#ive made like three?? edits this month i think which is a step up from forcing myself 2 make one edit per month

[tsumikoz]

idk why I’ve suddenly started liking editing again but who am I 2 complain man

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,��� he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[llogllady99]

Au revoir

CHARACTERS |  Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.” 

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

-

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels  adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

-

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

-

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

-

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

-

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

-

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

-

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

-

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH65

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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-----

Chapter 65: The Queen’s Inheritance (IV)

Amid the dragon’s roar, the temple of cult ceremony began to collapse, but this did not stop the battle between the dragon and the monster. The two creatures in their full forms fought in this temple, and the devastating dragon breath burned around the altar, while the monster’s tentacles clung to the body of the dragon, making it impossible to bite off its tentacles.

The monster summoned by the blood of nearly 100 people couldn't fight Ning Zhou who hadn't shown his magic dragon form yet. However, after the irradiation of that strange eyeball, the monster had evolved strangely, and it had gained the power of the Devil of Power from the empty void, which made it stronger, scarier, and more cruel than before!

Like the magic dragon, it had surpassed the half-field level. Compared to Ning Zhou, who was still suppressing his own strength and avoiding being swallowed up by the origin of destruction, the irrational monster was much more terrible. It indulged itself unscrupulously, as if it were the evil in the world itself.

In the frenzied battle, no one noticed that Qi Leren, unconscious in a pool of blood, was fighting against the bewitching influence.

"Through the evil and filthy world, your soul will reach Utopia.

"There will be no more troubles and disappointments, and your life will be immersed in endless happiness and well-being.

"Demons forget the bloodthirst and desire to kill, human beings forget selfishness and greed, and all life is treated equally in Utopia.

"There will be no more death, because the soul is immortal, and you will have eternal life.

"You will also see your love, in that immortal paradise..."

Qi Leren suddenly woke up.

His body was still numb, but his consciousness woke up.

It seemed to be a whisper or a talking voice, which was still ringing and droning like a set program, but he was awake from the trance-like state.

He had suddenly thought of his lover, who wouldn't be there—a carefree Utopia.

He would only be in hell.

If he hadn’t couldn’t see him and bring him with him, he would have stay here forever, and accept all the torture in the world like self-punishment, until the dead lake water rose over his head. He won't even struggle, just sinks to the bottom quietly.

Qi Leren woke up because he couldn't let Ning Zhou go.

Being paralyzed, he couldn't move, and it was difficult to breathe deeply. Qi Leren choked back the stiff pain, slowly moved his heavy iron hand to his chest, and slowly clenched the item [Prophet's Heart] given to him by the Prophet.

[Prophet’s Heart: A god-level item hand-made by the noble and great Prophet that can make you feel the pleasure of turning into a bird. Holders can summon an archangel to come and fight on their behalf for 3 minutes with a cooling time of 24 hours.]

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster has been heated up, and the eyeball suspended in the air had continuously strengthened the monster’s power, making it quickly recover its damaged limbs, while the magic dragon has gradually liberated his own strength, and had become increasingly violent and crazy dominated by force of destruction. Under the imposing manner of the Destroyer, even such a horrible monster cannot take the upper hand.

The passerby—the initiator of this chaos—had stepped back a little, and retreated to a safe distance.

At this moment, he should be glad he hadn't gotten involved. The strength of this monster itself was about a half-field, and he could cope with it and experience a pleasant battle. However, when the strange eyeball of the master with an unknown field level had begun to interfere with the ceremony, the monster was itself strengthened to a level close to the field level.

Hmm..... Which Devil King was it?

Having entered the Nightmare Game little more than two months ago, the passerby who was confused about the power system and loyalty factions here scratched his hair and prepared to leave after watching the drama.

Although challenging a master made him happy, and he was willing to pay for it with his life, when he came to this world, he found that it was not an end wall but an amazing new world before him. He rekindled the enthusiasm of picking up the tangdao for the first time and couldn't wait to join the new world.

But not now.

The passerby reluctantly glanced at the chaotic scene and left the chaos behind.

The battle between the magic dragon and the monster became more and more fierce, and the temple became a huge colosseum. Under the duel between two monsters like ancient giants, it was as fragile as a sand castle on the beach. The force of destruction flooded Ning Zhou's reason, and the origin’s sin burning in the blood was imprinted in his soul. He suddenly forgot himself, but was immersed in the power of absolute purity and absolute terror. Until...

The twilit light of Heaven appeared in this sinful ceremony.

Qi Leren, who struggled to hold the Prophet's Heart, took a deep breath and activated the item.

In an instant, the power of the Village of Dusk’s holder ran through the boundless space and pierced the blockade of one and a half fields, falling from the sky, dispelling the bewitching power in Qi Leren's mind, and making him wake instantly.

At the same time, the pure power washed away his consciousness. He flew lightly, and his white wings slowly stretched behind him. Behind him was the Kingdom of Heaven reflected in the dusk, flowers, rites and music, angels… Everything was so holy and beautiful and desirable.

In this pure beauty, the demagogic Utopia seemed to be exposed to strong light, revealing its inner ferocious horror. It had never been a pure land on earth, but a world dominated by the Lord of Power. Walking into Utopia was like walking into a hell under high pressure. All of the self was stripped away, leaving only the dead bodies of human beings and demons, and the instructions of the Lord of Power were uniformly executed.

Under the holy light, the gloomy and evil atmosphere in the temple in the lake faded. What was even more amazing was that the dead bodies all over the ground turned into the soil and flowers under the magic of time, and white flowers blossomed from the blood, swaying in the Kingdom of Heaven at dusk like a dream.

The meat monster let out a piercing howl, black blood erupted from its eyes, and the black dragon took this opportunity to maintain its momentum. The flames of destruction erupted from his mouth, burning the struggling monster to ashes.

"...Prophet, what are you doing here again?" In the Village of Dawn, the Lord of Power felt the abnormality in the ceremony and sighed faintly. With her sigh, the huge eyeball suspended over the ceremony, watching everything, slowly rotated and made a sound.

The holy angel who smiled in the clean white flowers stared at her: "Little girl, your hand stretched too far."

The voice was the voice of Qi Leren, but the speaker was not him, but the Prophet in the underground ice palace in the Village of Dusk. Through Qi Leren's body, he warned the Devil of Power who was observing here and tried to intervene.

"Has it? I don't think so. But since you’ve spoken to me in person, let's call it a day. I have another thing left with you, and I will ask for it when I have time." From the huge eyeball, a buzzing inhuman sound echoed in this building.

"I'm waiting for you," said the holy angel.

The eyeball in the void disappeared, and the consciousness attached to Qi Leren left. Before leaving, he said one sentence to him: "The Illusionist is in the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace, and my letter is on the way, so I’ll ask this of you and Ning Zhou."

The Prophet's consciousness dissipated, and Qi Leren was still standing on the ground, with white flowers under his feet. The mechanical clock behind him had not finished three turns, so this power that did not belong to him had not disappeared.

He looked up at the magic dragon standing on the altar, and the magic dragon also stared at him. There was no dried blood on his body and claws, no evidence of his fight against evil and his downfall.

There was a lonely longing in the dragon’s eyes, and it was like a gentle sadness.

Ning Zhou understood his own destiny. Just like every powerful person, the process of becoming stronger was the process of constantly moving closer to his own original force. One day, he would forget himself, his love, how much he loved the world, and indulge himself and destroy everything under the influence of this original force.

No matter how hard he tried to restrain himself and convince himself to persist for the person he loves, he couldn’t deceive his own strength. When he had fought with the monster, he had clearly felt that he was falling. This kind of degradation was a kind of pleasure, and he didn't need to make any effort. As long as he emptied his brain, the strength in his blood would emerge continuously, making him stronger and destroying his enemies.

But when the pool of blood turned into a sea of flowers, and his lover stood in front of him in the form of an angel and looked at him, he felt sincere shame and fear for his weak compromise to strength.

He was afraid that one day he would hurt Qi Leren and the world.

"Ning Zhou." Qi Leren went up the stairs and came to the dragon.

Compared to the huge body of the dragon, he was like a pocket-sized toy. If the dragon's foot even patted him gently, he would be crushed into a pile of meat. This size gap even scared Qi Leren, but he still wanted to believe that he wouldn't hurt him, insisting that the black dragon in front of him is still Ning Zhou.

The dragon closed its eyes, lowered its head slowly, and put it in front of him.

Just like it did in the lake of fire in Purgatory.

It was willing to bow to its beloved and let him comfort its body and soul with his hands.

"It's all right, it's all right..." Qi Leren murmured. The power borrowed from the Prophet had expired, the reflection of Heaven disappeared, his wings disappeared, and so did the intoxicating power. But his calming power still affected the dragon.

So the dragon gradually calmed down, and the force of destruction receded from his body, and he changed from magic dragon to human.

Qi Leren took his hand and looked at him, but his blue eyes that had always been firm avoided his sight.

This was an obviously weak and hesitant attitude, and Qi Leren certainly knew what it’s cause was. Because Ning Zhou had gotten stuck in that dead end again, the dead end that he almost killed himself because of.

He still couldn't accept a self who was a Devil, and was constantly sinking. Even if he was just doing justice as a Devil, it still caused him pain. Because at the end of this road to power, he was destined to become lost like every powerful person.

This was not something that the human will could contend with.

Qi Leren's heart was full of love that he didn’t know how to express, so he stood on tiptoe and left a comforting kiss on Ning Zhou's lips, tender and touching.

He was willing to burn himself with all his strength, as long as he could make Ning Zhou on the edge of hell feel the warmth of the world.

"I once told you, but now I have to say it again: your force has nothing to do with good and evil, and you have never fallen." Qi Leren clasped Ning Zhou's hand and repeated this sentence again.

Ning Zhou slowly rested his forehead against Qi Leren’s, relaxed his stiff body, and closed his eyes.

He wanted to hold this person tight, because this was his last salvation in the world.

-----

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[burnedbyshoto]

Under the Mistletoe

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warning: smut, cursing, fluff

word count: 8,467

a/n: I didn’t want to edit this last night so lmao... sorry!!!!! anyways, this is super cute and yall should like.....read it :D

Synopsis: The mistletoe tradition is known by all, and if used correctly it can end in a sweet moment. Too bad Todoroki Shouto believes that people fuck under the mistletoe and not kiss under it.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“So you’re telling me that when two people meet under a mistletoe they have to...” Shouto trails off as he looks at the green plant nestled in between his fingers. “They have to—”

“They have to fuck, yes,” Kaminari nods his head. 

His arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes closed as he nods. His words, of course, are a flat out lie, but to Todoroki Shouto it seems as if his friend is speaking the truth. “It’s why it was never put up during our Christmas celebrations at school! With some of you guys not turning eighteen until after Christmas and all. That could have turned out to be child porn or something!”

“I haven’t had sex though,” Shouto huffs as he throws the mistletoe towards the blond who yells as it hits his head. “I don’t think I want to be caught underneath it. Didn’t Mineta wear a hat with it attached to it last week though?”

“Yeah, but that’s the only way Mineta can get girls, plus didn’t you see how the girls avoided him like the plague?” Sero pipes in, a large grin on his face as he takes the mistletoe and throws it above Kaminari’s head.

Shouto, however, sees this as a substantial poof.

“Bro, are you telling me you wanna fuck?” Kaminari winks as he looks up at the mistletoe.

“No, I just don’t think you’ll ever get to smash without this either!” Sero laughs as Kaminari slaps the mistletoe from Sero’s grasp.

“Would you fucking bastards GET OFF YOUR ASSES and come fucking help out?!” Bakugou roars as he enters the living room where the three men were sitting around.

Shouto stands up first, his eyes looking at the mistletoe that lays innocently on the floor. White people were pretty weird for starting that tradition.

Of course, it wasn’t to say that Shouto didn’t want to meet anyone under the mistletoe! Had it been a tradition where he would get to kiss someone it would be different, but fucking? Having sex only because you were caught under a plant was a bit too much.

“Todoroki-kun, are you okay?” Midoriya asked as he walked while hold two tables to put up for the dinner. The boys of the since graduated class 1-A were in charge of hosting the first annual Christmas party. Of course on because Iida volunteered them all.

Shouto nodded his head as he smiled strained, “I’m going to be avoiding the mistletoe all night.”

Midoriya looked at the fallen plant as he quirked an eyebrow, “Really? I thought it could be a great idea to get— mmph?!”

Shouto’s eyes widened as he saw Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima covering the One for All user’s mouth. They began dragging him away, their mouths at his ear as they whispered at him.

“Todoroki-kun, Kirishima-kun!” Iida yelled as he brisked over with red cloth in his hands, “I need your help in spreading snow out in front of the house! It hasn’t snowed enough yet!”

“Iida, what do you think about mistletoe?” Shouto asks as Kirishima jogs over to them.

“It’s a weird tradition,” Iida admits as he rubs the back of his neck. “But there’s too much to do, and the girls will be here within an hour!”

“Don’t worry bro,” Kirishima laughs as he slings an arm around Shouto’s shoulder. “Just avoid the mistletoe! Unless... you want us to send y/l/n-chan your way!”

Shouto couldn’t hide the flush the built on his cheeks at those words. The joyous laughter of Kirishima’s teasing didn’t help either.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Shouto stared at himself in the mirror.

Iida had insisted on formal wear tonight. He believed their first Christmas celebration outside of U.A. was a cause to ditch the Santa gear. It was definitely weird celebrating Christmas with his friends and not wearing the Santa suits.

But Shouto chose a dark navy blue suit, a white button-up, and a slim black tie. His fingers buttoned one of the buttons on his jacket before putting in silver cuff links. He was ready.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Shouto placed his clothes into the designated room. It seemed, however, that he was the last one ready as everyone else was sitting at the grand table. It had been beautifully prepared by Sato and Tokoyami. The aroma of the cooking food filled the air causing Shouto to sigh, he was quite hungry.

