertime.”

Bruce’s jaw clenches, eyes flitting from Jason to the city.

“Can’t let the bad guys get away, old man. Mission before family, right? The way it’s always been?” He turns, keeping Bruce in his periphery. “I’m going home. I’d give you the address, but I’m pretty sure you’ll find it on your own anyway. Wouldn’t want to give you the impression that you’re welcome there.”

“Jason…”

“Maybe we can do this again sometime like normal human beings,” he continues. “But I swear to everything hellish and holy, if you drag me back to the cave for interrogation or lock me up, I will get out. And I will make the rest of your life a living hell. Until then, fuck off. You don’t get to talk to me unless you decide to do something about the clown.”

He turns away, casting a frown at Thomas and Martha Wayne’s shades, wondering if he should say anything to Bruce about them just now.

He decides against it.

It’s a whole other rabbit hole to get pulled down.

Instead, he tips a salute as he walks away. “Say hello to the pretty bird for me. Kid keeps his word. Didn’t think that was possible for anyone in the Family.”

⁂⁂⁂

To Be Continued

________________________________________________________________

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useless-fanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Greenie: Sick Day(s)

And here you all thought I was dead. Nope! I just casually wrote 2 pieces both about 20k words because fuck it.

Pairing: Gavin/Reader/RK900 (platonic)

Word count: 19.6k

Summary: Greenie falls in a lake

~~~

December xx, 2042

You stood between Gavin and Nines a look of fear and pity in your eyes, but your brows were also furrowed in thought; then you whispered, “I’m the only one who can save her.”

Gavin and Nines looked out at the cracked ice that covered the lake before the three of you. It had frozen over two weeks ago and had been deemed safe for skating, but now there were deep, threatening cracks running through the ice and a little girl trapped in the middle. Officers surrounded the lake, keeping people off of the ice and radioing back and forth with ideas of how to get the girl to safety. You hadn’t been the first one to realize you were the smallest officer around. Nines was. He had tried to step in front of you, hide you from the view of other officers so they couldn’t get any ideas, but you had refused to let the android block your view. You needed to be able to examine everything to come up with a plan of action.

“The first responders will be here in ten minutes,” Gavin commanded, “Wait for them.”

“She doesn’t have ten minutes,” You breathed out.

“Absolutely not, Officer,” Nines growled, “There is a 68% chance that ice cracks under your weight, and if you fall in the water there’s and 82% chance of death. I won’t allow it.”

You looked at Nines, “Then don’t let me die.”

Quickly, you shed your jacket, and then the top of your uniform so you were just in your cami, shoving the clothing into Nines’ chest. You continued to pull off your pants so you were just in the black, fleece lined tights you wore to help keep you warm, then shoved those at Gavin. They understood that if you fell it was better not to have your heavy uniform, it would only make it harder to surface. The other officers watched in curiosity as you took your first tentative step onto the ice.

“Stay where you are. Let me come to you, alright?” You called out to the little girl, mustering the best smile you could for her.

The little girl nodded silently, hugging herself. You tested each of your steps before you dared put your weight on them, listening to where the ice was sturdy and where it was cracking further. The pedestrians and officers watching were dead silent, allowing you to focus. The process was agonizingly slow. Slowly, you slid your way across the ice and to the center of the lake where you were able to take the girl by the hand.

“Hi sweetheart. I’m going to get you off this lake and back to your mom, yeah? She’s real worried about you,” You nodded down at her with a comforting smile, “We’re going to go nice and slow to make sure nothing bad happens, okay?”

“Okay,” The girl whimpered quietly.

“I’m Officer (F/N),” You told her as you started to test your first step back to the bank.

The little girl shivered beside you, “I’m Isabelle.”

You cooed, “That’s a pretty name,” You were trying to keep her calm as you walked across the ice slowly, “When we get off this lake, I’ll make sure you get a nice cup of hot chocolate and if you want you can ride in one of the cop cars. How does that sound?”

Isabelle nodded enthusiastically as you pulled her with you, “That sounds really nice.”

You smiled, “Good. Good,” You huffed out as you took your next step. The ice directly below you groaned and a loud crack filled the empty air as the ice snapped apart. You froze and Isabelle suddenly clung to your leg. The ice behind you crackled threateningly, finally giving under your weight and the scores of lines from ice skates. The ice before you was clear, but behind you it was quickly splintering apart. You knelt down, “Alright Isabelle. I need you to be brave. See that big, tall android over there?” You tilted your head in Nines’ direction, “That’s one of my partners, his name is Nines. He looks scary but don’t be fooled, he’s a real big softy. I’m gonna slide you over there and he’s gonna take care of you, okay?” The little girl nodded and as soon as she did you gave her a shove in his direction, hard enough to send her to the edge of the lake and stumbling over the bank.

Nines scooped her up as you stood, “Officer!”

“(Y/N)!” Gavin shouted, looking as if he might run out onto the ice as well.

You nodded as you braced yourself, “If something happens,” You started shakily, “Tell my mom I love her, tell Eli he’s a dick, and know that both of you are the greatest things to ever happen in my life,” You told Gavin, “I can’t take another step. The ice is going to shatter.”

“It’s going to shatter beneath you if you wait. The closer the better, kid,” Gavin tried to reassure you as he shrugged off his jacket, “When you go down I’m coming in after you.”

“Gavin don’t. It’s not safe.”

“Well neither was going out onto the lake,” He countered, tearing off his work boots, “The closer you can get to me kid, the better.”

You nodded and took one step. The ice shattered beneath you, plunging you into icy cold water. You were still so far from the shore of the lake, a good fifty feet out. The shock from how fast it happened knocked the air out of your lungs, and on reflex you breathed in, taking in water. Icy water froze your muscles, making it harder for you to fight back to the surface, and when you did you found yourself trapped under a piece of ice. Quickly you were losing your battle. Black started to creep into your vision as everything became fuzzy and you were vaguely aware of something falling into the water. You panicked, trying to push the ice out of the way or find a way up only exhausting you further.

Something grabbed at your arm, but you lost consciousness.

___

Soft, yet irritating, beeping was the first thing you heard that started to pull you out of the darkness. Your mind felt foggy as you tossed your head back and forth slowly, trying to open your eyes. A hand rested against your cheek, stilling the movement and gently stroking. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to be greeted by Gavin smiling down at you.

“There she is,” He breathed out happily, “Welcome back, kid.” He leaned back.

“I lived?” You asked, half sarcastically; obviously you knew the answer but you were still shocked.

Gavin chuckled, “Yeah kid, you lived,” He smirked, “I told you I’d jump in after you. Pulled you out as quick as I could and both of us were whisked away by an ambulance moments later.”

You squinted at him suspiciously, “Then how comes I’m still hooked up and you’re not?”

He snorted, “Kid, you’ve been out for a whole day now. I just needed to be dried off and kept warm. You, on the other hand, sank like the goddamn Titanic and had water in your lungs. Weren’t breathing when I pulled you out,” He looked down a bit somber when he said that last part, “You gave us a pretty good scare.”

You nodded slowly, relaxing back into your bed before a coughing fit tore through you, “Fucking Titanic,” You grumbled.

Gavin stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’m gonna go tell the nurses you’re awake. Don’t move or do anything dumb.”

As you watched your partner leave you sighed sarcastically, “Oh no, I’m going to purposefully tear my IV out and jump through the window after nearly drowning. My life is a wreck.”

You could hear Gavin snort again as he walked down the hall. Another short coughing fit stirred you into sitting up, but once it finished you noticed a distinct lack of a certain android. Nines was nowhere to be found. It was fair to guess he was probably at work while Gavin waited for you to wake up, the android had always been the more productive of the two. Every muscle in your body seemed to ache as you laid back down. At least you had saved Isabelle.

“Officer (L/N), good to see you’re awake,” A man you assumed was your doctor entered the room, followed by your partner who didn’t look all too happy, “I hear you’ve been coughing since you woke up?”

You nodded, another weak cough ripping out of your throat, “Yeah.”

He nodded and made a note on his tablet, “Well there was quite a bit of fluid in your lungs when they brought you in so you may still be trying to clear some of that, which is fine. If it doesn’t go away in a few days though you may want to come back and let us check it out,” He explained, “And other than that you should be good to go. We’ve had you for a day, and no complications have presented. I’ll get a nurse in here to take out your IV and then you’re cleared to leave with your father.”

“Thanks, doc,” You replied shortly. As soon as the doctor left you shot a look to Gavin, “Father?”

He waved a hand at you dismissively, making a noise deep in his throat, “I might as well be at this point. Besides, it was the only way Nines and I were getting in here; apparently being your partners wasn’t enough. Nines told them we were your fathers.”

You squinted suspiciously, “Where exactly is Nines?”

Just then the android walked in, a small bouquet of flowers in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his other, “Has she woken?”

“No,” You snorted before coughing twice.

Nines rolled his eyes and handed Gavin the cup of coffee, “I already miss the peace and quiet.”

You laughed quietly, “Thanks Nines, I missed you too.”

The android walked over to your bedside and handed you the flowers, gently smoothing back your hair and kissing your forehead, “You had us scared. Never do that again,” He whispered, “Please.”

You looked up at your partner and saw his LED was yellow. Concern painted his face as he looked into your eyes. It felt like he was looking into your soul, pleading for you not to put your life on the line again. Slowly, you nodded, a silent promise to listen to him. He leaned back, LED shining blue with your confirmation, and guilt swimming in your chest.

“I’m sorry. I just…Nines she would have died,” You sighed, “I won’t do it again but I just had to. She was so young.”

He nodded, “I know. Isabelle told me she was six years old and that you told her not to be afraid of me because I’m a big softy. I bought her a hot chocolate as per your request and got her back to her mother,” He smiled softly.

“See, you are a big softy,” You joked lightly, “If I had to go back and make that choice again I would. No mother deserves to bury their child.”

Nines shook his head, “You have a heart of gold, Officer, but you’re dumb.”

“Just dumb enough,” You confirmed.

Gavin chuckled at your ability to make jokes even when everything feels somber. You coughed a couple more times, your chest aching slightly from the action as you laid back. A nurse came in not long after, an android who seemed more than happy to do his job. He checked your vitals one last time before detaching any remaining wires from your body and taking out your IV. With a nod and a quiet reminder that you were free to go, he left the room. Gavin helped you up from the bed and you noticed you were only in a hospital gown.

Nines held up a pile of clothing, “I suppose you want these?”

“Are they Gavin’s sweats?” You asked, somewhat excited.

“His pants but my hoodie actually,” The android confirmed with a smile, “We both know you like mine better.”

You nodded, “I do. Your hoodies are bigger and softer,” You took the clothes from Nines thankfully, slipping the sweatpants on under the gown and turning away from the men to pull off the thin material and trade it for the hoodie, “Much better,” You sighed.

“Let’s go, kid. Sunshine misses you and so does tin can’s desk,” Gavin chuckled, throwing his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the hospital.

You groaned, “I have to go back to work? But I nearly drowned in ice water to save a kid, doesn’t that count for anything? Like a single day off?”

He laughed, “It counts for brownie points. There’ll be a news story about you and you’ll have to do a press release for like, twenty minutes.”

“Do I really have to do a press release?” You asked and rolled your eyes, “I don’t need a bunch of reporters all shouting questions at me.”

“It’s scheduled for tomorrow morning,” Nines informed you, “You’ll have to wear your uniform and answer questions for about half an hour.”

You scoffed and leaned into Gavin’s warmth, “The entire city already knows who I am and what I did probably. The news is all over shit like this, why do I still have to do a press release if everyone knows what happened?”

Nines placed his hand on your shoulder, “It’s only for forty minutes. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

___

You woke up feeling like trash. Your head pounded and your entire body ached as you coughed periodically. Nines had delivered two slices of buttered toast to you, and asked how you were feeling. His scans didn’t indicate anything wrong besides a low grade fever so he promised to bring you back some ibuprofen, but you’d still need to get dressed and ready for work. You did so sluggishly, pulling on your blues and tying your hair back in your signature French braid. Makeup was minimal because feeling like trash means letting your skin breathe in hopes of not feeling like trash. You didn’t even notice the bags forming under your eyes.

After eating your toast and taking the plate back to the kitchen Nines handed you the ibuprofen like promised. As soon as you downed the two small pills with a swig of water Gavin was ushering you out the door, scolding you about being late to your own press release. Nines lagged behind a bit, grabbing a few things to throw in the trunk before joining you and Gavin in the car. He drove quickly, most likely breaking the speed limit by twenty miles per hour or so, so you wouldn’t be late. All you know was that everything felt hazy and you were having problems focusing. You continued to cough, complaining that your chest hurt. It didn’t seem to Gavin or Nines that you were very responsive, so when they parked at the precinct the android took the liberty of pulling you out of the car and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He grabbed the bag he had thrown in the trunk earlier and walked into the precinct.

“You guys are late!” Tina scolded loudly as she scurried up to the partners, “The reporters are getting restless. Coffee and donuts can only placate journalists for so long!”

You groaned quietly and coughed as Nines set you down in his chair, “Yes well, we had a slight delay,” He stated pointedly, obviously annoyed.

Tina looked at you and scowled, “She looks like shit. She can’t talk to the reporters like that.”

“I know,” Nines replied flatly, setting the duffle bag on the ground and rifling through it. He took out two small bags and handed them to Tina, “Fix it.”

Tina looked at the makeup bags in her hand, one of brushes, one of your regular makeup, then down at you, “You owe me coffee, and the good stuff not the office stuff.”

“Deal, just make her look presentable,” The android growled.

Gavin stood back and watched as Tina found your foundation and concealer and got to work. You were groaning and trying to push her away weakly. Obviously you didn’t feel good, and that didn’t sit well with the detective. You looked pale aside from the flush that was covering your cheeks, however Tina was currently covering it up. Deep purple bags had set under your eyes and you generally looked miserable. Coughs tore from your throat frequently, sounding wetter than before, and you had to spit into a trashcan more than once in the process. No amount of cheap concealer was covering the bags though, and Tina stood shaking her head.