“Bakugou, where’s the mistletoe?” Shouto asked his ash-blond friend who was walking around with his hands shoved into his pockets. Shouto watched as Bakugou groaned as he whipped around towards him.

“What makes you think I would fucking know, hah?” Bakugou grunts as he rolls his eyes. “It’s hidden for a goddamn reason, you’re not supposed to know!”

“Would you help me look for it?” Shouto asks as he rubs the back of his neck.

“HAH?! Why the hell would I look for it with YOU, half and half bastard?! Are you trying to—?” Bakugou’s mouth was then taped shut. Shouto watched on in confusion as the ash blond’s attention was stolen by Sero; who was now running away in his white tux from the storming blond.

“Why aren’t they just being bizarre!” Aoyama dramatized from Shouto’s left. Glancing over, Shouto chuckled at his friend dressed in a literal suit of armor that was blinding to the eye. “Now, are you confessing your feelings to Mademoiselle y/n? Christmas is the most romantic time to do so!”

Before Shouto could speak to the smirking blond, Iida bursts into the dining area with coats in his arms.

“The ladies have arrived!” He announced.

Shouto watched as six girls entered the room talking amongst themselves.

They all wore Christmas appropriate formal dresses, and yet his heart fell as he was quick to see that you weren’t there.

Where were you?

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“I know I’m very late!” You exclaim into your phone as you struggle to shove the dark red evening dress over your body.

You weren’t supposed to have stayed as late at work as you did.

Missing the bullet train back to your apartment, you had completely missed the preparation for the party. Lucky for you, your neighbor had a useful quirk that let him do makeup and hair in ten minutes. So after offering him your soul (a promised meeting from his favorite Pro Hero Froppy), he agreed to do it.

The formal wear, however, was a bit too much in your opinion.

One month ago Iida had sent out appropriate outfits to gather ideas of what to wear for today. To put it simply he wanted a full-blown ball gown for a party for twenty-one of you.

So there you sat in your room, pulling the dark red dress into place. It had a semi sweetheart neckline, the bodice was made of soft velvet, and the skirt was multiple layers of red lace. Overall it was cute and simple. Slipping on your white heels you grabbed your coat and presents for your friends. Placing your phone to your ear you raced out to where the taxi was waiting for you.

“Iida won’t let anyone eat until you’re here! And I’m positive Bakugou is going to kill Midoriya out of a hangry fit if you don’t get here quick!” Mina once again tells you as you give the taxi driver the address.

“It’s not my fault villains decided to be villains where I work! Had it been my decision I would’ve been there with you guys! Plus it’s starting to snow,” you sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Tell Iida you guys can start eating, I’m not offended!”

“Girl, I told him that one hour ago, and again right before I called. Trust me, we’re not touching the food until you’re here!”

“Wow, you didn’t even want to wait for me?” You tease as you watch as the taxi drives into familiar areas.

“You know I’m teasing, besides loverboy here won’t let anyone eat until you get here too~!” Mina giggles in her sing-song tone.

“Don’t call Shouto that!” You groan as you try to calm your flaring cheeks. “We’re friends!”

“Friends who have the sexual tension that brings god to her knees! And the romantic chemistry that makes the cutest couple tremble in jealousy!” Mina exclaims. “Don’t worry, we saved you the seat right between him and me!”

“Mina!”

“Oh, gotta go! Bakugou AND your precious Shouto~ are demanding an update, see ya soon cutie!”

“Mina—”

The line went dead as you puffed out your cheeks.

Sometimes Mina was too slippery for her own good.

The rest of the taxi drive was quiet. Your taxi driver most likely wanting to get you out as soon as possible to go home themselves. Your eyes focused down at your cellphone that was getting text messages demanding your location.

Most of which was spam from Kaminari and Uraraka who seemed to be the most starving. Sighing, you shared your location with the class’s group chat for the next twenty-four hours. So they could track you for the next few minutes it would take for you to get there.

kaminari: i dont think ive ever been this excited to see y/n in my life… ever… and im 98% sure i had a crush on her 0.0

you: omg i told you guys you could EAT stop HARASSING ME

sero: tru lets blame iida

iida: You all would have been very upset had we eaten without you! Besides, this is our family so we have to wait, it’s only polite. - Iida Tenya

mina: …

you: …

midoriya: …

kirishima: i thought someone ingrained it into iida that he doesnt have to text… like that…

momo: I believe it is okay, Iida-san! It is confusing to know who’s texting on this chat! Sincerly, Yaoyorozu Momo

bakugou: hurry the FUCK UP Y/N

you: id rather die

“We’re here,” the driver sighs as they turn around. “That’ll be 2,000 yen.”

You smile in gratefulness as you pull out two 2,000 yen. “It’s a tip for working on a holiday, thank you!”

“Happy holidays.”

“To you as well!”

You stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. Your eyes fluttering as you watch the snow fall in front of you. A shiver runs through your spine as you pull your coat tighter around yourself. Holding the presents closer to you, you walk down to the front door. You take notice of the heaps of snow in front of the lawn and grin. Although you had no evidence, you bet Iida made Shouto and Kirishima create snow unknowing that it was going to snow this much.

Opening the grand door, warmth and the waft of cooking food invaded your senses. Removing your coat, you heard chairs scraping against the floor as a small mob of people raced to greet you.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Season greetings!”

“I’m so fucking hungry, thank Santa you’re here!”

“Move bitches I get the first hug!”

“Let me grab her coat first!”

It had been a while since you had last seen everyone. But in this moshpit of who you would consider being among your best friends, it warmed your heart. “Thank you, Iida,” you smile as he nodded in response.

“You followed the guidelines quite well, you look great!” Iida compliments as he turns to put your coat away.

“Of course she looks great, we all went out together to a dress shop!” Jirou sighs as she pulls you into a hug.

You greeted everyone, hugging them all as you went until you finally found the one person you wanted to see. His hair styled slicked back and his hands rested in his pockets as he smiled at you. Your face felt like it was heating up as you stepped closer to him.

“Merry Christmas, Shouto,” you smile as the dual-colored man smiles at you. You pull him into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” he mumbles into your hair. “I’ll take those from you?” Shouto offers as he grabs the bag with the presents.

“Thank you,” you say letting go of the bag.

Shouto nodded as he turns on his heel to put the presents away.

“TIME TO EAT!” Kirishima and Kaminari roar as everyone starts making their way back to the dining table.

“Just to let you know, there is a mistletoe somewhere here, in case you want to make a move,” Mina whispers in your ear.

Oh, this dinner seemed like it was going to get increasingly harder to stay composed.

xxx

“It’s present opening time!” Iida exclaims as he ushers the class into the living room where the tree and presents resided. “Please have a seat, Yaomomo and I have organized the different piles for everyone! Until you have been seated will you receive your pile!”

You were talking with Tsuyu as you entered the living room. Your eyes shining as you took in a beautifully decorated living room.

“You boys did an amazing job at decorating!” You exclaim as you grin, the night had been going perfectly so far.

Dinner had been lively and hilarious. Old banter and topics bleed into the night’s conversation made your heart ache for the old days. It seemed so long ago when you spent every day for three years with these guys. You missed it.

With Mina at your left who discussed her new fighting style. Shouto at your right who talked about his life at home. His family had finally was becoming something he loved completely. While you two had late night discussions talking about it no one else knew about it. It was invigorating to see Shouto grin and laugh in conversations. His old dense self was still ingrained in him yet he’s grown so much since his fifteenth year. You were proud of him.

You watched as Tsuyu took a seat on the couch, her eyes trained on you as she spoke. You moved to sit next to her until something shoved you to the side.

“Oh, that’s my seat!” Mina exclaimed as she sat next to Tsuyu, her smile large as your eyebrow rose. “There’s more, don’t worry!”

You turned around and saw a seat near Midoriya who was near Tsuyu. It seemed you could continue your conversation about her position as a Hero Commander. Midoriya would like that conversation as well.

“That’s my spot!” Uraraka shouts as you were about to sit down. You sighed as you stood back up, your eyes raking the couches for a place to sit.

“There’s a spot by Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya said pointing at Shouto. Shouto was sitting on a seat that was a bit too large for one person, but too small for two.

“Thanks,” you smile as you walk over to Shouto. “You mind if I squeeze in next to you?”

Shouto looks at you, his eyes intense as he shakes his head, “No, go ahead and sit.”

You sat at his left with a grin. Your body pressing into his left arm as he concentrated on Iida, and with a nudge, you captured his attention. “I hope you like the gift I bought for you,” you whisper as Iida begins handing out the piles of gifts to each person. Ojiro helping as they were big.

“I don’t think I could hate anything you could give me,” Shouto whispers back as he grabs his pile from Iida.

“Random panties I find on patrol?”

“I’d be honored you thought of me.”

“That’s so gross, Shouto,” you laugh as you take your own pile from Ojiro.

“You’re the one touching random panties from the streets of Japan!” Shouto retorts as he helps you settle your pile onto the floor.

“Touche, Shouto,” you grin as you shove him with your shoulder, “touche.”

“Because it is Uraraka-kun’s birthday coming up, she should go first!” Iida suggests and everyone agrees.

“Oh, I need to tell you something,” Shouto whispers as you cheer on Uraraka who is lifting a gift over her head.

“What is it?” You ask turning your head towards him.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispers before focusing back in onto Uraraka. She lifts out multiple bags of strawberry mochi with a triumphant scream.

“You look handsome tonight, too.”

It doesn’t take long before presents are being opened and you’re feeling content pressed into Shouto’s side.

From Aoyama, you got a crystal mirror that sparkled in the light. The poem about the North Star engraved into the back of the mirror.

From Mina, you got workout clothes specific to a dance class you and the girls were planning on attending together. They were in your favorite color and came with a jacket with your name stitched into it.

From Tsuyu, you got a plushie. It was of your favorite animal and held lots of tiny little snacks that you could carry during a patrol.

From Iida, he presented you with a pair of exercise shoes you had been needing for a while. After all, sparring with Bakugou and Midoriya left your old ones disintegrated.

From Uraraka, she bought you a charm bracelet that had two charms on it already. One of the U.A. building and another of a small group of girls.

Ojiro gave you got a new winter coat. It was white, waterproof and insulated. Your jaw on the ground as you tried it on because it made you look like a marshmallow and you adored that.

Kaminari gave you got his mixtape. On the cassette were a bunch of Kaminari originals he had been promising you for years now, and now you had a copy. That and a gift card to your favorite restaurant.

Kirishima gave you a new ankle and wrist weights. Something to help with your manly journey to becoming the best hero!

Koda bashfully announced that you were getting an all-inclusive trip to an animal and tea shop. Something he gifted everyone in the class, and an event you girls were quick to plan.

Sato gave you a free pass to let him bake you anything you wanted. Another gift given to all the girls, and another gift you girls were excited to use.

Shoji had gifted you a massage gun. Something you had enveloped him in a hug for minutes afterward because it was something you had been meaning to buy.

Jirou’s gift was in a white envelope, two VIP tickets to your favorite band. A very discounted item because her parents knew them and the fact that she was a Pro Hero too.

Sero’s gift was something that made you laugh, it was a high-quality blanket. Soft to the touch, with the ability to keep you warm in a blizzard! It had a class picture printed on it photoshopped with Kaminari’s wheey face onto everyone’s picture.

Tokoyami gave you a picture album with the class’s best memories. It also had many more blank pages for your own pictures.

Hagakure bought you a new set of makeup and brushes. Brushes that you had been eyeing the time you two had gone shopping together too!

Bakugou bought you a new outfit. It was definitely an outfit for warmer weather, and he got annoyed when you went to hug him.

Midoriya made you a present. It was two notebooks full of analysis and suggestions that you had asked for when sparring. You wanted to continue improving and Midoriya was definitely going to help you.

Mineta bought you a gift card to use at a local lingerie store. On the one hand, it had a lot of money on it, on the other hand, you wanted to destroy it.

Momo blushed as she stood up, her grin wide as she looked at everyone. She apologized about being able to properly buy everyone an honest gift as she had been busy these past few months. Nut she promised she made up for it. She had paid off everyone’s apartment/house rent or price. Or in Iida’s and Shouto’s case their groceries for four months.

“This is for you,” Shouto whispered as he handed you a thin rectangular box. “I didn’t want it getting smashed so, I held onto it. I didn’t forget to give you a gift.”

Your eyes focused on the gift that was wrapped in red and silver wrapping paper. Your fingers gently taking it from him as you nodded. Shouto had been giving everyone else gifts with things that reminded him of them. It had some of the most hilarious items to date. But the box told you nothing, no hint, no clue. The attention of the group was on Aoyama who was modeling the new outfits that were gifted to him.

His eyes bore into you as you opened the gift, your eyes widening as you opened the box. “Shouto…” you trailed off as you looked down at the simple yet gorgeous necklace that lay in the box. It had a single diamond on it, yet you knew that it was more expensive than anything you’ve ever bought in your life. “W-What?”

Shouto remained silent as he gently pulled the necklace from the box, he asked you wordlessly to turn around so that he could place it on you. You complied as you shifted in the seat.

“I promise I looked everywhere else for you before choosing this!” Shouto admits as his warm fingers push your hair to the side. The cold chain presses into your skin as you look down at the jewel. “But no matter what I looked at, this was the only thing I liked for you. So, no, I don’t regret or worry about buying you this because I know it was meant to be yours.” His breath teased your exposed skin and it took everything within you not to melt as he fixed your hair.

Not knowing how to thank him, you pulled him into a tight hug, your arms holding him near as he returned the hug. Your lips pressed gently against his cheek, “Thank you, Shouto.”

You pull away and look back to your friends who were still focused on Aoyama who did a spin. Your fingers grazed the shiny jewel, and you lay your head against his shoulder as you consume the fashion show laid out for you.

Xxx

“You’re confessing to him, right?!” Mina hisses as the girls called an impromptu meeting seconds before you were "about to kiss Shouto" on the couch.