“That’s the best I can get it,” She surrendered.

Nines nodded, “She looks…presentable. It will have to do for now. Officer are you with us?” He knelt down before you and snapped in front of your eyes.

You shoved his hand away weakly, “Fuck off, Robocop,” You grumbled, a short coughing fit forcing you to hunch.

The android didn’t look amused as he hauled you out of the seat, “Just get through this press release and don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

Nines dragged you across the precinct and to the press release room where Fowler was stalling for time. When the android walked in his face lit up, but Nines shot Jeffrey a grim look. Gavin followed behind you, nudging you every now and again to follow the taller android. For you, everything was still hazy, a fog settling over your mind but also your vision. When Fowler announced you and called you forward you stumbled up to the podium, gripping onto it like a lifeline. Your head swam and you felt weak; you shouldn’t be up there. Something was wrong.

“Officer (L/N), how does it feel to know you saved that little girl’s life?” One reported asked.

“Fantastic,” You tried to muster all your energy into the response but it only came out a mumble, “She’s such a sweet little girl and I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Would you do it again?”

“In a heartbeat,” You responded to the question, swaying slightly. You spent the next couple of minutes answering the onslaught of never ending questions. Half an hour, you reminded yourself as you kept going, or did Nines say forty minutes? You couldn’t remember. Every now and again you would cough, turning away from your mic only to excuse yourself and apologize afterwards. It seemed like a lifetime until someone asked a peculiar question.

“Are you feeling alright, Officer?”

“Hm?” You hummed in confusion, “Could you-?” Your grip slipped from the podium and you stumbled backwards, your back slamming into the wall before you fell to the ground. The audience gasped. You clutched your sides as a long coughing fit wracked your body, and in an instant it seemed like Gavin was by your side.

“Hey, kid, I need you to concentrate, okay?” He asked, panic in his voice. You didn’t respond, your eyes unfocused as you looked past him. The detective shoved his hand up against your forehead, then slowly slid it over the temple, “Shit,” He muttered, “Nines, she’s gotta go back to the hospital, something’s not right. She’s burning up,” Gavin hurriedly pulled you into his arms and turned to address the audience of reporters, “Uh…Officer (L/N) was released from the hospital yesterday however it seems she’s having some uh…unexpected complications. I’m sorry but we’ll have to cut this short.”

The detective rushes down off of the lifted platform that held the podium, careful not jostle you too much. Nines opened the door out of the room, allowing Gavin to pass before following after him. You were complaining in his arms, burying your head into his chest and begging him to make it stop. You sounded pitiful and Gavin didn’t know what to do, he’d never taken care of a kid before let alone one desperately ill. It was almost enough to make him stop and sit down on the floor to coddle you and whisper false promises until you felt better. The falter in his step caused Nines to place his hand on the detective’s lower back, urging him to keep moving.

“She’ll be alright, Detective. She just needs to see a doctor,” Nines reassured softly, “Stay in the back with her.”

Gavin nodded and continued on to his car. He gently laid you out in the backseat before climbing in after you, pulling you back into his arms to comfort you. Nines got in the front and stuck the key in the ignition, turning it and immediately pulling out of the parking lot. You tossed and turned in Gavin’s arms, your eyes screwed shut from the discomfort.

“I feel like I’m dying,” You groaned, coughing again.

“You’re not dying, you’re just sick,” Gavin cautioned, feeling uncomfortable at the mention of death.

You shook, “Never been this sick before,” A violent coughing fit wracked your body, jostling you in Gavin’s lap before you settled down again with a groan, “My chest hurts,” You whined, a pained whimper escaping you.

“I know, kid,” He leaned down and gently kissed your head, “I know. It’s gonna be okay. We just gotta get you to the hospital and they’ll take care of you.”

A few pained tears slipped out of your closed eyes as you coughed again, weakly, “I just wanna go home. Take me home,” You cried.

Gavin shook his head, “You have to go to the hospital, greenie. Something’s wrong and we gotta know what.”

“Please.”

He sighed, “We’re almost there. You’re going to be fine, just hang in there. Nines how much longer?”

“Five minutes,” The android responded, “There’s bound to be a wait once we get there though.”

Gavin froze, “I forgot about wait time. Can we abuse our badges?”

“Highly unlikely,” Nines shook his head, “It’s not enough of an emergency to push her to the top of the list, badge or not.”

You were still shifting uncomfortably in Gavin’s lap, causing him to look down and help readjust you, “You’re fine, kid. Settle down.” You were crying, hands pressing on your chest as you continued to cough, “C’mon you’ve been through worse, you’re being a wimp.” He took your hands to pull them away from your chest.

“It hurts to breathe,” You whimpered, “I don’t know what’s going on. I just want to go home.”

Gavin spent the rest of the ride trying to hush you and calm you down. Each time you coughed it felt like fire in your chest, and breathing was nearly just as bad. You kept telling your partners that you wanted to go home and they promised you they’d take you home after you saw a doctor, but that wasn’t soon enough for you. As soon as Nines had engaged the parking break Gavin was out of the car and pulling you into his arms. He held you like a koala, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders so you could just hide your face in his neck if you wanted. To him, you were just a kid, someone who missed out on a lot without having a father around, but now he was here to protect you and he was going to do everything in his power to make you feel safe.

“Nines, go ahead and get her signed in. Try and see if your badge will get you anywhere and let them know what happened,” Gavin ordered the android.

Nines nodded and took long strides ahead of Gavin to get you signed in to start the wait. Gavin readjusted you in his arms, causing you to whimper and cough weakly. He hushed you softly, walking slowly as to not jostle you too much. You were very warm in his arms and he could feel the small tremors running through you as you were half asleep in his arms. He walked in through the emergency room entrance and sat down in one of chairs, readjusting you so you were comfortably on his lap. There were plenty of people waiting with kids and by themselves, but too many for Gavin’s liking.

Nines sat down beside his partner, “I was able to convince them to move her up in the order but some of these people have been waiting for hours. I was told to expect an hour wait or more before they were able to take her.”

“You’re kidding?” Gavin gawped, “An hour? We’re police officers!”

“I’m aware,” grumbled Nines, “But we are also part of the general public and will have to wait. Why don’t you let me hold her for a bit? I might be able to help her fever.”

Gavin allowed Nines to take you from him and settle you into his lap. At this point you were barely coherent, practically asleep in your miserable state. Immediately, Nines cooled his internal temperature as much as he could, pressing his cold hands to the bottom of your spine and the back of your neck. You leaned into his touch happily, the cool feeling nice against your feverish skin. Nines cooed softly in your ear when you whimpered and coughed, trying to keep you as calm as possible. The situation was already odd enough; three officers in their uniforms, one desperately sick and sitting on her coworker’s lap. The others in the waiting room were shooting them odd looks, except for one mother who sat in the corner with her toddler; she gave them a sympathetic look, one parent to another.

Eventually the triage nurse got through the long line of waiting patients and called your name. Nines stood immediately, and gave Gavin a look so he would stay put. It was only triage after all and that didn’t necessarily mean you were going back for treatment yet. You just needed to have a short examination to determine your condition. Nines followed the nurse to a small room and when he goes to set you onto the examination table you refused to let go.

“My apologies, but it seems she doesn’t want to be set down,” Nines sat down on the table himself, “I promise she’ll be compliant and I’ll make this as easy as possible for the both of us.”

The nurse smiled kindly, “It’s no worry. We go through this with a lot of children, I’m sure it’s not different with a young adult.”

The nurse was kind and patient as she took your vitals. Nines had to answer all the questions for you, seeing as you refused to move your head from where it was buried against his chest. He told her about your fever and the pain in your chest and an estimate of how much pain you were most likely in, which he approximated to be an eight with how you had been crying and whimpering on and off for the past hour or so. Nines also included the incident at the precinct and how you had fallen. This seemed to concern the nurse as well as how out of it you were.

“Is there anything that may have caused this that you know of?” The nurse asked.

“Two days ago she had fallen into a frozen lake and nearly drowned. She was brought to the hospital and once she woke up she was cleared and discharged. That was yesterday,” Nines informed her, his LED going yellow as he realized the doctors had probably missed something.

The nurse’s eyes widened, “Oh dear, I didn’t realize she’s the officer that saved the little girl.”

“Yes, she is,” Nines nodded, “But right now she’s not an officer. She’s the daughter of two very concerned fathers who just want her to stop hurting.”

The nurses nodded as she marked something on her tablet, “She’s marked as critical and high importance. She’ll be going back for a further examination as soon as a bed frees up. For now I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to head back to the waiting room.”

Nines stood, “Thank you, nurse.” With a nod, Nines left the room, carrying you back out to the waiting room and reclaiming his seat, “She’s been declared critical, she’ll be the first to go back when a bed opens up,” He informed his detective.

Gavin nodded, “How’s she doing?” Concern dripped into his voice.

Nines sighed, “She’s been asleep for the past fifteen minutes but it’s been uneasy. She stirs but falls back to sleep almost immediately. It seems to have quelled the pain a bit but she’s still running a fever of 102 degrees.” He pressed his hand back to your neck, “I’m worried,” He admitted softly.

“I am too, big guy,” Gavin agreed, “I’m glad she fell asleep though.”

Nines held onto you for another ten minutes before passing you back to Gavin, saying he needed to call the captain and explain the situation. Gavin told him to ask for tomorrow off, on the off chance Fowler would be generous, but they were flooded with work right now and the chances of a day off were low. You were sound asleep against his chest. He was just thankful you weren’t coughing anymore. Nines returned after twenty minutes, just in time for them to call your name. The android lifted you out of Gavin’s arms and followed the nurse back to a bay, Gavin following behind him. An emergency physician was waiting in the room when Nines laid you out of the bed and gently shook your shoulder to rouse you out of your slumber.

“Nines? Where are we? Did we go home?” You asked, reaching out for him again, “My chest hurts,” You coughed.

The physician smiled and wheeled over in his chair, “Officer (L/N), I hear you’ve got a fever and have been coughing, and apparently also some chest pain, is that right?” You nodded, turning your head to looks at the doctor, “Our triage nurse suspects it may be pneumonia, and seeing as you were just with us for nearly drowning the other day I agree. We’re going to run some blood tests and take a chest x-ray to get to the bottom of this. How does that sound?”

You just nodded weakly, “Anything to make this stop.”

___

The next few hour were excruciating as you waited for results on the tests and x-rays, but more so on Gavin and Nines. You had fallen asleep in between your bloodwork and the x-ray, and then once again as soon as they returned you to the room. They had placed an IV drip in your arm and pushed some anti-nausea medicine after you had thrown up twice as well as a painkiller for your chest. Nines had somehow managed to remove the makeup Tina had caked on your face earlier, revealing the bright flush across your cheeks as well as the purple coloring beneath your eyes.

The android sighed as he brushed the hair back out of your face, “How did they miss this yesterday? Pneumonia can be very serious.”

Gavin shrugged, “All the tests they had taken had come back clear yesterday. Nothing they could have done at the time,” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside Nines, “She looks like shit.”

“She’s sick, Gavin.”

He huffed, “Yeah, and I don’t like it. We don’t have off work and that means we aren’t going to be able to take care of her. She’s going to have to take care of herself for most of the day.”

“Not necessarily. We could always-”

“Don’t even say that. I’m not even considering it. I’d rather leave her at home alone than leave her there,” Gavin grumbled.

Nines raised his eyebrows, “Well you don’t have to consider it because I am. We can’t leave her home alone if she has pneumonia.”

You weakly slapped Nines’ thigh, “You two are loud,” You complained with a cough then groaned.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Gavin laughed, “How are you feeling?”

You opened your eyes and turned to face him, your eyes not quite focused, “Tired and kinda like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest. Can we go home yet?”

He shook his head, “The doctor still hasn’t returned with the results. I don’t get what takes these places so long but we’re just going to have to wait it out,” He sighed, resting his hand on your knee, “I’m sure Sunshine will be excited to have you home for a few days though.”

“A few days?”

“Yes,” Nines confirmed, “This isn’t something you’re going to recover from quickly. Average recovery takes about a week of antibiotics and another week or two of coughing, but the fatigued feelings can linger for up to a month.”

You groaned unhappily and threw your head back against the small pillow on the bed. The doctor walked in, a small smile forming on his face when he noticed you were awake. Gavin and Nines stood from where they were sat on your bed and nodded to him respectfully. He had a large manila envelope in his hands, and moved to a light board hung on the wall and began to put up your chest x-rays.

“So our nurse was right, it’s definitely pneumonia,” The doctor started then flicked the switch to the board, lighting up the images, “If you look here,” He pointed at your lungs, “You can actually see the infection and how wide spread it is as well as the small amount of fluid in the bottom of your lungs. I was surprised when I saw them because the ones that were taken yesterday are completely clean, and it’s unusual for infection to spread so quickly. Thankfully, we were able to determine it is bacterial pneumonia so you’ll be able to take some antibiotics to fight it off, and you aren’t all that contagious, if at all.”

You nodded weakly, “How long?”

“Seeing as how aggressively it came on and how wide spread it is, I’m guessing about ten days until it’s gone, and at least four until your symptoms really start to subside,” The doctor looked at you with sympathy, “We’ll send you home with the antibiotics and a high dosage ibuprofen to help with the fever and pain, sadly you won’t be able to take a cough suppressant while taking the ibuprofen to avoid an accidental overdose.”

“How soon can I go back to work?” You asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too long.

“Ten days, once you’ve taken all the antibiotics. And you’ll have to come check in with us after those ten days also just so we can make sure the infection is gone and won’t return.”

You sighed in disappointment, ten days sick leave was more than you had left. Although you had tried your best to maintain your health you had still ended up taking eight of your fourteen available days. After that you tuned the doctor out, a glazed over look on your face. You were sure whatever the man was saying Gavin and Nines were listening and could relay it to you later. Ten days. You didn’t have ten days. Hell, there were barely ten days left in the year. What were you going to do? Surely Fowler would understand? But then again the man was also constantly on your ass about you not working hard enough and needing to get more done as a young officer. The next few days were going to be hell.

“You hear all that, kid?” Gavin raised his brow at you, gently knocking his hand against your shoulder to gain your attention.

You snapped out if it, “Huh? Yeah.”

He looked at you skeptically but nodded. When the doctor left the room Gavin sat on the bed again, “Okay, what’s going through your mind, kid? I can practically see your LED flashing red,” He joked lightheartedly.

“I don’t have ten sick days to give. I only have six left,” You frowned and then coughed, “I’m so behind on work already that I don’t want to take those six days. Fowler’s been on my ass for the past three months about being more productive-”

Nines cut you off, “Captain Fowler is hard on all of the new recruits. He sees promise in you and doesn’t want Gavin’s lack of effort to influence you.”

“Nines, it’s been a year and I haven’t slowed down once,” A short coughing fit cut you off and you groaned as you sat up, “I’m pretty sure he’s been trying to find a reason to fire me since January.”

“Nah, Fowler likes you kid,” Gavin reassured you with a smile, “You’re the most promising young officer he’s seen since I was a rookie.” His hand gently shook your leg, “We’re gonna get you home and nice and cozy and you’re going to recover comfortably without worrying about Jeffrey.”

“You’re lucky I have a fever and can’t think clear enough to argue with you,” You squinted your eyes at him and coughed.

He laughed, “Hell yeah I am.”

A nurse came in and took the IV from your arm and handed Nines the prescription, telling him he could get it filled in the hospital or their local pharmacy. With a nod, Nine’s LED went yellow as he sent the prescription information to the pharmacy that filled your Buspar. As soon as you were unhooked and clear to leave he lifted you into his arms again. You rested your head against the side of the android’s neck as your legs wrapped around his waist and you let out a single miserable cough. Nines was grateful that you weren’t fighting him and that it seemed your anxiety was at the lowest he’d ever witnessed.

“Go to sleep, Officer, we’ll be home before you know it,” He whispered in your ear as he carried you out of the hospital.

You nodded and did as told, the feverish haze returning now that you no longer had a cold drip running directly into your blood to help cool you down. Nines was warm but he was very comfortable and you snuggled into him. A soft chuckle left the android as he felt you nuzzling into him. When he tried to set you down in the car you clung to him, once again refusing to let go. Gavin reassured him that it was fine to sit in the back with you, and fished the car keys out of his boyfriend’s pocket. Gavin had barely started the car when you had fully fallen asleep against your partner.

___

Gavin and Nines had woken up and gotten dressed for work in silence. You wouldn’t be going to work today, or any of the next couple of days for that matter. They were still at ends with each other on what to do with you. Gavin was adamant that it would be fine to leave you at home with the animals, while Nines was sure you needed someone to watch over you, especially after your very clingy display yesterday. You hadn’t wanted to let go of either of your partners once you had your arms around them, whining every time they set you down. They had only managed to get you to bed by offering up one of your larger stuffed animals and one of Gavin’s old body pillows. You had curled around the pillow quickly and Nines had to practically shove your pills down your throat to get you to take them before he would allow you to sleep.

Now, they stood at the foot of your bed watching your sleep. They had to make a decision soon on what they were doing with you. Time was running out. Nines was running a full scan on you. Your fever, while not gone, had gone down two degrees to rest evenly on 100, but you were still suffering with the fluid in your lungs. A flush had colored your cheeks pink, across the bridge of your nose and touching the tips of your ears. Gavin watched you intently, how your grip periodically tightened around the plushy in your arms and how you had cocooned yourself in as many blankets as possible. Sunshine was pressed up against your back, snuggling into you.

“We’re taking her,” Nines decided with finality, “She will not take care of herself in this state and until her symptoms start to subside she will need to be looked after.”

“Fine,” Gavin growled, “But you’re calling the bastard, and try not to wake her up.”

“I contacted him last night,” Nines informed his human with a self-satisfied smirk, watching him storm from the room, “Please grab her medications.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pack a go-bag of sorts for her,” The detective huffed as he moved to the kitchen to grab some essentials.

Nines was careful as he lifted you into his arms, blanket cocoon and all. A gentle smile crossed his face as you turned and rested your head against his chest. If it weren’t for the slight furrow of your bow you would look completely at peace. He walked carefully through the house, his smooth steps effortless, never jostling you and allowing you to remain unaware of the fact you were no longer in bed. Gavin was tossing your medicine and other small essentials in a duffle bag for you when Nines walked into the living room. The man walked back into your bedroom for a moment before emerging again.

“Alright, that should be everything. Let’s go before we’re late,” Gavin grumbled, holding the front door open.

Nines stepped out of the house, watching as you face scrunched in distaste as the cool air hit you. You tried to hide your face more in your blanket and Nines was quick to maneuver you into the backseat of the car, out of the cold. Gavin locked the front door and got into the passenger seat while Nines started up the engine and began to drive. They were quiet, partly due to trying not to wake you and partially because Gavin was still mad he lost the argument.

“This is for the best, Gavin,”

“Shut up, tincan.”

The rest of the ride was spent in tense silence until they arrived at their destination. The large house in the middle of nowhere probably wasn’t the most ideal place for you to spend time recovering, but it was really the only option they had. Nines shut off the engine and before he could get out to get you out of the car, Gavin had already gotten you bundled into his arms. The visage warmed Nines’ heart, he really did enjoy Gavin showing her fatherly side. It wasn’t a secret he thought of you as a daughter nowadays. The way he coddled you close and looked down to check if you were comfortable was endearing. Nines retrieved the duffle from the trunk and motioned for Gavin to follow him as he went up to knock on the door.

The door opened quickly, as if the man had been waiting for them, “How’s my duckling?” Elijah asked as Gavin walked passed his brother and into the house.

“She’s better than she was yesterday but I fear her fever may go back up when she wakes,” Nines explained, stepping in so the door could be closed, “We packed the essentials you’ll need. When she wakes she’ll need both of her medications, most importantly the antibiotic. Her favorite stuffed animal, one of my hoodies, and a change of clothing or pajamas if she wants to shower are all in the bag.”

Elijah nodded along with the android, “What else? I know there’s more, pneumonia isn’t a joke.”

“She was nauseous yesterday, so I would give her something soft on her stomach, boiled chicken and steamed rice, or chicken noodle soup are always good staples,” The android continued, “We aren’t doing any cough suppressants, please let her cough as we’re hoping she’ll be able to expel some of the fluid from her lungs that way. And I wouldn’t recommend picking her up or cuddling with her. Once she has a hold of you she won’t let go.” Nines held out a printed list to the man, “I wrote everything down just in case.”

Elijah took the paper and looked it over, “I think I get the gist of it,” He smiled, “After all it can’t be too different from taking care of Gavin when we were young. Speaking of, he barged in here and took off. We should go find him.”

Nines nodded and allowed Elijah to lead the way. They were both sure Gavin knew the way to the guest room. They walked the house quickly and quietly until the came to the guest room. Gavin had laid you down on the bed and rearranged your blankets so you would be comfortable. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, whispering to you as he felt your temple to check your temperature. Elijah and Nines took a moment to take in the sweet scene before them, then Nines gently rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. Gavin startled and stood up abruptly, turning to face his brother and husband, both of whom sported small smiles.

“It’s time to go, Gavin. She’ll be fine,” Nines reassured him.

Gavin sighed, “I just don’t feel comfortable leaving her here. What’s going to happen when she wakes up and doesn’t know where she is?” He huffed and crossed his arms, a concerned look on his face as he glanced sidelong at your sleeping form.

Nines hadn’t taken that into consideration. Waking up in an unfamiliar environment may be frightening not only because you would most likely be uncomfortable here, but also because you were sick and weakened, your mind clouded by fever. His LED turned red for a moment at the thought of you scared and upset because of this decision. The light simmered to yellow and then slowly back to blue as he worked out solutions.

“She has her uncle, as well as the Chloe’s, as long as one is here when she awakes she won’t be afraid. We can also leave a voice message on her phone or she can call us for an explanation if she doesn’t understand. She’ll be alright, Gavin. You have to trust her. She’s an adult.” Nines stepped into the room and rested his hand on his husband’s bicep, “She’s going to be okay.” Gavin nodded.

Nines led Gavin from the room quietly, nodding his thanks to Elijah as they left. It was obvious that Gavin was hesitant to leave, and Elijah could understand why. You had endeared yourself to all of them. It was no secret that Gavin sees you as the kid he missed out on having and now to see you sick for the first time, and horribly sick at that, is probably terrifying to him; like a new parent with an infant. Elijah sat in the reading chair in the guest room, figuring he’d be there when you awoke, but for now, he pulled out a tablet and began working on some things.

___

Gavin drove when they left the house, claiming he needed a distraction from the fact that they had just abandoned you with his older brother. Nines sat quietly beside him, glancing out at the side mirror every now and again, but never to the other man in the car. It was obvious that both of them were uncomfortable with having left you behind with Elijah but it wasn’t like they had much choice. When the silence was broken, it was by Gavin.

“What happened yesterday Nines?” Gavin sighed, momentarily shifting his gaze to the android beside him and then back to the road.

“The girl we both consider to be our daughter developed aggressive pneumonia over night and passed out during her press release then we had to take her to the hospital,” Nines mumbled factually, staring out the window.

“I know that but…” Gavin hesitated for a moment before pressing, “I know you’re constantly monitoring my vitals and I know you can see hers too. Wasn’t there anything telling you something was wrong?”

Nines stiffened, “I…I…my HUD was filled with notifications. I knew she was sick and that her fever was worsening but I…I panicked. I let her go up on that stage and could see her deteriorating. I could see her getting worse and the inevitability of what was going to happen and the warnings cluttering my vision but I panicked and let her go.” He was shaking, just ever so slightly, and his LED was red.

Gavin had to double take to make sure he was seeing things right, “Hey, Nines, babe. It’s okay.” He reached over and put his hand on Nines’ thigh, “I should’ve stopped her in the morning. I could’ve called off that press release as soon as we had gotten there. I saw how bad she was doing and I didn’t do anything either. We aren’t perfect.”

“She relies on us, Gavin.”

“You’re right, she does. But neither of us have ever done this pseudo-parenting thing we’re doing. There wasn’t a kid before her, Nines. We never had to develop those parental instincts that just tell you that something is wrong and you need to protect the kid,” Gavin explained, “We’re doing our best and that’s all she asks for. Hell, she doesn’t even ask for it, sometimes she’s annoyed with it because we get overprotective.” He shook his head to clear his to thoughts, “What I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to screw up, as long as we help clean up the mess afterwards.”

Nines relaxed a bit, looking over to Gavin who was shooting him sympathetic looks, and nodded his head, “You would think it’d be easier because she’s a young adult and we’ve been doing this for a year.”

Gavin chuckled as he placed his hand back on the wheel and turned into the DPD parking lot, “Young and dumb. Kids her age think they’re invincible, they push their limits and insist they’re okay even when they aren’t.” He parked the car and took Nines’ hand in his, “I remember being her age. I was just like her. Hell, she’s a lot like ‘Lij too, the more I think about it. We were reckless in our twenties, always insisting on doing more than we could handle.” He kissed Nines’ hand, “She’s gonna be just fine, big guy.”