“Mina-san, she was about to kiss Todoroki-san right before you ripped her from his grasp!” Momo sighed as gave you an apologetic smile.

“Y/n has liked him since high school! Her first kiss with Todoroki-kun is not going to be while Bakugou is modeling his clothes!” Hagakure defended Mina as she crossed her arms.

“First off, I was not going to kiss him,” you defend yourself as you point a sweeping finger at your friends. “I was going in to get lint in his hair!”

“There wasn’t lint in his hair,” Tsuyu chimed in to which everyone agreed.

“Leave her alone!" Jirou waves her hands, to which you thank her. "She was going to take the lint out with her teeth! To show him what that mouth do!”

Jirou snorts as you shove her.

“Do you see that rock on her neck?! You know she’s not gonna show him only what that mouth do, but also what her—!” Uraraka snickers as she was interrupted by the kitchen door opening.

“Y/n?” Shouto asks, his eyes wide as he sees that you’re flustered and pointing your fingers at them all. “Um… I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Right now?” You squeak as you smooth over your dress. “Of course right now, um, yes let’s go!” You declare, glaring at your friends as you walk towards Shouto. Grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the kitchen the door closing behind you.

“They put up the mistletoe outside right?” Momo whispers as she looks at Jirou who gives a thumbs up.

“Yes, Kaminari said they convinced Todoroki to talk with y/n outside.”

“Does… does Todoroki-kun even know what to do under the mistletoe?” Uraraka asks as she realizes her sheltered friend was still learning new things to this day.

“The boys must’ve explained it to him,” Hagakure insists as she nods. “You can’t fuck up explaining that you kiss someone under the mistletoe. Besides, they want them to get together too!”

Xxx

“Fuck, it’s cold,” you shiver as you wrap your jacket around you.

“Sorry,” Shouto apologizes as he grabs your hands in his. Heat immediately spreads through your skin. He was warming you up, the cold winter air is ignorable, as you and Shouto walk towards the edge of the porch. “There wasn’t any room in there that was private enough, and I needed to talk to you about something important.”

“Oof, don’t tell me you meant to give this necklace to some other girl named y/n,” you tease as you rest your back against the snow-covered railings. “If so, I’m going to need to fight both you and her for it.”

“No, no,” Shouto chuckles as his thumb rubs smooth circles into your skin. “But it is about the necklace.”

You nod your head as you squeeze his hand reassuringly, “What about it?”

“It’s not… too forward is it?” Shouto asks as he takes his right hand to brush your hair from your face. “If you think it’s too much I can take you to return it for something else you’d like.”

The worry and concern that are heavily etched into his face make you laugh softly as you shake your head. “Even though I can’t give you something as great in return, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

“What do you mean? I liked your gift.”

“Shouto, it was a two paid in full all you can eat meals at that soba joint you love, of course, you were going to like it!” You tease as you think back to the hole in the wall you had introduced Shouto to a few months ago.

“Yes, I have to starve for a week to make the most of your gift,” he teases and you snort as you shove him. Your eyes roll as you focus your attention back onto him.

Wait, what was that?

Your eyes flew back up to the ceiling as you saw the powdered with snow mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Your jaw dropped as your heart rate spiked. The hands that were in Shouto’s felt sweaty as you ripped your hands from his.

“What’s wrong?” Shouto asks as he follows your gaze up to the ceiling.

“Mistletoe,” you breathe as your eyes widen. This screamed like a setup to you, but how could the girls know the two of you would have made your way out here?!

“Oh.” Shouto’s voice nearly squeaked.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Shouto whispers, his cheeks glowing in embarrassment or from the cold, you had no idea at this point. “If you’re okay with it, um... I’ve never done this before.”

You lick your lips in anticipation and the feeling that Shouto wants to kiss you back. Your heart hammers in your ears as you smile. “It’s okay, I have,” you laugh gently.

“... you have?”

“Yeah!”

“O-oh…”

“It’s okay, it’s something I try not to remember,” you input as you shake your hands. His disappointed, flustered, and jealous aura screaming at you as you cup his cheeks. “You’re the one I wanted to meet under the mistletoe anyways.”

His hands slip through your jacket, holding your waist in his grasp as he lets out a shaky breath. Shouto’s eyes rise to lock on yours finally, and you nod at him.

“Wait you want to do this outside?” Shouto whispers as you near him.

“You’re supposed to do it under the mistletoe,” you mumble as your lips connect with his. Your lips end all arguments that he has as Shouto stills.

The kiss was slow, your eyes closed as you gently coaxed his stiff lips to move with yours. Shouto moved with you smoothly, the kiss gently growing in passion as he pulled you in closer. The kiss burns you as your lips languidly move against each other. Your hands moving from his cheeks to tangling into his gelled hair.

It was perfect, and you found yourself pulling away, ready to confess your feelings for him. But Shouto didn’t seem to be on the same page as his lips pressed against your throat. The feeling of his heated and soft lips against your colder skin made you suck in a sharp breath of air. Your head tilting backward as he peppered clumsy yet attentive kisses against your skin.

“S-Shouto,” you moaned as your fingers grabbed onto the collar of his jacket. This wasn’t what you were expecting from him. Nor was it something you believed to come from a visit under the mistletoe. Your peaked breaths soon calmed, they smoothed into soft and shaky moans as his teeth teased your sensitive skin.

Shudders flew through your body as his tongue caressed your skin. your mind was sinking into a sinking pit that is until he trailed his tongue to the cleavage of your breasts.

“Shouto!” You squeak as you shove his jaw up, his eyes locking on yours confused and drowning with lust.

“What’s wrong, love?” Shouto asks as a strand of hair falls into his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Is this how you meet everyone under the mistletoe?” You pant as your mind is racing too many thoughts a second, you can’t keep up as there is a heat building in you. A heat that begged you to get over your shyness and just let him kiss you in such a lewd way. But this wasn’t Shouto, it couldn’t be.

“I’ve never been under a mistletoe before,” Shouto mumbles as his lips press together. In this brief hesitation, it seems that he remembers something. “Who have you… met under the mistletoe…”

Your face warms as you sigh, it wasn’t a memory you much enjoyed.

“It was Bakugou, but only because the damn store owners were so insistent on it!”

This confession made Shouto still. His eyes turning a near black with emotions you hadn’t seen on his face in quite a while.

“Shouto? Are you okay--mmph?!”

His lips were back over yours immediately. His bruised lips fervently danced against yours as he held his right hand to the back of your neck and the other firmly onto the small of your back. His kiss was demanding, sultry, and overwhelming.

Your questions of his emotions out of your mind as your ass hit the porch railing. The cold snow burning through your dress made you cry out, and Shouto’s tongue presses into your mouth. Your back arches as his left-hand leaves your body. It slams against the railing and the snow melts, and the tongue in your mouth warms you as you shudder in his hold.

Not wanting to be manipulated like this, you ignore how your body feels like it’s melting in his hold. Your mouth suckles onto his tongue. Your hands fist into his hair, making him moan into your mouth as you tug on it sharply.

You can feel the falling snow hitting your cheeks, but your body temperature has spiked so high that it melts before it can make complete contact.

Ripping your mouth from his, your lips trail down his neck, nipping and sucking hickies onto his pale skin. The harsh pants that escaped his mouth and the shaking of his form further incited you as your painted lips met the collar of his shirt.

“Should we go back to my place?” You ask as you pull away, your hands fisting around his tie as you look into his lust-fueled eyes.

“I thought you said we had to do it under the mistletoe?” Shouto questions, his upper lip in almost a sneer as he uses your hands to loosen his tie. Your eyes widened as he stripped off his jacket. He placed it onto the railing that was turning the snow into steam whenever it made contact. “Did you take Bakugou home after finding yourself under the mistletoe with him?”

The words were a near snarl, his eyes angry, his face jealous.

Some part of you wanted to utilize this. You wanted to use this surplus of emotion Shouto was emitting to get him to fuck you against this railing. Another part of you, a louder part of you, demanded to know what was wrong.

“Why would I bring Bakugou home?” You ask as you take Shouto’s flushed cheeks in your hands. “It’s mistletoe, not a porno.”

Shouto blinks once, twice, thrice.

“W-What?”

“Mistletoe, not porno,” you repeat confused. “Shouto, you’re supposed to kiss under the mistletoe.”

It’s then that Shouto’s body freezes. His eyes widening as he stares at you.

His face flushed, lips were swollen from kissing, and hair messy.

“You’re… you’re not supposed to fuck?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he shakes his head.

The small sentence causes your heart to beat wildly as you stare at him, your hands moving from his cheeks to your mouth. “NO!” You squeak as Shouto takes a step back from you, his head dropping.

Coldness envelopes you as Shouto nods his head, “I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, y/n. I… I should go.”

You watch as Shouto turns on his heel, his back stiff as he walks towards the door.

Everything in you screams at you to make him stop, pleading that you pull him back and say you’ll still fuck him. The kissing itself had ignited a fire within you. And there was nothing else you wanted but Shouto to subside the need and desire that had built within you.

“I like you,” you reel as you find yourself taking several steps forward as Shouto’s hand touches the door handle. “I have feelings for you, and when I found out that I could kiss you tonight I took the chance! I know you might be feeling a whole bunch of different emotions that I can’t list. But I want to let you know that I wasn’t letting you do that because of the mistletoe, Shouto! I genuinely really like you and I was going to let you fuck me against the porch railing I was that ready.”

Shouto is frozen at the door, his back tense as his hand drops. You watch in what feels like slow motion as he turns around, his eyes locking on yours. It clicks, his confession is silent as he walks back towards you.

The world has gone silent as Shouto cuts the distance between the two of you before you could react. His mouth pressing against yours as you’re sent walking backward. Your hands grasping his biceps as you’re pressed against a familiar railing.

“I like you,” Shouto gasps against your lips. “Fuck, y/n, I like you so much.”

You don’t answer him as you instead sink your teeth into his lower lip, a groan leaving his mouth as you pull away. His eyes flash dangerously, something new stirring within him as your lips come crashing together again. In a tangle of lips and tongue, his hands leave your waist and grab your ass through the fabric of the dress. The cold is ignorable and the jacket around you is making you sweat as you moan into the kiss.

The melodious sound escaping your mouth stirs Shouto on and his leg slips between your thighs as you arch into him. His leg presses indescribably into your crotch, so you do what you must and grind your hips against his leg.

The grip on your ass tightens as Shouto begins to guide your hips into wide circles against his leg. The grinding pleasures you. The slowly building pressure overwhelming you as you whine against his mouth. His name escapes your mouth like a prayer, soft and hopeful as your mouth suckles against his tongue.

“It’s too hot,” you whimper as you pull away, Shouto trying to follow you with his mouth as you tilt your head. His wandering lips press against your neck and you sigh as you shift to take off the jacket.

“You’re going to get sick,” Shouto warns. His hands leave your rotating ass as he tries to slip the coat back over your shoulders.

Taking his hands and instead press them onto your breasts. As his eyes shifted to your breasts, you dropped your coat to the floor and you stare at him with a growing smirk. “Then you better fuck the cold away.”

His eyes take you in and he slowly nods, his hands groping your breasts as he growls in response, “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Big words for a virgin,” you moan as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Those are fighting words for someone who’s at my mercy,” Shouto snaps as he pinches your side.

A pained moan escapes your lips as Shouto’s teeth sink back onto your neck. His tongue then lashing out to smooth the wound that was left in its place. He continues to mark your neck as your gasping praises and grinding hips gives him the confidence to continue. His touch is intoxicating and you find yourself whining for more, begging that he do more. Finally, with a deep chuckle, Shouto pulls away from your neck, his lips red and raw.

His eyes trace your body as his hand’s trail from your breasts back onto your ass. Your eyes widen as he picks you up as if you weigh nothing, his hands massaging your flesh as he places you onto the rail. A low sigh escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm wood underneath you.

Your chest heaves with your quickening breathing as you see that this position gives Shouto the perfect entrance to fuck you out here.

There wasn’t much you could do outside. With snow blanketing the world, your friends indoor, and both you and Shouto craving the other there was only so much you could do. Fully expecting Shouto to start unbuckling his pants, your eyes shot open as he lifted the skirt of your dress. His heated fingers trailing up your cool flesh.

Trembling you watched as his fingers reached your panties. His finger stroking your folds as your hands held tightly onto his shoulder. Your pussy aches for more. Your panties soaked from the thigh riding and the being so overwhelmed with emotions for Shouto.

You can do nothing as you feel your panties being peeled from your skin. The soft fabric trailing down your legs and you watch as Shouto looks at them before pocketing them. A smirk overcomes his facial features as you watch him. He takes your wrists in his right hand and moves them behind your back. Your eyes widen as a familiar sound hits your ears.

“I might be a virgin, but I’m not a prude,” he whispers into your ear as cold ice encloses your wrists. “You have only a few minutes to get yourself to cum against my fingers, or else… well, I don’t want to find out.”

Unintentionally, you whimper in both pleasure and pain as the coldness seeps through your skin and your pussy throbs at the threat. Should you heed his command or make him recant. As you contemplate that, you rub your legs together. The slickness of your essence much more noticeable without the fabric in place, and you moan.

Shouto smirks as he looks at your moving legs, and he takes his left hand to trace your inner thigh, teasingly, barely touching your skin. Your eyes flutter as they brush against your slit right before he plunges two fingers into your wet heat. Cursing his name, your walls tremble against him as you press your forehead onto his shoulder. His fingers are warm, but your heat is even warmer.

“Is something wrong?” He feigns innocence as his fingers curl against your wall. They circle within your cunt as you whimper lewdly.

“N-No!” You stammer. The freezing sensation of the ice is almost ignorable with his fingers beginning to push within you. He nods as he begins to move his fingers slowly. Your body squirms in his hold as he increases his speed. Soon his fingers pump within you at unimaginable speeds, your head throwing backward at the pleasure. Your hips find themselves bucking against his fingers as you mewl.