A small smile crossed Nines’ lips, “She’s strong,” He agreed, “She’s going to be fine.”

They locked eyes for a quiet moment, finding love and comfort in each other before silently agreeing it was time to go to work. In perfect sync they exited the car, and joined each other by the trunk. Nines wrapped his arm around Gavin’s waist, pulling him close to his side, as they walked into the precinct. Gavin leaned into his husband’s touch, looking up to see his LED was a calm blue after their discussion. He reached up and kissed the android’s cheek, enjoying the momentary blue blush that colored his cheeks before fading again seconds later.

As soon as they got through the entrance, Nines and Gavin were attacked by reporters, asking for updates in Detroit’s latest hero and where she was. Nines effortlessly informed them that you had contracted pneumonia and were staying with family as you recovered, which wasn’t wrong. While it wasn’t quite the whole truth, it was enough to placate most of the reporters. A few strays asked questions aimed towards their relationship with each other and with you, to which Nines shot down and asked them to leave the precinct. Once the reporters left and they made it to their desks, Nines was once again subject to questioning.

“How is she?” Connor asked quickly as he approached Nines’ desk. His hands were clasped against his chest and his LED was yellow, not that they needed it to know how worried that android was.

Nines sighed, “She’ll recover. Officer (L/Name) developed a rather severe case of pneumonia and won’t be back for at least ten days,” He told his brother.

Connor relaxed, his shoulders sagging a bit as he let out a relieved sigh, “I was so worried when I saw what happened but I didn’t want to contact you in case I distracted you,” He smiled slightly, “If there’s any way I can help please let me know.”

“Of course, Connor. You will be the first one we contact,” Nines reassured him.

“Where is she now? Not alone I hope.”

Nines shook his head, “Of course not. She’s with family,” He answered vaguely, knowing better than to tell anyone who she was with, “They’ll take care of her until we can pick her up in the evening and take her home.

Connor nodded, “As long as she isn’t alone. If I know her half as well as I think I do then I know she wouldn’t be taking care of herself.”

Nines nodded, “I hate to cut this conversation short, brother, but I have yesterday’s work to catch up on since we were unable to return after the incident.”

“Of course, I’ll leave you to it.”

Connor turned and left, leaving Nines and Gavin to sort through the stack of work they had left behind. They had a lot to catch up on after spending the past few days with you in the hospital, most of the paperwork had to do with you falling into the lake, but the newer stuff concerned the press release. Apparently, the news had gone berserk after you had fallen on stage, undeniably sick as a dog. Some reporters were claiming the police department was abusing their officers, not allowing them sick leave and forcing you to come in. They would need to provide a counter statement, along with Fowler and a few other officers from the precinct to debunk the rumor. Of course, they’d most likely want a statement from you once you were well again but that would have to wait. For now, Gavin and Nines needed to get back to work.

___

You stirred slightly, the light streaming in through the window dancing across your skin as you turned and settled atop your eyes. A low groan rumbled in your chest as you were pulled out of your slumber and back into the waking world. There was still an ache in your chest and a distinct urge to cough, as well as the heaviness that came with a fever. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, taking their sweet time to adjust to the golden ray of light shining right into them. Eventually, you were able to see and look around the unfamiliar room, a bolt of panic shooting through you as you realized you didn’t know where you were.

“You’re awake. And here I was thinking I would need to wake you up so you could take your medicine,” Elijah smiled down at you, setting the tablet he had been playing with aside. You made a small confused noise in the back of your throat, which was followed by three harsh coughs, “Gavin and Nines brought you to me for the day so they could make sure you were being taken care of while they are at work,” He picked up the two pill bottles off of the table, getting out a single pill from each bottle before trying to hand them to you.

You looked at his proffered hand dumbly, like you had never seen pills in your life, then rolled over, intending to fall back asleep. Everything hurt, especially your head and you wanted nothing to do with consciousness right now. Pulling the covers up to your chin, you grumbled quietly and shut your eyes, burying yourself back into the warmth of the bed. You still weren’t quite sure where you were, but Elijah was here so you must’ve been safe.

There was a slight tap on your shoulder, “Duckling, you have to take your medicine or you won’t get better.” You didn’t respond only burying yourself further into the covers, “(Y/N), I am not Nines. I’m not going to stick my fingers in your mouth to shove your pills down your throat. You can go back to sleep as soon as you take the pills.”

“No,” You whined, pulling the comforter over your head to block him our further.

“You are an adult,” Elijah warned, “I’m not playing games with you. Take your pills and then you can sleep, I won’t bother you again.” When you didn’t respond again he growled in frustration, “This isn’t funny.” He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently, “If you’re going to behave like a child then I will treat you like a child.”

You groaned and rolled over, “Go away, ‘Lijah.”

“One.” You grumbled a bit at what you thought was a fake threat, “Two.” He sounded mad, his tone firm and warning. Maybe it wasn’t a fake threat. “Three.”

Suddenly, Elijah was on top of you, wrestling the covers away from your face. You thrashed, albeit weakly, trying to shove the larger man off you. At the time though, you were no fight for him as you coughed violently and felt like any strength you had was gone. Elijah had torn the covers off the bed and pinned your hands with his, sitting on your thighs. He looked angry.

“Chloe!” He shouted for one of his androids.

When one of her entered the room she seemed to have read Elijah’s mind and gently took your wrists from him, continuing to hold you in place with a gentle smile on her lips. With the pills in one hand Elijah grabbed your cheeks with the other to pry your jaw open and jam the pills into the back of your throat. Once he got his fingers safely from your mouth, he held your mouth shut staring down at you. Chloe released your wrists.

“Swallow them and don’t you dare even think of spitting them out,” He threatened with a dark glare.

You swallowed the pills dry, tears welling up in your eyes as they scratched at your already sore throat. Elijah slowly climbed off of the bed, releasing you from his grip, and turning to leave the room. Free, you sat up and let the tears fall, sniffling singularly before crossing your legs. All you wanted was to go home, for Gavin or Nines to pull you into their side as you snuggled into them; they always made you feel better.

Elijah froze halfway to the door when he heard you sniffle, “Oh duckling,” He turned to face you, “I’m sorry.”

“I just want Gavin and Nines,” You brought your fist up to your face, wiping at the tears hopelessly, “They’re not mean to me.”

He withered a bit, he had made a mistake, “I know, but they’re at work duckling,” He walked back to the edge of the bed, “They’re coming back for you tonight though.”

You whimpered and held your arms out to Elijah. Whether you wanted a hug or to be picked up he didn’t know, but he remembered Nines warning him that you may not let go of him. He debated what he was going to do for a moment, looking up to the Chloe who remained in the room. She seemed to urge him to pick you up, like a father would his child, to comfort you. Relenting to your soft whimpers, Elijah lifted you up into his arms, allowing you to cling to him.

“Are you still tired or should we get you something to eat?” He hummed quietly in your ear.

You didn’t respond but that was okay, Elijah had already decided you needed to eat before going back to sleep. He motioned for Chloe to follow him, softly asking her to start making some soup for you. In the meantime he would take you to the entertainment room and put on a movie or something that would keep you occupied and your thoughts off of your dads. He knew you were just as serious about your work as both Connor and Nines, and surely it wouldn’t be good if you would dwell on the fact that you were here and not there. When he tried to set you down you wouldn’t let go, much like Nines had warned him, so instead he sat on the couch with you. You’d be fine with him.

___

Elijah answered the door himself for once, knowing who was going to be on the other side. The knocks on the door had been hard, rapid, and anxious and he couldn’t help but smile; of course his brother would be antsy to have you back. With you well supported on his hip, Elijah opened the door with a soft smile, enjoying the rare sight of Gavin and Nines on his front porch. Gavin barged into the foyer without a greeting while Nines politely apologized for the detective’s behavior and stepped into the foyer.

“How was she? Good I hope?” Nines asked.

Elijah shut the door and readjusted you in his arms, “As you can see I fell victim to picking her up. The morning was eventful, but after that she just drifted in and out of sleep and was quiet. She had chicken noodle soup for lunch but I haven’t managed to get her to agree to dinner tonight.” He smiled down at you, half asleep against his shoulder and not aware of who he was talking to, “She missed you both dearly, asked for you more than once.”

Gavin held out his arms so Elijah could pass you to him, which he did gratefully, “Thanks for watching over her ‘Lij, we appreciate it.” You immediately clung to him, humming appreciatively.

“It’s not a problem; you know she’s welcome here anytime. I’m assuming I’ll have her for the next few days until she’s able to take care of herself?”

Nines nodded in confirmation, “We don’t have anyone else to watch her. Connor has offered but he doesn’t have off in the next few days,” He leaned over to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You mentioned this morning had been eventful?”

Elijah frowned, “She refused to take her medicine,” He explained hesitantly, “I had to force them into her mouth. The experience was unpleasant for both of us.”

The android frowned as well, “Yes, well, I had to do that the other night and will probably have to do it again tonight. Hopefully she’ll be more cooperative in the morning.”

“I would hope so. She’s far more stubborn than Gavin was as a child.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Gavin scoffed, “You just won’t let go of the one time I bit you when I was like four years old.”

“I still have a scar.”

“Scar my ass. Let’s go Nines. Thanks again Eli; we’ll see you in the morning,” Gavin waved and turned to leave the house, readjusting you as he went.

Nines rolled his eyes, “Good night, Mr. Kamski.”

Nines held the door open for his human so he wouldn’t accidently drop you. Gavin was talking to you softly, eliciting quiet hums and squeaks from you in response. As suspected, when he tried to set you down in the car, you wouldn’t let go of him, forcing him to sit with you in the back. He just smiled and enjoyed your clinginess for now, knowing he wouldn’t get this opportunity later. Nines got in the driver’s seat, smiling into the rearview mirror at his two favorite humans. You were in Gavin’s lap, your head resting on his shoulder while he rested his head against yours, rubbing mindless shapes into your back. No doubt he would also be asleep by time they arrived home.

He was right. By time they arrived home Nines was carrying both you and Gavin into the house. Though that wasn’t an issue for him seeing as he was an android. The only thing he dreaded was waking you up so you could take your medicine. Last night had been a battle, albeit short lived due to his strength but a battle nonetheless, and if this morning had also been a fight tonight was bound to be the same. Gavin woke when Nines had set you and him down on your bed, sitting up and yawning. The android motioned for him to be quiet, seeing as you had let go of him. As soon as Gavin was out of bed, Nines took the pill bottles on your nightstand and popped the lid off, taking out a single pill from each before recapping the orange bottles.

“(Y/N), you have to take you medicine,” He cooed softly, sitting down on the bed, causing the mattress to sink under his weight, “Wake up.” He used his free hand to jostle your shoulder a bit.

You groaned quietly, muttering a nearly inaudible, “Huh?”

“Can you sit up for me?” He asked, already moving to help you up. You complied easily with the android supporting your weight. He motioned for Gavin to grab the water bottle on the side table and when he did, Nines continued, “Could you open your mouth?” With your eyes shut, you opened your mouth, leaning heavily into the android. He took the opportunity to place the pills on the center of your tongue, taking the water bottle from Gavin and holding it to your lips, “Sip.” You did as told obediently, swallowing the pills far easier than he had expected you to. “Good girl. Now go to sleep, we have to wake up early in the morning.” Nines kissed your temple and laid you back against your pillows. As soon as you were down, you were asleep once again.

___

The next couple of days went off without a hitch. Elijah watched over you and you were slowly coming back to yourself, much more tired, but yourself. The other night you had been making dumb jokes with Gavin, but now you were stretched out beneath Nines’ desk, coughing every now and again but otherwise sleeping. He had laid out a thick blanket, a small pillow and another thinner blanket for you to cover yourself with. Elijah had called last night, telling them there was an emergency, something had come up with Cyberlife and he wouldn’t be able to watch you today. So Gavin and Nines took you with them but now had to hide you from Fowler and the others so they wouldn’t think you were fine to work. Not that you looked fine to work, you still looked half dead and sounded it too, but you were in the precinct.

“How’s (Y/N) doing?” Connor asked, approaching Nines, “It’s been a few days. Are the antibiotics working?”

“She’s doing just fine,” Nines responded a happy tone, “It seems with every day she gets a little stronger and is a little more herself.” You coughed weakly and Nines scooted his chair a little closer to his desk.

Connor squinted suspiciously, “Nines, what was that?” Seeing no point in lying to his brother, Nines rolled just far enough away from his desk for Connor to see you asleep at his feet, “What is she doing here?”