The ice begins to burn as his thumb brushes against your clit.

Your eyes clench close as you surge forward. Your lips pressing against his as you attempt to stop your loud moans. Shouto swallows your moans as he continues to pound his fingers in you. A third one soon entering as his thumb flicks against your clit.

So close, you’re so fucking close.

You can feel the pressure building in you, the coil tightening as you cry out his name, pleading for him to make you cum. Shouto muses at your desperation but does not relieve you of your desires as his fingers leave your cunt. You cry at the expulsion, your pussy craving for him to reenter your needy cunt.

Instead, your wrists are set free from their icy cage. Your skin feels like its burning as Shouto places his fingers into his mouth. He's licking your essence off his skin and you whine at the visual.

“I decided that I want you to come around my cock instead,” Shouto chuckles as you glare at him.

“You’re a dick,” you whine as you watch as Shouto loosens his tie after removing his jacket.

“You’re the greedy one who wanted to fuck right here,” Shouto hums as he unbuckles his belt. You stare at him feeling your pussy throb at the impending sex.

Your eyes fall onto his cock as his pants bunch at his knees, and your mouth dries at the sight of him. Eight inches and thick, his hand fists against his length, low grunts escaping his mouth as he steps near to you.

“Are you okay with this?” Shouto asks as the head of his cock brushes against your wet folds.

You nod your head as you shudder at the sensations that run through your veins, “Yes, are you?”

He nods too as he grunts softly. He begins to grind his cock against your folds. The increased pressure than what he was doing before makes you moan as he coats himself with your juices. Your hands hold onto his biceps as he continues to move his cock between your folds. teasing your clit instead of penetrating you and you whine in protest. The stimulation of your clit appreciated but you wanted him to fill you up.

“Will you just fuck me already?!” You rasp as you pathetically circle your hips against his length.

Shouto chuckles as he locks eyes with you, “Maybe.”

Your mouth opens to argue, but you’re cut off by him pushing himself into your needy pussy without warning. His length barely fits entirely within you, and his girth causes your head to spin as he stretches you out. “FUCK!” You hiss as your head presses into his collarbone.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Shouto shudders as your walls spasm against him, overloading him with sensations as he tries to calm himself. “Y-You’re so fucking tight.”

“Move, Shouto,” you beg eagerly needing more friction from him. “Please fucking move.”

With a grunt of confirmation, Shouto rolls his hips. You curse as his hips move outward before bottoming back into you. Your hips move in time with his, and intermingled moans resonate within your now joined mouths. His thrusting picks up speed the more comfortable he gets. His moving hips slamming against yours as you cry into his mouth. His hand grips your waist as he pulls you from the railing, one of your legs hooked around his waist as the other shakily stands. He slides his other hand down your back so that he can cup the bottom your ass. It’s a stretch and it adds to his vigorous thrusts into your cunt.

The feel of Shouto’s pelvis slapping against yours is your remedy — you’re craving him even more and he is well aware of that fact.

You’re swelling with euphoria and lust when he decides to amp up your pleasure by bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers circle against your clit with his ice-cold touch, it shocks you as your heated body jerks under the new temperature. With the added temperature play, it feels as if your body is breaking under his will. Your pussy clenching at sensations he’s giving you. Your hips rolling against his pounding hips, and he moans in return to how your walls clench against him.

Your head lolls to the side as you’re overwhelmed by the blazing heat in your core. The pressure of your cunt heavily evident throughout your entire body. You needed to keep it together, you wanted to keep going. The head of his cock finally comes to press against your sweet spot as he shifts your hips and you shriek.

“Fuck! Please, right there!” You beg as Shouto shakily nods, his hips coming to snap into that same spot over and over. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re no longer able to speak. You’re completely overpowered by his snapping hips.

“Will you come for me,” he groans out, his voice a pleading hope.

Your head nods frantically as you're unable to trust your voice. The action satisfies Shouto as he hisses lowly. Faster and harder, his fingers switch from pressing small circles to large figure-eights on your clit, while his hips slamming faster into you. You can’t handle the pleasure any more, and you feel your high coming.

“Shouto,” you gasp as he presses a kiss against your mouth again. His hands moving to lift you up, you can only cry in pleasure as he slams your back against a pole. His hips continuing to snap into you at insane speeds. You’re not able to keep up as sparks ignite in your veins as he slams into you over and over.

Your orgasm hits your body and it’s as if you’re falling away into ecstasy. Your mind spinning and dazed from the continuous world-altering sensations. You cry out his name as he still continues at his unmerciful pace. That is until he suddenly pulls out and drops you onto your shaking legs.

Whining at the loss of his cock, and the fact that you’re now on your feet, you open your shut eyes and stare at him unable to speak.

“Turn around,” he growls. You can’t believe he wants you to go for his own orgasm with you in a whole new position. Was he really a virgin you question as he fists his cock as you reposition yourself onto the railing. Your chest presses weirdly onto the wood as your knees buckle, and you look over your shoulder to see Shouto raising the skirt of your dress.

Shouto doesn’t ask to insert himself in you again. Your fingers grip the railing as he slams back in and you let out a sharp cry as you seize forward.

He starts up a brutal pace with his hips slapping against your ass with each and every thrust. Your hands move to your mouth as you cry as you rock forward with every thrust. His hips remain steady as his pace accelerates. You watch on a dazed high as snow falls onto your moving hair. Your fingers shoved into your mouth like a gag as he grips your hips. You use all of your willpower to push your hips back against his to meet him thrust by thrust.

Slowly, he starts to vocalize more and more. His lips moaning your name and crying out. He keeps one gripping hand on your hips while the other slips to your clit. Your mind snaps as he begins rubbing meticulous shapes onto your puffy nerves.

You can tell he’s close.

He’s chanting your name against your spine like some mindless prayer to you. His hot breath fanning onto your exposed skin. The hand on your hip grips you tighter, definitely bruising your skin. So you grip the railing with one hand and the other remains in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Shouto growls while nipping at your skin. “Ready to take my cum?”

“Yes! Please, Shouto!” You choke out from your fingers, the pleasure and overstimulation reaching their tipping point once again.

“Then fucking come.”

Your toes curl as you let out a sob of pleasure. Your arm is unable to support yourself anymore as you let your torso slam against the railing. The circles on your clit finally stop and your abused cunt clenches around Shouto’s cock. Your body reaches its second orgasm of the night, and Shouto arrives with you.

He cries out a “Fuck!” and your name as his speed spills within you. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, which makes you whine at the sound of your name being said so vulgarly from his mouth. As your cries become breathless pants, you press your hands against the railings. The saliva on your fingers turning cold as the two of you stand still for what feels like some time. You feel him slide both of his hands on top of yours to intertwine with yours as cum spurts out of his cock, filling you up.

He rubs circles on top of your hands with his thumbs as he slides himself out. The feeling of him gone makes the both of you whimper at the loss of each other’s fill. You feel some of his cum seep out, and you shudder at the emptiness your cunt now feels.

You slowly stretch back up, your body hurting and now quickly turning cold with the lack of his heat.

Shouto is two steps ahead of you as he grabs your tossed coat from the floor and wraps you tightly within its fabric. “There,” he smiles as he pulls up his own pants, his face still flushed for different reasons.

You giggle as you shake your head, “Did I really get dicked down because of mistletoe?”

A snort escapes Shouto’s lips as he nods, “You did.”

“Well, I do like you, Shouto,” you whisper as he finishes dressing. “It’s not just because of the mistletoe.”

“I know,” Shouto whispers as he takes your cheeks in his hands. “And now this is me asking you on a date and if you’d like to be my girlfriend.”

Joy fills your heart as you laugh softly. “I’d love to be,” you say as your lips meet his in a gentle kiss right under the mistletoe.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

taglist (message to be added):

@flayvus @antigenius @mariahschoices @cherry-pie-shay @the-secret-thief @vampire-dumbass @monst

[bellasweetwriting]

Memories

Jess Mariano x f.Reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

requests:  “omg please please PLEASE do a jess mariano x reader with the enemies to lovers prompt that says “ive accepted my feelings now accept yours” i can’t remember the number lol but hope that helps!” -- holiwould

“ okay bet. jess mariano x reader except the reader feels like jess is kinda slipping out of control and away from her and she can’t keep fixing his mistakes and they maybe break up or something? idk ab the ending that up to you ” - holiwould

note: this is a mix between the two requests, the song Miss You by Louis Tomlinson, and When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars. If you haven’t heard them listen to them while you read

warnings: yelling, some trauma, most angst, kissing

word count: 2,3k

He was staring at your picture. Your hair was a little bit shorter than it is now. You were wearing this wine tone of lipstick that the employee of Sephora recommended to you. He remembered that time you kissed his cheek as he said goodbye just for him to walk six blocks with your lips marked on his face,

Damn, he missed you.

He missed your laughter, your suggestions for movie nights that always involved either Brad Pitt or Ryan Gosling. So much you loved them, and he knew that; he was jealous of them even.

Could he drink his memories away? Damn it, he needed to erase you from his thoughts. Everything reminded him of you. Every song on the radio was about you. 

His pride, his ego, his arrogance, caused you to walk away from him the moment he needed you the most. 

"Jess!" You exclaimed as he lifted you up and threw you to the pool, jumping next. "Why did you do that?"

You were both staying at Jess's friend's house after a celebration party for your new book, which was just published. You and Jess went outside to the backyard and walked around the swimming pool when he decided it would be funny to throw you to the water. 

After seeing you battle to get to the surface, he jumped too, holding his laughter until his head was above the water, staring at you with a big cocky smile. 

You threw water and him while you took off your favorite shirt since you didn't want the chemicals of the pool to ruin it. You left it by the side of the swimming pool where just a few seconds ago you were standing unaware that you would end up in the water.

Jess glanced at you, not being able to ignore that your shirt was gone and your bra was visible. He smiled foolishly, not being able to help it. 

"Stop looking at me, you horn dog," you exclaimed laughing, as you splashed him, Jess tossing water back at you. "Was this your master plan? To throw me to the pool in the middle of the night and froze me to death just to see my underwear?" He laughed even louder, and you couldn't help to join him, letting out a giggle. "You have no game, Mariano."

"You look just so darn cute when you are mad, Y/N," he said with that tone of his. His deep voice stumbled in your brain as you sat down on the edge of the swimming pool. He swam quickly in your direction, impulsing himself out of the water and sitting next to her. "Did the cold pass?"

"No, I'm just trying a new blue tone in my lips. Does it suit me?" You sarcastically asked as he stretched his arm and grabbed his jean jacket, covering your shoulders with it. "Oh, what a gentleman. Is this your new move, because I'm falling for it. I want you, I need you. Oh, baby, oh, baby." Jess chuckled as you simply rolled your eyes, putting on Jess's jacket correctly. "Aren't you cold, Cry-Baby Walker?" 

"I've been worst. Those cold nights in New York City, only covered by a blanket and the constant screaming of the adults in the room at the end of the hall, were the coldest nights and roughest nights," he murmured before looking at you. You were shooked as you listened to him, but soonly upset when he started laughing. "You sometimes say a joke and never know if it is trauma until you see the look on people's faces."

"Asshole," you mumbled.

"Pretty," he replied, making you look at him. He slowly leaned in until he was close to your lips before whispering next to them, "I know a way to warm up." And with that, he kissed you gently, running his fingers through your wet hair, instantly warming you up.

"Hey, Jess!" Yelled some guy, grabbing the guy's attention.

Suddenly, he wasn't at that swimming pool anymore. He was at the bar again, filled with these stupid friends he made in this new city. If you saw him right now, you wouldn't even recognize him.

He was wearing a leather jacket and some old jeans, with an edition of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand on his pocket, a book he wasn't able to finish yet. He had in his hands your photograph next to that old vintage restaurant three blocks away from where you work. You described it as that colorful coffee shop with strawberry smoothies and a cute place to read a book or spend time with people you care about.

"Mariano," his friend called him again, appearing with two glasses of beer and sitting next to the writer. "What are you doing crying over here? We are having a party in your honor, man. It is not an everyday thing that your books get a review on the Washington Post, and make it to the Best-Sellers list. What's up with you?"

"Today is her birthday." His friend looked at him, confused. The clock had just marked midnight. "It's her birthday, and I'm in fucking New York City, getting drunk with people I met three weeks ago and staring at a picture that was taken a year ago."

No matter what this strange guy that he calls friend just to lie at himself to hide that he is, in reality, alone would say. He missed you.

"Don't make so much noise, Mariano!" You yelled at him in a whisper, both of you watching their steps as they enter his apartment. "Your neighbors are trying to sleep."

"I feel so sorry for them already," was the reply you got from Jess as he closed the door behind him and started kissing you, leading your way to the couch. "Who could say that I would be making out little Y/N someday?"

"Did you just call me «little Y/N»?" You questioned, laughing between kisses. "Hey, so I was thinking..."

"Think, no talk," he interrupted you as both of you sat on the couch.

"Wait, it is important," you said again, making him give up and listen to you. "Ok, so tomorrow, as you know, is my birthday..."

"What?" Jess exclaimed. "You never told me it was your birthday tomorrow! Now, I'll have to cancel my plans. Wait a sec..."

You looked at him, confused. Plans?

"Jess, I told you tomorrow was my birthday, like five times. With whom did you make plans tomorrow?"

"Wel, Jack, Fred, and Gabs. We were going out to the movies or some. Let me call Fred and tell him."

"Gabs as in Gabriella? Your ex?" He nodded. "You could've told me."

"Why? She's ancient history, and you aren't my girlfriend."

You quickly stood up, making him look over his cellphone to you. You didn't look happy, you seemed really upset.

"What are we doing here, Jess?"

"What do you mean?"

"For how long have we been hooking up? A month? Six weeks?" He knew where this was going. "At what are we playing here?"

"I don't know. You want to be something serious, I don't understand."

"That is precisely the thing I'm talking about, Jess. You never know anything. You never communicate! You have no idea how to express yourself or even how to treat a person that cares about you."

Jess sighed.

"What do you want from me, Y/N, huh?"

"I want you to care for someone at least once, Jess! I want you to remember things like my birthday or my favorite things or the way I like my coffee because you want to remember; because you care about me. We aren't teenagers anymore, Jess! You are grown enough to know that relationships are built by communication."

The writer quickly stood up, ready to discuss. 

"I care about you, Y/N!"

"No, you don't..." she whispered. "You can't even admit that you like me. That what you feel for me is more than making out because of boredom." He looked over to the big window with the view of Philadelphia. "Your birthday is on March 9th. You tend to forget to carry a pencil with you, and surprisingly, you are always in need of one, so I always carry one in my bag. When you meet someone, you stay extremely quiet while they talk and don't even say goodbye to them when you leave, and I've always told you that that is extremely rude, but you don't listen, you change the subject." 

His eyes met yours, and he noticed the tears that were threatening to leave your eyes. 

"You like french toasts," you continued, "but not with your coffee, so I always serve you orange juice when I make them for breakfast. Your eyes shine every time your uncle calls to tell you that he is doing fine because even if you don't admit it, you love him and appreciate him so much. And I remember all of those little details because I care about you, Jess. Hell, call me idiotic and girl for even thinking that maybe... I'm in love with you. But I'm worth more than this, Jess, I am. And if you can't see it, then it is no my problem. I am done trying just to release I am doing it alone. I've accepted my feelings, now accept yours. Bye, Jess."

And with that, you left.

"Then what are you doing here?" The guy asked Jess, dragging him away from his memories.

"What do you mean?" Jess asked.

"You are clearly not over this chick, you don't want to be in this party even though it is kinda in your honor, and it's her birthday. So, just leave. Go get her.

"How would I be certain she'll receive me with open arms?"

"You don't, man, that's the thing about love: you never know what is going to happen until you take the leap of faith."

He was right. He has always been scared of making the big jump. He has always been insecure about if anyone is going to be waiting to catch him. He couldn't keep making the same mistake over and over, he had to accept his feelings.

"I'm gonna go now. Thanks for the party, man."

Jess Mariano has never been more sure about something that what he was about to do. It was absurd. He was going to drive for an hour and a half in the middle of the night to Philadelphia. Yeah, sounded insane, but everything was about taking that leap of faith he was always scared to make.

But as soon as he hit the road, the doubts and questions hit his head like a train. What was he going to do? How would it end?

He was a writer. Every time he had an idea, the next thing that he knew was how it was going to end. You can't write a story without knowing the ending. But apparently, that was the only way of living it.

While he was driving to Philadelphia, you were sitting on your kitchen island, staring at that red velvet cupcake that held your single birthday candle. You were all alone, the same way you were your last birthday. You couldn't believe a year has passed since the last time you saw him.

You read that his book made the best-sellers list of the week. As soon as you read his name, the memories came back, as they have never left, they were just hiding inside a locked box waiting to come out.

Jess Mariano messed with your life in a way you could have never imagined. You were in love with him, and he never prooved you, he felt the same way with you. Jess wasn't even slipping away from you, you knew Jess always had a footstep out of the door, and you tried to ignore it, but it was almost impossible. Once he was in your life, he was in your life forever.

You blew the little candle, ate your cupcake, and went to sleep, not knowing that two hours later, you'll wake up by the sound of the doorbell. Who could be at two am in the morning? Your friends were going to come to prepare you breakfast, but a seven-hours head start was too much, even for them. 

"What's going on?" You sleepily asked as you opened the door, looking at Jess standing there. "Mariano? What are you doing here?"

"Your headaches are provoked by strong smells. You ran away from home at 18, but I've seen you call your parents from now and then to check on them. Your eyes light up at the mention of sugar. You have this Victoria Secret perfume that you stole from your aunt, and you never used it, you just like to spray it on the air and inhale it, because she smelled like that and you miss her. You used to be addicted to gum, so much that your mom had prohibited you from ever buying it. You love watching people renovate their houses on HGTV, and you make plans on how you are going to remodel your place. You love strawberries covered in chocolate, and you cry at the movies. And I remember all of these, even if it has been a year because I care about you, Y/N. And I couldn't say it back then because I was scared, but now I'm not. Now, I am the guy for you. I know how much you are worth it, I knew since the day I met you." He took a deep breath. "Please, Y/N, let me prove it to you that I can be the guy you need."

What would you say if Jess Mariano was standing in your doorstep, begging for a second chance? I'm honestly asking.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Yuugiroku Drama - Thumb-Sized Samurai Tracks 1-4 (of 7)

This is my last post of the month, so I’ll end by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon which provides access to my hakuoki blog translations and early access to my postings. Also, please let me know if you have any hakuoki drama cds that you’d be willing to share that are on my Lookout List since i either do not have audio for those cds or do not have audio that I can share.... and if you are able to remove watermarks from a video, please contact me.  

Well... I’m finally done with all that i can translate for this drama. posting these tracks all together since im unable to continue translating the rest of this by myself... which is something i wouldn’t normally do because i prefer splitting tracks up for more items on my queue, tho that’s also a side-effect of me usually not being able to stay focused on one drama... not sure when i’ll get to the subtitle videos for these since im still pretty busy (while i have the first 3 tracks of this drama subtitled [unedited], at this rate, i might just wait for when finals are done and just focus on all my videos in bulk then... plus ive yet to receive the tl for track 6 and 7 [and need someone else to go over where the voices overlap in track 5], so that will likely cause further delays to the videos for this drama).

also i totally caved in and exchanged points for the yuukoku no moriarty stage play file with chinese subs that someone finished translating recently and bought the blu-ray for the 2nd musical. havent craved more content from a fandom this badly since about a few months before i decided that i would start translating hakuoki stuff lol. 

Hakuoki Yuugiroku 2 Limited Edition Bonus Drama CD “Thumb-sized Samurai”

Translation by KumoriYami

Track 1

Kazama: hehehe~ Sure enough/As expected, this medicine's blend of Forsythia grass and boiled eel, along with my yearning and passion....

Heh.....hehehahaha~!!! Success at last! This forbidden drug, it shall be named ——the New Ishida Sanyaku · Changed/Improved!!

Hm~. as long as this strange drug  "the New Ishida Sanyaku" is improved, it will become a panacea that will make people fall deeply in love.......

She obviously loves me, [however] my wife is is unable to honestly admit to her feelings [and] is tormented by the pain of love-sickness/My wife, tortured by love sickness, has refused to admit her feelings, isn't this medicine suitable for her?

Alright/Well, now that this medicine has been completed, this must be quickly brought to my wife to drink.

No, wait, just in case, the effects of this must be tested first. (Kazama begins walking off somewhere—)

Track 2

Harada: So that's it/all, Hijikata-san, that's all I can report on. Sure enough/As expected, the team members' most pressing concern is the security of headquarters.

Saito: My opinions/suggestions are almost the same/similar/the same as Sano's. I believe that we need to improve our defences against intruders.

Hijikata: Is that so. I understand what you guys are saying. Harada and Saito, you've worked hard....... That being said, it's difficult to completely prevent intruders from coming in. This place is a temple, not a fortress. Even if we installed a fence now, that isn't really a good plan.

Saito:.....So what you're saying is......

Harada: But, shouldn't the area around Chizuru's room at least be fortified? It is true that someone is after her.

Saito: Kazama Chikage, Amagri and Shiranui [check audio], the self-proclaimed group of oni......

Hijikata:......Indeed. In short I need to consult with Kondou-san about this....... Then, that'll be it for today's report.

Saito: Then I'll go make some tea. You should rest first. Sano, you should also drink some.

Harada: Oh, thanks a lot. Then I won't be impolite [rephrase later].

(Saito leaves then returns shortly after)

Saito: I've brought the tea. This is fresh[ly brewed] and hot, so please be careful.

Harada: Thank you. I didn't expect this so quickly.

Hijikata: (sips tea)......Oh, what's this, Saito? Did you use some other tea leaves today?

Saito: Nn?......No, I haven't done that.

Hijikata: Really? Then why do I feel that this tastes different from usual?

Harada: You didn't put poison in did you?

Saito:......!! Don't say such frightening words, Sano. The idea of me poisoning the Vice-Commander is complete nonsense. [i prefer the word 'utter']

Harada: Don't get angry, I was just kidding. (sips tea).......but, like Hijikata-san said, the taste of this tea really is odd/strange [tl says 'subtle']......

Saito: Strange? How could that be...... (sips tea)....!!

Harada: What's wrong? You've suddenly become quiet.

Saito: This taste is of...... Ishida Sanyaku ！？

Hijikata: Ahaha, I was thinking that this tasted a bit familiar, so that's what it was........ wa, wait! Why was that put into the tea!?

Harada: Saito..... you bastard, did you actually put Ishida Sanyaku into tea/you didn't actually put Ishida Sanyaku into tea did you? Even if you love that stuff, you should know when to stop before going too far [idiom. rephrase later]!

Saito: No......I would remember doing something like that. I only saw that the teapot lid was open, that there were tea leaves already inside, and that I was thinking how it could easily be brought over to be used......

Hijikata:......There was already tea inside? Did you notice if there was something strange/weird in the surroundings?

Saito: Speaking of which........ I saw something, I thought it was garbage so I ignored it, I think I remember how a note there was a written note saying "dedicated/specially for my wife. Dogs are strictly prohibited to touch this" or something like that.......

Hijikata: What, those words. From where do they....seem... familiar.......

(Hijikata collapses)

Saito: Vice-Commander!!

Harada: oi~ oi!! What's wrong, Hijikata-san! Why are you/why did you suddenly....... falling/collapsing/fall/collapse......!!

(Harada collapses)

Saito: Sano!! Why are you also......!!.......Why am I/How can I.......also....... be fainting........!

(Saito collapses)

Track 3

(footsteps)

Souji: Ha...... good grief, this is a real problem. I've long wanted to say this, but why is it necessary for us to submit a report about our patrols when nothing unusual happened?

Heisuke: I actually think that way too. But nothing can be done about this because of the rules~

Souji: Anyway, if nothing unusual happens, isn't it enough for Heisuke to make the report/that you make the report, Heisuke? I don't think I should be involved in giving it~

Heisuke: You just don't want to go to Hijikata-san's room. If you were giving a report to Kondou-san, you'd obviously be very happy.

Souji: That's because Hijikata-san sees me he won't stop talking as soon as he sees me. Before this, all I did was secretly prepared some ink and smeared a stone into it so that it turned black. He surprisingly became furious at me.

Heisuke:......Anyone who experienced this kind of thing would get really angry.......  Hijikata-san, we're coming in. (they stop walking and open a door) Hey~ Hijikata-san~! Eh? Ah? It seems that he isn't here?

Souji:......But, doesn't it look like he was was recently in the room? Look, something spilled on to the floor.

Heisuke: What~? Is it possible that he wasn't careful and spilled his teacup, then panicked as he left to go and get a towel to dry this?

Souji: Maybe. Anyhow/Speaking of which...... besides the tea, there seems to be some other strange thing on the floor...... What is this?

Heisuke:......Hijikata-san, Sano-san, and Hajime-kun? What are these, these puppets/figurines [or dolls] look very well made. These might be Hijikata-san's things, so it'd be better not to touch them.

Souji: Anyway it seems like he's not in his room right now. Nothing to be done about it then~ [we'll] hand in our report later.

Heisuke: Yeah. Really, just where did he go......

(they open the door and leave the room)

Track 4

Harada: Saito...... Oi, Saito...! Wake up, I'm telling you to wake up!

Saito:.......Mm...mrgh... S-Sano?

Harada: Yeah.... oh, wait a sec! It's good that you're awake, but you can't open your eyes yet!...... Well, how should I put this...... you need to be mentally prepared......

Saito:.....? What are you saying? What mental preparations......?

~music tune~

Saito:.......!! Sano!?………………Sano?

Harada: Why is that a question? Without a doubt, it's me, Harada Sanosuke.

Saito: No....... But, the Sano I know, doesn't have that height......

Harada: Don't worry, you've become just like me. Just look down at your own body.

Saito:.....!!  Even my sword is unsteady in these smaller hands, and if I step forward, there's the risk of falling over because this extremely big head..... What the hell happened to my body...!

Harada: I'll say it first, but this isn't a dream. Because I've already my face quite a few times.

Saito:......This lowly/humble body...... let alone moving, won't I be useless to the vice-commander and be unable to contribute to the Shinsengumi!?

Harada: In a sense, I don't think you'll need to worry about that? Take a look/Look, Hijikata-san has also become like/also looks like this.

~music tune~

Hijikata: Ah...... damn it......! My hands and feet [arms and legs] have gotten shorter, and everything else [tl is surroundings/everything in the surrounding] has become incredibly large......!

Saito: E-Even the Vice-Commander.....!? Why do you [also] have this awkward appearance......!!

Hijikata: Saito, you're awake. I just woke up...... Oi, Harada, why on earth have we become/do we look like this!

Harada: Even if you ask me that, I have no idea/I don't know. I was like this when I woke up.

Hijikata: Yeah....... well, since the three of us have all become like this, it's obvious/goes without saying that the pot of tea was strange.

Harada: Yeah. To begin with, it's strange to have tasted Ishida Sanyaku in tea.

Saito:......I see. That is to say that this is all due to Ishida Sanyaku......

Hijikata: No, that's impossible......

Saito: Ishida Sanyaku is a medicine that is meant to be taken with sake, because it was deviously put into tea, this sort of of trouble happened.......

???: Che~ how stupid [tl is more "stupid beyond the point of help/redemption but i can't figure out how to word that]! Devious? It's shameless to even guess/speculate about this [reword later].

Harada:......! That arrogant voice......! Kazama!!?!?