Gavin looked up with a death glare, “You can’t fucking tell anyone she’s here or they’ll expect her to work,” He hissed, “Eli couldn’t take her today so we brought her with us.”

“I won’t tell, but isn’t there anywhere better than the floor?” He asked as Nines moved to block you from view again, obviously concerned.

“I’m afraid she’ll have to stay there for now if we don’t want the others seeing her,” Nines informed his brother. He looked down with a soft smile, “Although she seems quite content to hug my feet.” You had been hugging his feet as he kept them warm to act as a space heater for you.

“Connor?” You murmured, sitting up and peering past Nines. Your timing for waking up was all too convenient.

The android smiled, “Yes it’s me, now go back to sleep kitten. You need your rest.”

“I’m fine,” You waved a hand at him dismissively, coughing into your other fist, “They could’ve left me at home today.”

Nines scoffed, “Leaving you at home was not an option and we all know it. You would never take care of yourself properly not to mention that you wouldn’t let go of me this morning and were begging us not to leave you.”

A blush colored your cheeks as you looked away from the androids, “I was still tired and emotionally compromised.”

“And you’re not tired now?” He smirked, already knowing the answer.

You deflated a bit, sighing, “I’m exhausted and I fucking hate it. I just want to be better already.”

Nines carefully ran his hand through your hair, “Five more days of antibiotics and then you’ll see the doctor again.”

“And a month more of fatigue,” You complained.

He frowned because he knew you were right, “Yes, well, there’s no way around that one so you might as well sleep while you can. No use in wasting energy now when you’ll need it for when you come back to work.” You nodded and laid back down, turning to face Gavin’s desk and fall back asleep, “She’s still very cooperative, but it’ll be interesting to see how unwilling she’ll become in the next few days.”

“I’m gonna kick her ass if she decides she doesn’t want to listen,” Gavin huffed, “She’s going to rest and get better whether she wants to or not.”

“I see,” Connor nodded, “I’ll leave you two to work then.”

The morning passed slowly. Nines kept you quiet and by quiet it meant every time you woke he carefully lulled you back to sleep. You were compliant, but mostly because Nines was warm and you hadn’t slept well last night. Gavin had managed to slip you a mug of hot chocolate from the break room at one point which helped keep you from complaining. While you didn’t cough as frequently now, it seemed the fits became worse as they became spread out and infrequent. You wouldn’t cough once for an hour but then you’d cough violently for a few minutes as if you were choking. It was increasingly difficult for Nines and Gavin to casually cover the noise and make sure you went unfound. When lunch rolled around you were completely out of it, asleep with your hand covering your eyes, a slight blush dusting your cheeks, and mouth wide open. Nines sighed as he looked down at you; you didn’t seem to be faring well.

“Nines,” Connor called as he came up behind his brother, placing his hands on the back of the chair, “The Lieutenant and I are taking a half day today and heading home. If I may, we could take (Y/N) with us and you could come pick her up after work,” He offered.

Gavin looked up and jumped on the offer, “Please. I think Fowler is about to slap us with an investigation and we can’t leave her here.”

Nines nodded, “Gavin is right. If you could take her for now we’d be very thankful.”

Connor beamed, “Of course! It’s not a problem at all.”

Hank meandered up and placed his hand on Connor’s shoulder heavily, shaking the android slightly, “So are we taking the kid or is she confined to the precinct floor?” He joked lightly.

Nines scooted his chair back and knelt down to rouse you, giving Hank his answer. The android carefully shook your shoulder with practiced intensity, knowing exactly how to wake you. However, you just grumbled and tried to roll over. Once he knew you were surely awake, Nines pulled you out from under his desk and lifted you so you stood. You leaned against him, wrapping your arms around him to hug him close as you mumbled something unhappily. You never did like having your naps disturbed.

Nines pet your hair gently, “Officer, Connor and Lieutenant Anderson have offered to take you home with them for the rest of the day, so you’re going to go with them. Behave, alright?”

“You say that as if I have a death wish,” You joked quietly, still half asleep as he passed you to Hank.

“Yes, well, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you did,” Nines shot back with a half-smile.

Gavin stood and ruffled your hair as Hank started to lead you to the doors, “Be good, kid. Take a nap with Sumo or something. We’ll see you later.”

Hank kept his hands firmly planted on your shoulders, using them to guide you through the precinct doors and out to his car. Connor trailed behind Hank, smiling happily at the fact that he’d have the chance to take care of you and help out. You were slowly waking up now that you weren’t stuck laying beneath Nines’ desk, becoming more aware that he and Gavin had passed you off to Hank and Connor. While you appreciated the change of view you weren’t quite sure this was something you wanted; you just knew Connor was going to try and baby you. You were sat in the back while Hank drove and Connor sat in the passenger seat.

“So how are you feeling, kid?” Hank asked.

You shrugged, “Good I guess, tired, but I’m always tired pneumonia or not,” You answered honestly.

“Not gonna die while you’re in my house, are ya?”

You laughed lightly, “I sure hope not.”

“Good because I think Nines and Gavin would actually try to kill me if anything happened while you were with us. They love you, y’know that, right?” Hank asked.

You scoffed, “Trust me, I know. They practically smother me.” You rolled your eyes, “But I love them back. They’ve pretty much adopted me and in a way I’ve adopted them as well. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

The rest of the car ride passed in amicable silence. You stared out the window watching familiar neighborhoods pass by. Slowly, the city streets became more residential and you began to take in the new sites of where the Anderson’s lived. Hank pulled into the driveway of a nice enough ranch house with a small porch and a brown door. You decided it fit Hank’s personality well as you followed him and Connor through the doorway. Sumo came barreling towards you and you kneeled down, allowing the Saint Bernard to barrel you over onto the ground. He stood over you, licking slobbery puppy kisses all across your neck and face as you giggled happily, burying your hands in his fur.

“Sumo! Long time no see big boy,” You laughed, pushing him away from you to sit up.

“Damn dog likes you better than he likes me,” Hank grumbled, as Connor helped you up, “You know the layout, kid. I’ll be in my room. Connor look after her.”

“Yes, Hank,” Connor nodded shortly.

You rolled your eyes as you went to flop on the couch, “It’s not like I’m about to keel over any second. I’m barely even coughing anymore, I’m just waiting to get cleared at this point.”

Connor moved into the kitchen, “Just because you are healing does not mean you are no longer ill. You still have excess fluid in your lungs, so please, do not operate under the illusion that you are well, because you’re not.”

“Wow, Connor. One more time for the people in the back,” You joked light heartedly, turning to see what he was doing.

He smiled and chuckled, “You’re still sick,” He repeated in simpler terms, “Happy now?”

Connor came back to the couch, pressing a mug of tea into your hands and kissing your forehead, “Oh c’mon, don’t you start smothering me too.” You smiled and leaned against him, “I’ve already got one overly protective robo-detective on my ass.” A yawn escaped you.

“Drink your tea and take a nap,” Connor instructed as he stood, running his hand through your hair tenderly, “I’ve got something I need to discuss with Hank. I expect you to be asleep by time I return.”

You really rolled your eyes this time, a frown settling across your features, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Con. A nap is the last thing I want right now. I’ve been sleeping for the past five days.”

“I’m aware,” He sighed, “But as your best friend I still care about your wellbeing. You are fatigued and sick and the best way to recover is to sleep.” Connor walked away, turning his back towards you as he went to go talk to Hank.

The reminder was unwelcome and you huffed, setting your untouched tea on the coffee table, “Fine. You’re just as bad as Gavin and Nines.”

Although your voice was quiet Connor heard it. He paused in the doorway, hand on the frame as he turned to look at you again. You had already laid down and rolled to face the back of the couch. Sumo was pawing at your back and whining, but ended up just climbing on top of you to lay awkwardly, half on you and half on the couch. The android sighed. It wasn’t his intention to upset you. Not knowing what to do, he turned back and continued on his way to Hank’s room.

You clung to Sumo, his weight comforting as tears slipped down your cheeks, “They just don’t get it Sumo,” You whispered to the Saint Bernard, “Each day eats at me a little more. I can’t just keep laying here; I’m going to lose it.”

The large bear of a dog calmly licked away your tears, trying to soothe your aching heart with kisses and cuddles. What did we ever do to deserve dogs? You buried your hands in his fur, rubbing small circles into his shoulders with your fingertips. It was slow and soothing, everything you needed to rid yourself of any anxiety that had found its way into your chest since you left the precinct. Thinking about it, you almost wished you were still there, asleep at Nines’ feet under his desk. At least then you’d be with Gavin and Nines. It seemed Sumo was taking Connor’s somewhat indirect order and fell asleep against you. As much as you wanted to be awake, to do something other than sleep, the weight of the dog on top of you along with his warmth and steady breathing seemed to create a lullaby, lulling you into yet another light sleep.

___

It was dark and shadowy here. But you weren’t quite sure where “here” was, only that you were chained to something. Ebony figures moved around you, their footsteps making muffled sounds as they walked, circling you like sharks. You fought against your restraints, tugging and kicking but nothing worked. The rattle of heavy metal chains was drowned out by laughter, loud and raucous. Men. The figures were men.

“Be a pretty little whore now and sit still, daddy has a lot of friends with him and he expects you to behave.”

Joe.

The light flicked on, momentarily blinding you. When your eyes adjusted and you blinked them open once more, you found yourself chained to the desk in the evidence room. They had found you. They had tracked you all the way to Detroit and come after you and now you were helpless. You tried to scream for someone, anyone, but there was a gag in your mouth. You cried, trying to sob but all that came out was muffled noises.

Joe grabbed your face roughly, “Oh yes princess, we found you. Our favorite little spy that got us in a whole lot of trouble. And now, we’re here to get payback.” He brought out a pocket knife and flicked it open, bringing it close to your face.

___

You shot up with a start, practically throwing Sumo to the ground with the force. Tears spilled from your eyes as you gasped and sobbed. It was just a nightmare. He’s gone. It was just a nightmare, you tried to tell yourself to no avail. You gasped harshly, clutching at your chest with one hand and your cheek with the other. There was no blood; there was not cut. You were fine. But your mind didn’t want to believe that. You were spiraling and you were spiraling quickly. Each gasp for breath was short and painful, tearing a ragged cough from your throat. You lurched off the couch, throwing yourself to your hands and knees on the ground as you tried to breathe, but the coughing and hyperventilating were making it impossible.

“(Y/N)!” Connor shouted from somewhere nearby. You were suddenly on your back and the android was hovering above you, “You need to calm down.” You shook your head, only coughing more with each movement, only getting tiny breaths in. You felt like you were dying. “Hank!”

“What?” The Lieutenant emerged from his room and peered over the couch, “Holy shit, what’s going on?! She’s turning blue.”

“Start the car, we need to go. Now!” Connor ordered as Hank ran off to go get his keys and get in the car. Connor leaned back over you, taking your face in his hands so you’d stop tossing, “I’m going to pick you up, okay? We’re going to take you to the hospital.”

You nodded in understanding and felt Connor slip his arms under you and lift you from the ground. He rushed out to the car where Hank was already waiting, deftly sliding you into the back seat before jumping into the front. As soon as the door shut Hank was peeling out of the driveway and speeding to the hospital. To imagine you’d be back for a third time in the matter of a week. This turn of events did nothing to calm the anxiety attack and you were cold, horribly cold as you continued gasping for air and coughing. This it is, you lamented internally, this is how I die. I’m going to suffocate. You shut your eyes, bracing against the agony in your chest.

___

Soft voices filled the room, waking you slowly. A soft groan left your throat as you became aware of the ache in your entire upper body. A nasal cannula was draped over your ears and providing a steady flow of oxygen. You blinked your eyes open slowly, recognizing the pristine ceiling of a hospital room. You turned your head to face a few of the voices, finding Hank and Connor who smiled down at you, then turned the other way to find Nines and Gavin.

“Feeling better kid? You scared the shit out of me and Connor,” Hank asked gruffly.

You could barely remember what had occurred though, “My chest hurts now. What exactly happened?” You reached up to scratch your cheek, feeling the phantom feeling of cool steel drawing across it.

“I think you had a nightmare,” Connor answered, “I was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a few reports and checking on you. You had been asleep peacefully last I had checked but then I heard Sumo yelp so I came to check again and you were on the ground.” He paused, looking down as he fiddled with his coin, “It didn’t look like you were really breathing between how hard you were coughing and hyperventilating. Your lips were turning blue from the lack of oxygen so we brought you to the hospital.”

You nodded as parts of the nightmare came back to you, “It was a nightmare,” You said softly, “A bad one.”

“Must’ve been,” Gavin sighed, reaching out to rest his hand on top of yours, “You gotta stop doing this to us, kid. I swear, next time I hear you’ve been hospitalized I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

You sighed, “It’s not like I want to be here. At this rate they’re going to think I’m a frequent flyer.”