Hiijikata: You bastard! Are you actually here to harass Chizuru again[??? there's an idiom used in this sentence that I don't really get so i omitted it]!? Where the hell are you hiding!?

Kazama: HAH~! Are your eyes just decorations?  I don't run or hide, so are you not able to see who is before your eyes?

~music tune~

Saito: Ha....... so you've also become like this...

Harada: I couldn't help but look up just now ['doubt my eyes'ish or 'look away'.... or something?] . (whispers) Ha.... It turned out be some random passerby.

Kazama: You bastard, sighing after looking at someone else's face, you really know nothing about etiquette!

Hijikata:: After breaking into someone's home, it goes without saying that etiquette will go to the dogs [reword later]! Alright, Saito, Harada! Let's drive this guy out of headquarters!

Saito: Understood (draws sword)

Kazama: Ah~ do you plan on fighting me with that poor body of yours?

Hijikata: Look at yourself, aren't you also the same!?

Harada: Speaking of that guy, why are you even here?.... Don't tell me that it was your plan to make our bodies smaller!?

Kazama: Ha, have you finally noticed it. You idiots/fools with no brains.

Saito: In other words, this is all that guy's fault?! Making all of our bodies smaller, what do you intend on doing?!

Kazama: It has nothing to do with you. I was only looking for my wife.... Yes, only just my wife.... That damn vile medicine!! To actually make turn me into this inferior article!!

Hijikata: Although I don't get why you're so upset, quit rambling, and hurry up and tell us the way to get us back to normal!

Kazama:.......Che.

Saito: You still won't talk. Then violence can be the only answer [reword later. don't like how it reads]...!

Harada: Hold it, Saito!

Saito: Why are you stopping me, Sano! If we don't get the answer out of that guy's mouth, we won't be able to get our bodies back to normal!

Harada: Don't you think it's a bit strange? Kazama was originally the culprit with that medicine, but why is that guy so small now? If he was able to get back to normal, he already would have done that!

Hijikata: Co-Could it be.... you're not going to say that you don't know how to get us back to normal, right!

Kazama:  Did you finally realize it? You idiots with no intelligence!

Harada: Uwah....... I really want to beat him up......

Saito: Vice-Commander, please give me the order to cut that guy down!

Kazama: Che, listen to me! It's not that I don't know how to restore us to our original states. It's just that this method will be extremely difficult to accomplish.

Hijikata:……Difficult [Difficult how]……?

Kazama: It's simple to get back to our original states. The teapot with the medicine in it is still in the kitchen. We just need to drink more of that medicine, the "New and Improved Ishida Sanyaku."

Harada: I feel that I want to complain about the name of that medicine since it's a bit too subtle.... But will that really work?!

Kazama: Of course. As I possess the noble bloodline of the oni, it's impossible for me to lie.

Hijikata: For the time being, we'll believe what you say. For the time being, we'll believe what you say. You said it'd be difficult, but shouldn't being able to get into the kitchen smoothly, be the only problem? 

Saito: Indeed. Just from the drop to the ground, which looks as high a wall, you can definitely infer how difficult it will be to get to the kitchen...

Kazama: That's right. As a dog who can only wag his head and wag his tail, that ability to understand is really good.

Harada: How is it that I feel angry whenever I hear you say something nasty [reword later].... Well, since we're like this, if we have more people, we'll be able to solve this problem sooner.

Hijikata: Speaking of which...... if someone would pass by/if someone just passed by......

(voices heard in distance)

Souji: Eh~ really, I don't always want to be doing this every time~

Heisuke: Don't say that. Hijikata-san should be back at his room now, right?

Hijikata: Those voices just now...... are Souji and Heisuke's?

Saito: Souji! Heisuke! Come here......! Mmph......! (mouth gets covered by Harada)

Harada: Don't be impulsive, Saito!!

Saito (weakly) What are you doing......!

Harada: I'm telling you/Listen [to me], just think about it! Even if Heisuke helps, the other person there is Souji!

Hijikata: If that guy finds out that we're tiny/this small, who knows how he would react!

Saito: (gasps and moves Harada's hand away) Ha...... Indeed, he'd treat us like toys and handle us as if we were straw...... just imagining that gives me the chills [reword later]......

Kazama: Che, as expected of a pack of dogs made up of rogues and villains. It's amazing that how you don't even have confidence/trust in your own companions.

Hijikata: Shut up! Under these circumstances...! Perhaps Souji is the only exception!

Harada: In the first place, what should we be doing, Hijikata-san? We have to do something, so should we just tell Heisuke about what happened?

Hijikata: Uh………… No, let's pretend to be dolls for a while. After, we can wait for Yamazaki or maybe Gen-san....... ah, there's still Chizuru, [but] we should wait for someone reasonable to pass by.

Kazama: What are you saying? You're actually telling me to pretend to be a doll [reword later]!?

Hijikata; Shut up and just do as I say! Even if it's you, if you can't get back to normal, won't you have a lot of problems!

Kazama: Che. There's nothing to be done/that can be done about it then.

Harada: Heisuke's coming! Everyone stop talking!

(door slides open)

Heisuke: Hijikata-san~!  Hah!? Still not here......

Okita: That's strange. I just heard a very quiet voice just now, so I thought Hajime-kun was here. (looks around) Anyhow, why have these dolls that were placed here, so scattered around [reword later/thesaurus]? Furthermore, this/And this strange doll with blond hair, I don't remember seeing it earlier.  

Toudou: What is this, a doll of Kazama? There's even one of one of Sano-san, but why isn't there one of these odd dolls of you or me, Souji?

(Heisuke pokes Kazama's head)

Kazama: You bastard......! The only one in the world who is allowed to touch me, is my wife...!

Harada: Come on, don't talk, just be patient!

Souji: These two figures look very much like Hijikata-san and Hajime-kun... Come look at them, they look pretty funny/interesting~

(Souji pokes Hijikata's head)

Hijikata:………………！！！！

Saito:…………！

Okita: Nn? I seemed to have heard something strange?

Harada: Well since these are Hijikata-san's things, if you play around too much with them, he'll get super angry~

Souji: That's right. But, if we just leave them here like this, isn't it likely for that cat to play around with them [reword later]?

Heisuke: It's as you say though since they were already left in a mess, maybe that cat messed them up [reword later].

Souji: In that case, why don't we just put them all into a box? They can be also put into a closet where the cat won't be able to reach them.

Saito: ………………What!?

Harada: If that happens, won't we be unable to move!?

Hijikata: This bastard/guy, he just had to come up with such a rotten idea right now!

Heisuke: Let's hold onto them for the time being then. Anyway, we still need to come back later and give give the report for our patrol. At the time, we can return these to Hijikata-san.

Souji: You're not thinking about taking these back to your room to prank them because you're upset about the faces of these dolls, right [i think? reword later]?

Heisuke: This idea of yours won't be any good/You're the only one who would come up with such a bad idea... well, then I'll take the Sano-san and Kazama dolls for to hold onto for safekeeping.

Kazama: Kuh......! Things are getting more and more complicated...

--To be continued...?---

[jungxk]

just one (vii)

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

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

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 10.4k

tagging: @underthejoon​ @misosoup-forthesoul​

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

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

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

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

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

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

she pulls harder. "what was that?"

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

would jungkook get with other girls?

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

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

"i think they look nice."

"thank you!"

"and i want to borrow them."

"...what?"

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

jungkook pops an eye open. "deal?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the pair of them chorus. "what?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"no, no, an astrophysicist-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"excuse me?"

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

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

x

x

x

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

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

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

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

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

"ex-boyfriend?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

x

x

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

who you wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all jungkook can do is nod happily.

[we-are-inevitable]

love me sober // javid

ive ALSO posted this one before but i just made a BUNCH of edits and changed the ending, so, here we go!!

Love Me Sober

some things for this fic: -Sad Jack -there’s a lot of feelings in this one -idk if there’s anything else. just Sad -but reconciliation at the end !

WARNINGS: alcohol abuse, arguments, cursing, descriptions of withdrawal symptoms. please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable!! take care of yourself!!

"Jack, tell me you aren't drinking again."

The shakiness. The mood swings. The incoordination. All of it is painfully obvious, and Jack knows it. He knows he's struggling. He knew he isn’t hiding it as well as he should have been, and now he's made David upset.

“Jackie, answer me.”

How pathetic is that? There he is, staring at his boyfriend, unable to even speak. David has probably known for a while. Right? No- if David had known, he would have left. He would have called Jack an idiot and cursed him out for ruining his life. Jack didn’t deserve anything else.

“Jack!”

David has always been so, so pretty. He has sharp features. An angular nose, one that Jack had drawn over and over, in addition to those gorgeous eyes. David’s eyes are so beautifully blue, and Jack had spent countless hours slumped over a sketchbook, trying to accurately portray that look of adoration that David always gives him.

That look was certainly not the look he was giving Jack now.

“Why- Why are you just staring at me? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his throat closing up. Not good enough.

“You- You’re sorry? God damn it, Jack, I-- You promised you were okay!” David is running his hands through his hair. He had gotten a haircut a few days ago, and Jack thinks it looks perfect. Not as long as before. David has started pushing it up so it isn’t in his face while he works. “I knew it was a bad idea for you to stop going to meetings, I knew--”

“The meetings didn’t fucking work!” Loud. Jack is being loud. He stands from his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. “They didn’t fucking work, okay?! I went for /you/, David, and- and I hated it! I hated it but you always looked so fuckin’ proud when I came home and- and I-- Fuck! Fuck, Davey, I couldn’t do it anymore! Do you know how hard it is?! All'a those fuckin' people in there were fine and I was fuckin' shaking the entire time! I can't function, David!”

“That’s when you fucking talk to me, Jack! I could have helped! I /want/ to help you get better! I'm not trying to be your enemy here! I love you, you just... You need to be honest with me." David takes a step toward him, and Jack takes a step back. They do this dance until Jack feels the wall against his back, but David doesn’t dare move closer- he’s still positioned about three feet away to give Jack space.

Usually, Jack would be grateful for the space, for the opportunity to initiate the touch.

Now, though, all he wants is for David to hold him and tell him he’s alright, instead of looking at him with that desperate disappointment.

“How long, Jack? How long have you been drinking again?”

Jack can’t ignore the look on his face. “Two months.”

“Two mo-- Jesus, Jack, I knew something was going on, but I just thought--”

“Thought what? Huh?” Jack is defensive. Defensive is never good, but he feels anger coursing through his veins and there’s nothing else to say. “What, you- you thought I wasn’t fucked up anymore? You thought I was normal again?”

David takes in a deep breath. “You aren’t fucked up, you’re just struggling right now. Stop talking about yourself like that.”

“Then stop fuckin’ talkin’ to me like a child, Dave!” Jack shakes his head. “Please, just- just stop! I don’t need your fuckin’ help, because there’s nothin’ wrong with me!”

“Which is it, Jack?!” David raises his voice. He’s not screaming, but Jack has never heard him like this. “You say you’re fucked up, you say you can't function, and then you say nothing is wrong with you-- What am I supposed to do?! You say you’re sorry, but you don’t let me try to help you, and you say that the meetings weren’t helping but you don’t want to try something else, and- I just- I don’t know what to do here! I love you, Jack, and I want to help you, but you're so- you're contradicting yourself again! I need a straight answer, Jack. What are you doing right now?!"

A deep breath. Heart pounding in his ears. Shaking hands and tears clouding his vision. “I’m leaving.”

Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he can’t backtrack now.

“What?”

“I’m leaving,” Jack repeats, squaring his shoulders.

David stares at him with a critical gaze. He looks confused, then angry, then sad, then… numb, all within three seconds. Jack has never seen that expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Of course you are. That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it?” David laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. There are tears welling in his eyes and he looks so hurt and Jack knows he fucked up, but all he can do is nod.

“Just--” David cuts himself off by ripping his gaze away from Jack, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he clenches his fists next to his side. His face is red. A tear rolls down his cheek. “Just go, Jack, if you think- if you think that’s the best choice for you right now. I trust your judgement.”

Jack swallows. “Just for a few days.”

David nods. “For a few days. Sure.” He turns away, walking toward their bedroom.

They’ve been together for nearly two years. Lived together for six months. And Jack was fucking it up.

David stops just in front of their bedroom door, gripping the doorframe. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t call me until you’re sober." With that, David walks into the bedroom and slams the door behind him.

Jack stares at the door, takes in a deep breath, and exhales in a sob as he gathers his keys, phone, and wallet. He looks back at the door, whispering a broken, "I love you," before walking out to his car.

***

Two weeks.

It takes two weeks for Jack to work up the courage to go home.

He's been with his mother the entire time, who he knows has been sending David updates every few days. Medda had taken care of him. Helped him through the shakes and the urges, the mood swings and the violent anxiety attacks, and he still isn't out of the clear, but he feels calm for the first time in months. He feels stable, even if the stability will only last a few hours at the most.

And that's why he decides to go home, because the calm he feels has brought along the realization that he misses Davey. He misses his boyfriend, the love of his life. He misses him so, so much, and he... He wants to prove that he's better. That he will be better.

When Jack walks up the steps to their apartment, he feels as though he's going to lose his lunch. None of his shit is sitting on the curb, so at least he hasn't been kicked out or replaced, but that still doesn't do much to ease his anxiety. With a deep breath, Jack takes the plunge and knocks on the door, staring down at his shoes while he waits.

The door, surprisingly, opens almost immediately. "Wow, sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be here so fast," David says quickly, and Jack looks up, seeing David fumble with his wallet. "It was, uh, $19--" He cuts himself off as he finally notices Jack standing there, and his face falls. "...You... You're back..."

"And, unfortunately, I'm not the pizza guy," Jack whispers with a nervous grin, then takes a step back. "I-- I went to Mama's for a while. I ain't had nothin', you can- you can ask her, and I went to a meeting, and I-- I am so, so sorry, Davey, for everything, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I-- I want to get better, and I want us to get better, and I--"

"Jackie," David whispers, reaching out to take his hand. "Just... just come inside. It's okay, Jack. You're home now, and that's all that matters."

Jack squeezes David's hand, takes in a deep breath, and crosses the threshold. Instantly, he's pulled into a protective hug by David, and Jack can't help but relax into his hold. The first of his tears spill over as David kisses his forehead, and he's soon sobbing, apologizing, whispering against the fabric of David's hoodie. And David lets him get it all out. David allows him to get everything out of his system.

Because they both know that this, right here, is rock bottom. And they both know that the only way to go from here is up.

[astralkoo]

Beautifully Misfit

SERIES; Hybrid BTS

‣ Genre: fluff, smutt, hybrid au

‣ Word Count: 2.08k

‣ Pairing(s): skunk!Jimin x reader, puppy!Taehyung x reader, bunny!Jungkook x reader

‣ Warning(s): very strong language, lots and lots of f-bombs so beware of that, bit of angst if you squint real hard, nothin else for this chapter so enjoy ;)

‣ to be aware of: sub!jimin, switch!taehyung, switch!jungkook, dom!reader, some kinky ass future happenings, BDSM themes, some heavy angst, and triggering themes. 

Summary: you never really saw yourself as a hybrid person. that is, until your best friend introduces you to his hybrid, and you suddenly find yourself craving the companionship. you only intended to bring home one. somewhere between the lines you ended up with three beautifully misfit hybrids who craved nothing but your love.

part. i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi (coming soon)

A/N; this is my first post on here, so I’ll make this short… thanks for reading, I’m sorry, ily

Lonely.

It hit you all of a sudden.

You were lonely. For about four months, you’ve been living in you home, working as an editor for your aunt’s absurd gossip magazine, eating solitary meals, sleeping in your admittedly cold bed, and you were just now realizing how lonely you’ve been all this time.

This wasn’t completely out of the blue. You had been feeling a nagging sensation of emptiness in the pit of your stomach for a while now.

But it wasn’t until you had your best friend’s hybrid curled up in your lap, playing with your hair, and babbling about his love for food and pretty things that it settled in exactly what that feeling was.

“You know, you’re kind of cute. Your face is… decent, I suppose. But Namjoonie is much cuter and— oh my gosh you’re crying,” Jin squealed in surprise, shock lighting up on his features as an onslaught of tears suddenly poured from your eyes.

“Shoot, I’m s–sorry, Jin,” you softly cursed, gently pushing the angora hybrid off your lap as you jumped to your feet, hands feverishly working to dry your wet cheeks.

“Was it the cute comment? I mean, it’s true, but I wasn’t intending to hurt your feelings… didn’t realize you were that sensitive,” he grumbled, pouting at the fact that you’d just ruined the mood for him.

You quickly shook you head, “no– no it wasn’t that, I just— shit, I mean, fuck, excuse my language.”

“Y/n! How many times do I have to tell you to watch your profanity around Jin— holy shit, why are you crying?” Namjoon gasped in concern as he walked out of the kitchen before running to your aid. “Did Jin hurt your feelings? I’m so sorry he has no filter whatsoever and says thing without thinking and—”

“It wasn’t that, a Joonie,” you cut him off with a sniffle, “I just realized something.”

Namjoon stared at you for a moment with worried eyes, before turning to his hybrid. “Jinnie, you stay here for a moment, y/n and I need to have a quick talk, alright?” The angora rolled his eyes, not appreciating the secrecy but not arguing to Namjoon’s relief. He quickly guided you into the kitchen, urging you to take a seat while he made you a glass of water.

“What happened? What upset you? Was it really not Jinnie because I know that he can be—” your best friend in ten years began to ramble out questions.

Chuckling lightly, you shook you head. “No, Joon. I swear it wasn’t anything Jin said. He’s a sweetheart, really. A bit blunt, if anything but nothing extreme,” you reassured him with a soft smile. He nodded, eyes swirling with a mixture of relief and confusion.

“Then, what was it?”

You sighed, turning away from him. “I just… I realized how lonely I’ve been.”

Namjoon settled himself in the seat beside yours, gently placing his hand over yours in a comforting gesture. “What do you mean? Lonely how? You know you’ve always got me, and now Jinnie.”

“Of course I know that. And I am so lucky to have you in my life, seriously. You’re the best best friend a girl could as for… when your clumsy ass isn’t breaking my shit, that is.” He gasped dramatically, swatting at your arm, causing you to giggle quietly. “But, we can’t be around each other 24/7, you know? You have your life, your job, your responsibilities, and now your hybrid; and I have mine– minus the hybrid.”

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked, searching your eyes for further explanation.

“I– I just… I hate being alone all the time. Especially in that big house. I’m home all the time, the only places I go are your place and the grocery store when my fridge empties. That’s really sad, Joon,” you muttered, glancing at your intertwined fingers.

“You’re right… that’s really pathetic, y/n.” You laughed, lightly kicking his ankle to which he grinned and squeezed your hand, “but seriously, if you’re so lonely… why not find a boyfriend?”

You snorted loudly at that. “Me? Boyfriend? Please, let’s not get too crazy here, Joonie. Try to keep it realistic, yeah?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes heavily at your response, scoffing softly, “I’m serious, y/n! When’s the last time you even got laid?” His voice dropped to a whisper at the last word, knowing his impressionable hybrid with impeccable hearing was just the next room over. You gaped at him, taking that as your turn hit his arm.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to my loneliness in the least,” you countered sharply despite the glowing blush making its way into your cheeks, glaring at him pointedly.

He smirked, cocking a brow. “That long, huh?”

You scowled at him stubbornly for a moment. “…yes. Fine. That long, you asshole.”

“Thought so~” he sang, sticking his tongue out, “why don’t you get out there then, huh? It could do you some good, relieve some of that tension.”

“Because, Joonie,” you groaned, slumping forward onto the countertop, face dropping into your folded arms, “that’s not what I want. I don’t want a stupid hook up with some random guy I met in a germ infested bar. That won’t solve my problem, I’m lonely not horny.”

“Same thing,” he shrugged.

You decided it best to just ignore him, continuing, “but I don’t want a boyfriend either. Every time in the past that I’ve had a boyfriend, they’ve only caused me more trouble then they were worth. Either they found someone they found more attractive and ditched me or found someone more interesting and ditched me. Not to mention, guys are just all around dipshits.”

Namjoon pouted, pointing at himself and waiting for some kind of exclusion.

“Besides you of course, Joonie, you’re an angel. I’m talking about straight dudes. They’re the real problem in this society,” you confirmed with an angry huff.

Namjoon raised your half empty glass, “I’ll drink to that.”

“All guys do is cause problems. They will in no way help to solve mine. So now… I don’t know… I just don’t want to be alone anymore,” you groaned, slapping your palms over your face in frustration, “maybe I should just get a bunch of dogs. Become a crazy dog lady. That’d be fun.”

Namjoon was quiet for a moment. “Or… maybe… you could get a hybrid.”

You choked on air, eyes bulging out of your head. “What? No! You’re crazy.” You immediately shot down the idea, shaking your head rapidly.

You? A hybrid owner? Yeah fucking right. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone an entire other human– er, hybrid being. Not to mention you’d be a terrible influence, with your drinking and cursing habits. No hybrid would stand a chance in your home. Owning a hybrid is essentially adopting a child with animalistic appendages and habits. It was really a two for one. Which also meant two times the responsibility.

Responsibility you were anything but prepared for.

“What’s so crazy about it? You’re great with Jin, you took a course on hybrids in college so you’re well informed, and they make amazing companions,” he informed, hands waving around in emphasis.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not a hybrid person.”

“Says who?”

“Says me! I don’t know the first thing about hybrids, I only took that stupid course in the first place for the easy grade!” You retorted quickly, before a sudden thought occurred.

“Well, personally, I think—”

“Shit what time is it?”

He glanced down at his watch, “almost ten, why?”

You lurched out of the chair, quickly gathering up your belonging, “I’ve got an article deadline at twelve is why, fuck.”

Namjoon nodded with a quiet sigh, following as you scrambled to his front door. Like the gentleman he was, he opened the door, only to stop you half way out it with a hand on your shoulder. You turned back to him with raised brows and a questioning glint in your eyes.

“Just think about it, okay? For me? I hate seeing you like this.”

For the sake of his sanity, as he had a tendency to over worry, you agreed, “okay, Joon. I’ll think about it,” giving him a parting hug before darting to your car, grumbling under your breath, “when you start eating pussy.”

In other words, you definitely would not be reconsidering your decision.

Okay. So you were reconsidering.

It had been a day since you had dropped by Namjoon’s place. A day since he’d made that absolutely ludicrous suggestion, which gradually looking less and less ludicrous.

It was almost… appealing.

A hybrid companion… that would definitely make the house feel a lot less lonely.

You even wondered about what type you’d get. A dog, maybe. You’ve always had a soft spot for puppies, and you can’t help but coo and swoon whenever you see one on the street.

A cat, perhaps. Cats could be annoying, but they also knew when to step back and give you space, which would be nice. A lot less maintenance than dogs. But dogs were cuddly as hell and you’d enjoy having a cuddle buddy, that’s for sure.

Now, this is all circumstantial depending on the breed.

Hell, you were really bad at making important decisions.

“Shit, focus!” You cursed, smacking your cheeks harshly enough to make yourself groan as the skin tinted a hot red. You were supposed to be working on an article your aunt had just sent to you for editing.

But god damn the only thing on your mind was hybrids, hybrids, hybrids, and… what do you know— more hybrids!

“Fucking mother fucker fucking bitch can’t mind his own god damn son of a bitch business,” you growled under your breath as you slammed your laptop shut and yanked your phone out of the pocket of your baggy sweat (perk of working at home; you never have anyone to impress) and aggressively typing in Namjoon’s number before holding it up to your ear, muttering angrily to empty air. After the third ring, he finally picked up.

“Hey, Y/n, what’s--”

“Fuck you, Kim Namjoon. Fuck you to hell.”

“Up,” a short pause, “okay, I admit, was not expecting that response, but okay. Any particular reason you’re fucking me to hell?” 

“Hybrids.”

“Hybrids?”

“Yes, hybrids. I want a hybrid so fuck you.”

“Why fuck me if you’re the one that wants a hybrid?”

“Because you’re the one that put the idea of hybrids into my head in the first place,” you hissed in retaliation, slamming your fist down on your desk for emphasis.

He snorted loudly, “well, it wouldn’t be in your head if you didn’t want it a little bit in the first place. My suggestion just made you realize what was already a subconscious desire.” 

It was your turn to pause, lips pursing together as you thought it over. Fuck, you hated logic and reason, always ruining all your fun. “Fuck, you’re right. In that case, fuck me, too. In fact, fuck everything, the world is bullshit and this is not what I signed up for.” 

“When has the world ever been fair, babe,” he chuckled. 

Groaning loudly, you slumped back in your chair, dramatically throwing your arm over your face. “I don’t know what to do, Joon.”

“Do you really want a hybrid? They can be a lot of responsibility, but they really do make phenomenal companions, especially if you get the perfect one for you.” His words were somewhat consoling for your brain, which was currently going on overdrive. 

You pouted, tugging your knees up to your chest. “Do you think I could handle it?”

“I know you can handle it. You’re a lot more mature than you give yourself credit for. And even if it gets a bit overwhelming, I’ll always be there to help you out, you know that.”

You nodded to no one in particular, gnawing at your lip with furrowed brows, buried in your own thoughts, a back and forth battle going on in your brain. Do you really want this? A hybrid all your own. It would be nothing like going and visiting with Jin, you knew that much. It would be completely your responsibility, your companion, all yours. 

For some reason, that thought brought a ghost of a smile to your lips. 

Yours. That sounds surprisingly nice.

“Okay,” you murmured softly. 

“Okay?” He repeated.

“Okay... it looks like I’m adopting a hybrid.”

[crystalinn]

I haven’t posted about this here yet, but boy howdy has my life been A Mess™️ of late.

TW: medical talk, high stress situations, mentions of blood under the cut

This is a very long post, so a mild TL;DR: ma’s sick and this is me for eternity now (loud noises in video): 

Picture it. November 10th (ish. Time is hard.). The motherbeast came down with a case of viral bronchitis. She got a few days off work to recover. 

A couple days pass. She went back to work. Her manager sent her in the cooler for two hours. 

An immediate downturn ft. a fall out of bed that took 45 minutes to fix, heavy panting, confusion, the whole lot. She went to the Express ER. They said “oh hey, your viral bronchitis has become full blown pneumonia. You’re goin’ to the Real Hospital™️ for two days. See if you respond well.” Turns out, she did, at first. 

About a week or two of what seemed like solid improvement all came crashing back down when her return to work arrived. She went back to work... or tried to. She went to step onto the curb and gravity said no. She faceplanted the pavement, and the ambulance was called. A thorough concussion check later, and her manager drove her and her truck home. The next day, she went back to the Express ER, and they said “oh shit, your lung xray is worse than last time. Back to the Hospital for you.” 

That stay was nine days long. She was tested for tuberculosis (which came back negative, thankfully), and had a PICC line installed. During said stay, she did get rather confused and agitated, as it was near the end of the month and the rent needed paid. She called me in the middle of the night, asking me to move her IV... despite me being at home. So that was a thing.

After she came home on the 4th of this month (December), I had to start administering her PICC line antibiotics, every 8 hours. Did y’all know that cefepime (a bigboi antibiotic) smells like someone doing unholy things to eggs? Sulfuric smelling bullshit, that. Had some hiccups there, what with massive air bubbles in the line and getting the infusion orb stuck on the line. We were supposed to be done the 25th. Then she went to her new primary care doctor, and it was extended to the 6th of January, which h.