“Hate to break it to you kid but you’ve been here three times in seven days or so. You are a frequent flyer, especially since this most likely won’t be the last seeing as you’re a cop,” Hank laughed, “Don’t worry, when Gavin and I were your age we were both considered frequent flyers too.”

“Yeah, but three times in a single week?”

“Not my fault you decided to take a dip in a frozen lake,” Hank teased and you just scoffed.

Nines stood, gently patting your knee, “Luckily, they don’t feel the need to keep you for observations seeing as that as soon as your anxiety attack stopped you were able to breath normally again. They’re letting you come home tonight. I’ll go let them know you’re awake.”

“Thank you, Nines,” You yawned, shifting in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

As Nines left, Connor helped you adjust the bed so you were sitting up. You talked quietly with the three men in your room. Gavin tried asking about the nightmare but you immediately shot him down with a shake of your head and a quiet “I don’t want to talk about it,” which only made him sigh. Nines returned shortly with the doctor who had diagnosed you five days prior. He jokingly expressed his amusement at seeing you again so soon but then gave you a rundown of your condition. While you were doing better than before and the antibiotics were working, he had decided to take you off the pain medicine and put you on a cough suppressant instead. He reminded you that you weren’t supposed to strain yourself, no work, and to avoid anything that may trigger another anxiety attack, to which you had to resist rolling your eyes seeing as nightmares aren’t exactly avoidable. When he was done he told you that you were free to go, and left the room.

You practically tore the cannula off of your face and stood, though your legs immediately felt like jelly. Nines caught you before you could collapse, scooping you up into his arms, “Thank Nines,” You sighed, letting your head thump against his chest.

Nine craned his neck a bit to kiss the top of your head, “Let’s get you home.”

You grumbled quietly as Nines once again carried you from the hospital. Connor and Hank followed Nines and Gavin out, bidding you and them good night before heading to their own car. Nines set you down to let you get into the car yourself, to which you easily slid into the back. The entire drive home was quiet. Nines and Gavin tried to talk to you, but you, being moody and upset, elected to stare out the window and pretend you didn’t hear them. Needless to say, Gavin was getting angry.

Gavin slammed both of his hands against the dashboard startling you, “We’re in the same damn car, greenie. I know you can fucking hear us. Stop acting like a brat and talk to us like the goddamn adult you claim to be!” You looked away from the window and into the rearview mirror, meeting Gavin’s eyes, “Why are you being so fucking difficult?”

You shrugged petulantly, and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit you don’t know! What is going on with you?” He barked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it. Well guess what. That option went out the window when you decided to ignore us!”

You turned back to the window, right hand grabbing at your left wrist as you avoided eye contact, “I feel so fucking useless right now,” You grit out, “I feel so goddamn useless and I’m tired of it. All I’ve been doing for five days is sleeping and watching the days pass in a fucking haze and I hate it. And of course as soon as I’m out of my practically drug induced coma my anxiety rears its head and goes fucking haywire!” You growled out, nearly shouting. “I’m falling apart at the fucking seams right now!” You were shaking uncontrollably.

“That’s no reason to lash out at us!” Gavin snapped.

“Both of you stop this instant. Yelling will not get us anywhere,” Nines interjected calmly, “I think it may be best if we talk about this when we get home.”

That shut you and Gavin up, allowing Nines to properly concentrate on the road for the rest of the ride. When he pulled into the driveway and parked, Gavin was the first one out, slamming the car door behind him. Nines was slower, going as far as to open your door and help you up to make sure you weren’t going to fall again. His hand took up its usual spot at the small of your back, the slight pressure and warmth reassuring. As soon as you walked into the house you were greeted by Sunshine who whimpered at your feet. Gavin had probably yelled at her. Bending down, you scooped the golden retriever up in your arms, flipping her onto her back like a baby with some effort.

“Hi Sun-bun,” You whispered to her, smiling when she craned her neck to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I know. I missed you too.”

Nines let his hand drag up your back until it rested on your shoulder, “Couch,” He commanded softly, “I’ll go get Gavin,” He paused, “And also tell him not to yell at Sunshine again.”

You nodded and walked further into the house with the android, though he went towards his shared bedroom and you went to sit on the couch with Sunshine in your lap. She cried quietly, kissing your face plenty as you rubbed her chest and belly, cooing to her. There was the quiet sounds of what Gavin had once called a “marital scuffle” in their bedroom. Now they were fighting. Great. You just fucked everything up tonight hadn’t you? Nines came back and scooted you into the middle of the couch, causing Sunshine to jump out of your lap as he and Gavin sat to either side of you.

“You’re upset,” Nines started carefully, “Without getting frustrated, why?”

You looked up at Nines before sighing, “Being sick has screwed up my entire life. I’m not happy with just sleeping through the day and not knowing what’s going on around me.”

“How,” Gavin paused and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, “How can we help?”

You shook your head, “I just want to go home. And not here home. Home home. Back with my mom, back in New York city, back to where I wasn’t a fuck up even if they just used me.” Tears welled up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you have to stay here,” Nines apologized, taking your hand in his, “It’s not the worst place to be. We’ll get through this together.”

The tears spilled down your cheeks, “I hate this,” You whispered weakly, your voice cracking, “I want to go home.”

Before Gavin could even begin to reach for you like he’d normally do when you were crying, you had crawled into Nines’ lap and buried your face against his neck. The android’s LED turned yellow as he wrapped his arms around you and began to quietly comfort you. Gavin froze, hands halfway to you before he dropped them into his lap as he remembered he had yelled at you. He had yelled and swore all because you were upset, and now you turned to Nines instead of him. Deep down that hurt, and it showed in the heartbroken expression on his face. Sunshine was whining again, nosing at your back and pawing at Nines’ legs. Your tears didn’t last long but they had left you hiccupping against the android’s chest miserably.

“Is today over yet?” You asked quietly.

“It’s over if you want it to be,” He answered, leaning down to kiss your head, “I can take you to your room if you want?”

“Please.”

Nines nodded and stood, holding you in his arms. He was slow as he walked to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed, watching as you rolled onto your side to face away from him. Sunshine came trotting into the room and jumped straight onto the bed to snuggle up against your chest. With a sigh, Nines began to gently run his hand through your hair, smoothing a few unruly strands. It seemed like you curled in on yourself, trying to avoid the contact in favor a being alone.

“Will you at least take your medicine before I leave?” Your partner asked, already gather the pill bottles in his free hand, “You can’t get better without them.” You rolled to face Nines and unburied a hand from your blankets to accept the pills. When he placed them in your hands you threw the pills back and dry swallowed them, “Thank you. You know you can talk to us, right?” You nodded, “This entire ordeal has been taxing on all of us in different ways. We’re just worried about you and it’s not because you’re being reckless but because this illness has been tough on you.”

You reached out and took his hand, “I just want to be okay again.”

“Five days,” He reminded you, “Five days and you can return to work and we can pretend everything is back to normal until it truly is. Now go to sleep, Gavin and I will be leaving you home alone tomorrow.”

“Can you take me to Uncle Eli? I don’t want to be alone,” You asked quietly.

“I’ll call him tonight and see if he can have you over. Good night, (Y/N).” His hand slipped from yours.

Nines turned off your lights and shut the door as he left your room. Gavin had migrated from the couch to sitting petulantly in the kitchen counter, taking small swigs from a bottle of whiskey. Oxy was resting on his lap as he let his legs swing slightly. The cat meowed, reminding his owners that he and Iggy had yet to be fed and Nines was quick to dole out 1/4th cup of dry cat food to each of them. Gavin hadn’t moved when Oxy jumped from his lap, still staring off into space and taking another shot from the bottle.

“Gavin-”

“I yelled at her Nines. She was upset and I yelled at her and now she hates me.”

“I doubt she hates you,” The android sighed, moving in between his partner’s legs and taking the bottle from his hands, “Tonight has just been an emotionally charged night.”

Gavin looked up at his husband before slumping forward to rest his head against the android’s chest, “She always lets me hold her when she cries. She went to you instead and…god dammit I fucked up.” He winced at his own words.

“Just because she looked for comfort in me this once rather than you doesn’t mean she hates you, love,” Nines reassured him, “I’m sure by tomorrow morning she’ll barely even remember what happened tonight.” Gavin grunted in response, “Now come, do I need to carry you to bed too?” The man simply raised his arms in response and Nines chuckled, lifting him off the counter as if he weighed nothing. “Both of my humans are just large children. She asked if she could stay with Uncle Eli tomorrow.”

“Uncle?” Gavin looked up with a slightly disgusted face, “How did he manage that one?”

“Who even knows,” Hummed the android, pressing a kiss to Gavin’s lips, “But that’s unimportant right now,” Hi nipped at Gavin’s jaw.

Gavin chuckled as he leaned into Nines, “It always comes back to this huh?”

“Well considering we do this nearly nightly I don’t see why you’re so surprised,” Nines quipped as he tossed his husband onto the bed and shut the lights off, “You’re going to love what I have in mind tonight.”

___

You spent the last of your sick days being dropped off at Elijah’s house in the mornings and picked up again in the evenings. You had to argue with your new found uncle about what you could and couldn’t be doing and after enough begging he brought you into his private lab. There, he began to teach you the beginnings of robotics and how he managed to practically create life. Enamored, you spent hours down there with him, only occasionally falling asleep where you sat due to fatigue. Often times you’d wake up slumped against a table, screwdriver in hand and a blanket tossed over your shoulders. It would take you a couple minutes of wandering the house before you’d find Elijah again and he’d take you back to the lab and continue to help you tinker away. The project took the last of your time with you uncle but you didn’t mind. He was keeping you occupied which was exactly what you wanted, and he only encouraging you to sleep when it seemed you really needed it. You appreciated it.

“Gavin and Nines are pulling up the driveway now,” Elijah told you from the steps of the lab, “I suppose I won’t be seeing you for a while, now will I?”

You turned to look at him, finding him standing on the last step before the lab, “I guess you’re right,” You sighed, a bit melancholy, “No more wasting time with you.”

He nodded, “Come on duckling, before Gavin kicks my door in.”

You set your screwdriver aside and looked down at your little creation, “You think he’s ready?”

Elijah laughed lightly, “He’s been ready since yesterday morning. You just haven’t stopped messing with him. I’m sure everyone will find him delightful, and if all goes well maybe I’ll find some funding for them and we’ll sell them. We could use the money for your wedding.”

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly, “Yeah, like my dumb ass is getting married anytime soon,” You scooped your little creation up and set him in your pocket. You stood and strode over to Elijah, pulling him into a hug, “Thanks for taking care of me Uncle Eli.”

“Anytime, duckling. I’ll miss you,” He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head, “Next thing we’ll do is get you a good pair of heels so you aren’t so short.”

You pulled back and slapped his arm, “I’m not that short.” You started up the steps.

Elijah followed after you, “You’re just barely 5’2”, you’re short.”

You shook your head and began to rush to the front door, causing Elijah to have to chase after you. You seemed to be in an oddly good mood today, but that probably had something to do with your appointment tomorrow and the promise of returning to work. By time the two of you had made it to the living room Gavin and Nines had already been led in by a Chloe who was coming to retrieve you. She smiled and motioned with her head to the two detectives standing behind her. You must’ve caught her off guard though because you swept her up in a hug and she let out a small, startled noise. A laugh escaped you as you set her down again and rushed up to your partners.

“Someone’s happy,” Gavin smirked, reaching out to ruffle your hair, “How was your day kiddo?”

You smiled and breathed out, “It was good. It was really good.”

Nines returned your smile softly, “It seems you were incredibly active today. You must be exhausted. Let’s get you home. We have an early morning tomorrow and then if you’re cleared you’ll return to the precinct with us.”

The instant Nines had said the word “exhausted” it struck you that you hadn’t slept all day, your jittery, excited energy keeping you going, but now it was catching up to you. There was a visible slump in your shoulders as you nodded. Home sounded nice. You gratefully accepted your jacket from a Chloe and thanked her quietly as you pulled it on. Nines wrapped his arm around your shoulders and began leading you out of the house, bidding Elijah a good night. Gavin shook his brother’s hand and kissed Chloe’s cheek before following after you and Nines.

Once you had gotten settled into the car you almost instantly fell asleep to the rumble of the engine. Gavin laughed softly at your sudden tiredness, but let you nap for the time being. He and Nines talked quietly to pass the time on the road, even if it was only about twenty minutes. Everything felt very comfortable, warm, and familiar. Together they had built a family; they had found each other, chose to enjoy one another’s company, and searched for comfort in each other. It was a feeling that warmed each of your hearts.

Gavin was the one to wake you when you arrived home, reminding you that you still had to at least eat dinner before you could go back to sleep. You sighed and moved to get up but Gavin stopped you, scooping you up in his arms instead to carry you inside. Quiet, half-asleep complaints left you but you didn’t try to escape from him. The heavy feeling of fatigue weighed on your shoulders after having such a long day when you were still technically recovering. Nines immediately moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner while Gavin sat down on the couch, turning on a movie to preoccupy you both with, though you didn’t watch so much as just try to steal all of Gavin’s warmth.

Nines gently pried you away from Gavin so you sat on the couch beside him. He then placed bowls of chili in either of your laps and encouraged you both to eat while he cleaned up. Sometimes it felt like Nines did everything around the house, but then you remembered that he was an android and you and Gavin were pretty much useless meat-sacks. When Nines came back to clear your bowls you climbed back into Gavin’s lap and rested your head against his chest. His arms came around you to hold you close.

“Tired?” He asked with a quiet chuckle. You nodded, blinking slowly. “I’m gonna miss our sick little greenie. You’re affectionate like this.”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes, “Shut up.”

Nines came around the couch, leaning down to kiss you head before sitting beside Gavin, “He’s right, you know. These past ten days you’ve snuggled up to us quite willingly and I doubt you will do so when you’re healthy again.”

You grumbled something quietly but were slowly losing the battle to keep your eyes open. The siren song of sleep was attractive and you were more than willing to let it pull you under. You felt Gavin’s hand come up to comb through your hair, aiding in putting you to sleep soundly. It had been three days since you had coughed, whether it be from recovery or the cough suppressant no one could be sure, but they would find out tomorrow morning. With that final thought you fell asleep against Gavin’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and even breaths, and the low grumble of his voice as he whispered to Nines.

___

Nines woke you up early. Stupidly early. Five in the morning early. But your appointment was at six in the hopes of being able to get to work on time. Your doctor had been kind enough to come in early to try and return Detroit’s most recent hero back to the police force. You’d have to get x-rays of your chest again this morning to prove they’re clear and get approval to return to work. Sluggishly, you pulled on your uniform, not feeling like trying to formulate an outfit, and reveled in the feeling of the scratchy material against your skin.

Gavin had laughed when he saw you in your uniform, teasing you about not wanting to dress like a proper detective. You just reminded him that you weren’t technically a detective and he was wearing a t-shirt. Effectively shut down, he grabbed a toaster strudel Nines had set on the counter for him and shoved it in his mouth. Nines prompted both of you to finish breakfast and get in the car, not wanting to be late for your appointment that was before office hours even began. You practically fell off the kitchen stool you were so tired. You pleaded quietly for a cup of coffee, possibly an energy drink, anything to wake you up, but Nines denied your requests and instead led you by the shoulder out to the car.

You slept in the car on the way to the hospital to see your doctor. When you woke up you were sitting in a room, waiting for the doctor to come in. You shot a weak glare at your partners for once again carrying you around like a kid instead of just waking you up, to which they both waved you off. After that, the doctor came in and began your check-up. There were a lot of deep breaths and blood taken before you were led away to get the x-rays done to make sure your lungs were clear. After they were done you just had to wait for them to be developed.

You sat on the bed, leaning against Gavin who sat beside you, “I hate hospitals.”

“Get used to them, kid. Wait until you get shot for the first time,” He chuckled, “They fuck you up with the good stuff and you won’t feel your limbs for days.”

“You say that like I’m gonna get shot. Believe it or not, I’m not as dumb as you,” You scoffed.

Gavin shook his head and huffed, “You don’t know shit, greenie. Officers always get shot when they least expect it.”

“If we do our job properly, Gavin, she won’t get shot,” Nines informed his partner as if it was obvious.

“Hey, Gav?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Don’t move.”

You shifted to lay on the bed, laying with your feet by the pillow and your head in Gavin’s lap. X-rays were only supposed to take a few minutes to process but the blood work was going to take at least an hour if not longer. In the meantime, you were going to sleep, your fatigue still eating at you. A pressed giggle left you as you felt the bed depress further and turned to find Nines now laying on the bed the same way as you and Gavin laying with his head on Nines’ chest. This was dumb. Your partners were dumb. You couldn’t be more thankful for this awkward trio; after a week or so at the precinct you just knew this was the best possible partnership for you. You couldn’t wait to go back to work.

About two hours later, your doctor returned to the room with the results. Gavin practically shoved you off the bed to wake you up and you shot him a glare before greeting the doctor. He seemed to find your antics amusing enough and motioned for you to sit down again so he could cover everything. Nines slapped Gavin upside the head while they settled back into their seats near the wall.

“Everything came back clean,” He announced happily before continuing, “However that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook just yet. While the bacteria is dead you still have a long road to full recovery. I’m taking you off the cough suppressant, so you’ll go back to coughing but you need to so your body can expel what’s left of the mucus in your lungs.” You nodded along, “The fatigue is also going to follow you for a while, along with some chest pain and possibly shortness of breath. I know it’s up to your captain but I highly suggest sticking to desk duty for a while if it’s possible.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” You rolled your eyes, “Especially with those two behind you. They’ll gladly confine me to my desk.”

He chuckled a bit and handed you a new prescription, “I’m also prescribing you an inhaler, just in case something comes up. If anything feels too uncomfortable or painful don’t hesitate to come in and talk to me or one of the nurses. We want to make sure there are no complications, even during recovery.”

You nodded, “I won’t. Quite frankly if Nines even suspects something is off he’s likely to drag me here against my will.”

Your doctor nodded and stood, “A good man, he’s just looking out for you. You’re free to return to work and go about your day. Just make sure to get that inhaler.”

“Will do, and thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day,” He ducked out of the room after that.

You turned to Nines and Gavin with a bright smile, “I get to go back to work!”

“For desk duty only,” Nines reminded you, but you just waved your hand dismissively, “Don’t think for a moment that I’ll be letting you out of my sight any time soon.”

You shrugged and stood, “Any work is better than none. I was going insane back home.”

“We know,” Gavin nodded, “And now you’re going to go insane at the precinct. And I hate to break it to you but I told Fowler you were cleared and he called a press release to clear the air.”

You groaned as Gavin and Nines led you back out to the car. A press release was the absolute last thing you wanted to do when you got back to the precinct. Deep down, you knew it was because no information had come out about the incident at the last one other than you had pneumonia and were staying with family in the meantime. The way back to the precinct from the hospital was eerily familiar and you shifted in your seat. You could only vaguely remember what had happened after the original press release. You knew you had fallen over and Gavin had swept you into his arms, you’ve seen the video after all, but after that things got blurry. You remembered clinging to him, crying and begging to go home, and him sitting in the back of the car with you, but after that it was all gone until you woke up in a bed. Nines had told you that you had fallen asleep, but he hadn’t felt like filling you in on the details of what happened while you were out or how concerned they had been.

When Nines parked, you hesitated to get out of the car. Apparently, you hesitated long enough for Nines to open your door for you and prompt you to get out. You couldn’t help but just stare at the front doors to the precinct. A few news vans were dispersed across the lot, along with plenty of cars with visitor passes that you were sure belonged to the press. An uncomfortable noise rose from your throat and you began to fidget. Gavin had to practically shove you into the precinct; he put his hands on your shoulders to steer you into the press release room where you met with Fowler for the first time in days.

“You’re not going to pass out this time right? You feel fine?” He asked seriously.

You had to hold back the sarcastic comment on the tip of your tongue as you said, “I’m fine now. I may be a bit slow for the next couple of weeks but I’m not about to collapse.”

Fowler nodded, “Good, good.” He pat your arms lightly, “Welcome back, Officer.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

You watched as Fowler took the podium and immediately the room went silent. Camera men could be seen turning on their cameras and mics while reporters opened their notebooks to take notes. With little fanfare, Fowler called the press release to order, laying down ground rules of what this meeting was for and what types of questions may be answered. You listened intently to make sure you didn’t miss anything; the last thing you needed to do was give the reporters information they weren’t supposed to know. He took a few questions before calling you up to the podium and setting a timer for you.

“Officer (L/Name), were you forced to come to work when you were sick?” A reporter shouted above the others.

You shook your head, “No, of course not. I had six sick days left, which I took alongside a few personal days while I recovered.”

“Then why did you come to work?”

You leaned forward to speak slowly and clearly into the mic, trying not to laugh, “Because I am young and dumb.”

That got a good laugh out of everyone in the room before the questions started again, this time with something a little more jarring, “Do you live with Detectives Reed and Nines.”

Your eyes widened and you looked back to when Gavin, Nines, and Fowler stood, all motioning for you not to answer, “That’s not what this press release is about, sorry. I don’t feel comfortable answering that seeing as it is about my private life rather than work related.”

A few suspicious hums rang in the air before someone else asked, “Are you fully recovered?”

“I’m cleared to do desk work,” You answered, “Pneumonia is a persistent illness and while I’m no longer considered sick, I will still have symptoms for a few weeks, mainly fatigue.”

The back and forth went on for twenty minutes before the timer went off. You looked back at Fowler who was motioning for you to turn the mic over to your partners. You did so easily, stepping away from the mic as Gavin took your place while Nines stood lightly off to the side behind him. You went to stand beside Fowler, who nodded his approval. Many reporters tried to pry into the lives of the two detectives, asking about their relationship together and with you as well as living arrangements and android/human relationships. Nines and Gavin deflected all the off-topic questions with practiced ease, only answering questions about the sick policies at the precinct and your general wellbeing as their partner. After the time was up for them, they turned the mic over to Tina and left the room with you in tow.

You were happy to settle yourself on Nines’ desk and he handed you a tablet. He gave you a general rundown of what he wanted you to work on. You didn’t know enough about the most recent cases to help write the reports, but there was plenty of leftover paperwork to do from the incident at the lake that you were more than familiar with. You plunged into the work immediately, typing away happily and quietly. Gavin and Nines discussed the case they were working on, where they would have to go and the warrants they would have to obtain. Hopefully none of their leads were bad. Everything was back to normal, or about as normal as it could get with you coughing.

As per usual, after a few hours of sitting and working you began to fidget, the stillness causing an unsettled feeling in your chest. Nothing you were unfamiliar with, but not a pleasant sensation. You shifted, shoving your hand into your pocket and pulling out your creation. You touched a small power button, then set the small, metal buck on the desk. He roamed calmly, bowing his head as if he was grazing, then looking back up in the direction of any loud sounds. You watched the deer, the anxiety that had been forming in your chest settling away to nothingness.

“Officer, what is that?” Nines asked once he noticed the creature.

“That’s Angus,” You supplied, “Uncle Eli helped me make him. He’s to help calm my anxiety when everything is too still. If he proves affective, we may release a line of small desk creatures for officers and veterans suffering from PTSD to help them.”

“So it’s a robot?” Gavin asked.

You nodded, “Yeah. It’s got an AI in it so it acts like a deer, and if we were to put another buck on the desk, they would knock antlers. He took me three days to program and two days to build, with Elijah’s help of course. But I know a lot more about robotics and androids now than I did a week ago.”

“That’s…very impressive. And he helps your anxiety?”

“He’s a source of calm movement, which really helps when I have to sit still for long amounts of time, because even if I’m working my mind tends to wander to places it shouldn’t.”

Nines and Gavin nodded at your explanation. You went into a little spiel about how you wanted to create a rabbit, a doe, a frog, and a squirrel to go along with Angus, each catering to different types of anxiety. They seemed pretty proud of your little creation, but eventually they had to leave to go to a crime scene. You promised to call Gavin if anything went wrong, and if there was a true emergency to get Connor who was just across the room. When they left you slid off the desk and onto Nines chair, taking your time to review the case they were working on and watching Angus prance around the desk. It was calm. Nice. Everything was back the way it should have been, and you couldn’t have been happier.

End~

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#gavin reed #rk900 #gavin/reader #rk900/reader #gavin/reader/rk900 #dbh #detroit become human #fanfic #fanfiction #platonic #cute #sick fic #no beta we die like men

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