Anyway, fast forward to the 23rd. Mum was out with a pal, getting some groceries, and some Miralax ‘cause... y’know, and she fell on her ass. At this point, falling down is like a glowing neon red flag. She came home, was a bit wobbly, but was generally okay. Her primary care doctor called after the home health nurses stole some blood to tell her that her potassium levels are critical. A friend/my ‘adopted’ brotherbeast, Frank, brought her a fuckton of bananas that night. 

Now this is where it gets real fuckin’ spicy. The morning of the 24th, after we get done with the 7am orb, I gave her a dose of Miralax. She was fine, until the 3pm orb, when severe gut cramps showed up. Those lasted until about midnight when things... moved along. After that, shit went downhill fast. I put her to bed after orb times at 11 pm, and she kept waking up. As time went on, she got more and more confused. Like, she knew general things, in a kinda slow way, but she could not follow directions. On the morning of the 25th (fucking Christmas.), things had reached its boiling point. She was very confused, unable to focus, slurring words. I rang up a friend, Sandy (who has been a massive help this whole time of Fuckery), to get her to the ER. This triggered a complete meltdown. It took both of us to get her out of her chair, not to mention the sudden burst of confused crying and begging not to go. 

We finally managed to get her there, and the ER’s like “yo this looks like a stroke, so we’re gonna keep her, do an MRI or three, and get back to you.” Turns out she was very dehydrated, currently has a UTI, and is still a bit... shall we say, fucked up. But, the MRI came out clean, but there was some issue with the PICC with like, a blood clot, but they cleaned it out, so they let her go on the 26th. 

But just wait for it... I put her to bed pretty much as soon as she got home, ‘cause she doesn’t sleep in the hospital. Makes sense, right? I went to check on her at about 8, and she was unable to really comply with requests/commands/questions. I’d ask “what’s your name?”, I’d get her name (most of the time), but when I’d ask “when’s your birthday?”, I’d get her name again. Or the fact she lost her PICC line cap, and I’d ask her to hold the newly sterilized port so it wouldn’t touch anything, she’d say okay, take it, and immediately drop it. Repeatedly. 

I broke down whilst on the phone with my dad because everything has been too much of late, and eventually put her back to bed to wait for the 11pm orb. 

11pm rolled around... and well. I couldn’t get her to wake up. She’d react to me poking and prodding her by making noise and moving away, but she would not wake up. Not properly. So, I called the on call home health nurse to see if she could help, and she pretty much told me to just call an ambulance. Not wanting the expense because I live in Hell the US, I called my dad. He helped me try to wake her up over the phone, but she flat refused. I was left with no choice. So, I called the ambulance, and just before they knocked on the door, she sat up like “huh?” but extra confused. She almost didn’t go to the hospital because she said “nah, I don’t want to go” but one of the EMTs was like “nah, you gotta go.”

So, she spent about 8 hours in the ER, and they told me that they can’t keep her since she was mostly lucid, but they did float an Idea (a skilled nursing facility, at least until she got her ducks in a row) to her that was immediately denied, but with some prodding from me, she finally agreed. So they moved her upstairs from the ER to keep her until they can find a facility in the Blue Cross/Blue Shield network that’s reasonably local. The one that came to visit yesterday turned out to not be, and I’m pretty sure the dude kicked it back to the Case Supervisor to see if they can find another. But, after they moved her into her room, she’s cleared up quite a bit. 

She’s still a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, a bit unfocused, and can get caught out in the grapes mentally, but she has improved a lot. 

Oh, and another thing she’s been doing is fighting me re: eating since the first go around. Bread’s a texture issue, rice is hard to eat without teeth, and everything else “smells bad” (which, since she’s quit smoking as of that second hospital stay... I understand, but you gotta sometimes push past that.) I did manage bananas though. Thank fuck for those. 

But, back to the plot: today (the 28th) was a decent day. Much clearer, less starts and stops in her speech. A bit more focused. She didn’t manage to sleep last night, so she was kinda tired. Had another MRI, but we won’t know about that until probably tomorrow (the 29th). Maybe. Had some PICC issues, though. The nurse got the cefepime running just fine, then mum had to use the bathroom, and when she came out, the machine started screaming bloody murder. After that, the nurse came back and tried to flush the line, since the cefepime was unable to run, and when she took the syringe off, the saline shot right back out... which ain’t supposed to happen. Hit me, the nurse, mum, the bed... probably got the windows too. So they’re working on that, and hopefully they figure it out.

Had my own woes at the hospital today, too. The sole of my boot fell off, so my ride/friend/adopted sister?, Sandy, went to walmart and got me some Heavy Duty Superglue, which I got it about half way stuck before we had to leave... then when we were pulling into the parking lot at home, the nurse in charge called to ask some questions about the PICC, the antibiotic, how long it’d been there, how long she was supposed to be on it, the pharmacy’s number, all that. So I went to get out of the car, my coke bottle fell out of my pocket, started rolling under the car, and I overextended. Fell right on my knees. They are not happy. Took a hot minute to get my dumb ass off the ground, without hurting Sandy, who is like 5′2″ and v smol. I am 5′6″ and... decidedly not. Plus the bonus rain.

UPDATE 12/29/2019: the diverticulitis has made a reappearance. It’s like everything is just It’s free real estate.

UPDATE 12/31/2019: Around 2 am this morning, she managed to roll out of bed and whack her head pretty good on something. They did a CT scan, and it came out clean. No concussion. However, now she has a sitter/keeper/minder to make sure she doesn’t do it again. It’s a good thing the nurses heard her fall, ‘cause despite being armed, the bed alarm didn’t go off. I know of all of this, ‘cause the hospital called me at 3 this morning, and boy howdy that’s a gut drop, let me tell you. But, better a CT ride and a bump on her noggin vs. the alternative. Sure is one thing after a-fucking-nother, ain’t it though.

UPDATE 1/1/2020: 2019 keep your problems challenge: she's had a major mental shift again, and now she's really groggy, really confused... So the hospital moved her to the ICU and called me for consent on a spinal tap, just to make sure they're not missing anything. Other than that, they've done x-rays and another CT, I think to check her spine, hips, the one leg she's been having issues with. The doctors also think that it may be the cefepime causing this altered mental state, and after doing some digging, boy howdy I sure believe it. Cephalosporins are some nasty fuckers.

So! That’s been my month and a half! I’d like to take a break now, please!

EDIT: Further updates found here.

[kawaiikichi]

Please Don’t Leave Me Again (Saiouma)

Prompt #81 from the Angst Prompts list for @renrennow! I’m sorry it took me so long to finish it; I decided to add an additional scene as I was writing and then it took more time than I thought it would (I also added it because I felt like the one-shot was extremely short and I rewrote this one-shot several times before I was satisfied).

I hope you like it and let me know if you would like anything changed/edited! :D

Based off of the request below:

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me Again

Prompt: “I should’ve died. That would’ve made you happy.”

Summary: It has been three months since Shuichi has taken Kokichi in. No progress has been made to fix the unstable relationship between them. Shuichi tries once more to get Kokichi to talk to him again when he stumbles upon a horrifying sight...

One-Shot Notes: This is a Virtual Reality AU where the killing game occurred in a simulation (nobody actually died); Shuichi takes Kokichi in after the events of the simulation; they’re actually older than their in-game selves due to how long they’ve been in the simulation at around 19-20 years old

Warning(s): Attempted suicide (Ouma tries to hang himself); read at your own risk!

One-shot is under the cut!

It was decided. Shuichi was going to try once again to get Kokichi to open up to him.

He stood in the elevator, holding two plastic bags and a pack of six grape Panta bottles in his hands as he recalled the conversation he had with Rantaro, who had started working at the detective agency with him.

💜💜💜💜

“Ouma’s living with you now?” Rantaro questioned, eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Yeah...I know, it sounds surprising, doesn’t it?” Shuichi said.

“A little.” Rantaro admitted.

He took a drag from his cigarette, wisps of smoke drifting out from his parted lips soon after.

“I thought you hated him.” he commented.

“I never did. It’s just...everything that was being said in the simulation was forced. I never thought that way once about him. The way Shirogane and Team Danganronpa set things up, it made me say certain things even if I felt the exact opposite about it.” Shuichi replied.

“I see...” Rantaro took another drag. “So, what were you hoping to accomplish by taking him in?” he asked.

“Well...obviously, I want to try and fix things between us. I want to start over and try building trust between us and eventually, a friendship of sorts. However...” Shuichi rose his head to watch up at the sky. “He refuses to talk to me. He keeps himself locked up in the guest room and he only comes out to wander around the apartment when I’m on work. Like, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to try and have a conversation with him and fix things, but it still kind of hurts that he’s going out of his way just to avoid me.” Shuichi explained.

Rantaro hummed as he listened to Shuichi’s explanation.

“I see, I see...well, I’ve got a solution for you.” he spoke.

“A solution?” Shuichi questioned.

“Yeah.” Rantaro exhaled, rings of smoke escaping his lips. “Coax him into talking by giving him snacks and stuff.” he said.

“Huh?! But, isn’t that just me bribing him?!” Shuichi exclaimed.

A throaty chuckle came from the green-haired male.

“You sound surprised that I’m suggesting you bribe him into doing your bidding.” he pointed out.

“Well, yeah! I mean, I don’t want to force him to talk to me or anything...” Shuichi mumbled out.

“Well, you’ve tried everything else so far and it hasn’t helped you, right? So, all I’m saying is that it’s time to fall back onto your last resort.” Rantaro explained.

He looked at Shuichi.

“You understand what it is I’m saying, right?”

“Yeah...I guess so.”

“Alright.” Rantaro pulled his phone out and began typing something down. “I’m going to send you a list of his favorite drinks and snacks. Go buy those and bribe him with them.” he told him.

Shuichi sighed.

“I guess I’m doing this...alright, then.” he said.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Besides, I think it’ll work.” Rantaro said.

💜💜💜💜

After debating with himself for the remainder of his shift, he decided to go along with Rantaro’s suggestion.

Shuichi looked down at the items he went and bought.

I really hope this works, he thought to himself.

The elevator stopped on the tenth floor a few minutes later. He stepped off and made his way down the hall to his apartment. He stopped before the door to his apartment, dropping the plastic bags and pack of soda onto the floor. He dug through his coat pocket, whipping out his keys and unlocking the door.

“I’ll just go and set these down on the counter in the kitchen. Then, I’ll go get him.” he said to himself.

Toeing his shoes off at the door, he made his way into the kitchen and began taking the items out of the plastic bags. As he began putting the bottles of Panta in the fridge, he noticed something.

It’s awfully quiet...is he asleep, he wondered to himself.

He closed the fridge door.

I’ll go and check, just to be safe, he told himself.

He headed into the hall, making his way over to Kokichi’s room. He stopped, seeing that the bedroom door was slightly open.

That’s unusual. He usually keeps the door closed, he thought to himself.

“Ouma-kun—“ he peered inside and suddenly, his heart dropped.

Nausea swept over him as his eyes grew wide like saucers. His eyes slowly moved up to the ceiling fan and then trailed down the rope tied around the base of it toward what the other end was wrapped around, which was Kokichi’s neck. Kokichi dangled from the rope like a lifeless puppet, eyes closed and body still.

Suddenly, Shuichi was transported back to the events that occurred simulation. He recalled Kaede in that same position before Monobear closed the piano’s fall board on her, impaling her with spikes. One by one, each student’s death flashed through his mind before ending at Kokichi’s tragic death, imagining how much pain he felt in his final moments before the press came down on him—

Shuichi found himself able to move as he raced over to him.

“Ouma-kun!” he shouted.

He clambered onto the bed and reached up, fumbling to undo the rope. With each movement, his body trembled. Fear spiked up from within him, his heart pounding in his ears.

He managed to undo the rope and take the noose off of Kokichi’s neck after a minute passed. He laid Kokichi on the bed.

“Ouma-kun! Ouma-kun, please answer me!” he shouted.

He shook Kokichi a little, earning him no response. His blood turned cold as numerous thoughts swirled about in his mind.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god...! He’s not responding, he thought to himself.

“119...I need to call 119...” he muttered out.

He quickly took out his phone, dialed 119, and put the call on speaker.

“119, what’s your emergency?”

“My name is Shuichi Saihara, I’m calling from Apartment 1012 at Dancing Pine Apartments in the Kamiyamachou district in Shibuya, Tokyo, and...” he hesitated, watching Kokichi’s motionless body before continuing. “My friend attempted to commit suicide.”

“What is your friend’s name and age?”

“His name is Kokichi Ouma and he is nineteen years old.”

“How did he try committing suicide?”

“By hanging himself. He used a noose, tied it to the fan, and hung himself from it.”

“How long has it been since he did it?”

“I do not know.” his throat began to tighten up, but he forced himself to continue speaking. “I just came back from work and I didn’t hear him making any noise. So, I went to check on him and that was when I saw him like that.”

“What condition is he in?”

“Well...” Shuichi reached over and checked for a pulse, hoping that he was at least still breathing.

It was faint, but he still had a pulse. He let out a sigh of relief as he spoke.

“It’s faint, but he has a pulse. He’s just unconscious.”

“Okay, stay on the phone with me, alright? Help is on the way, Mister Saihara.”

“Alright, thank you.”

He listened, waiting for any other questions the operator had for him. As he continued talking with the operator, he pulled Kokichi onto his lap.

Staring at Kokichi made him tremble all over again. Tears filled up in his eyes until they spilled out, hitting Kokichi’s cheeks.

“Ouma-kun...” he choked out, holding Kokichi’s head to his chest.

He sobbed as he ran his fingers through Kokichi’s hair.

Please, please, oh please, let Ouma-kun live, he silently prayed.

💜💜💜💜

Twelve hours came and went before Shuichi knew it.

Kokichi was rushed to the hospital and Shuichi was pulled to the side by the doctor and given a rundown of the situation. They were able to save Kokichi and had hooked him up to an IV for the time being. After wrapping up his conversation with the doctor, Shuichi found himself at Kokichi’s side, holding his hand.

The beeping of the heart monitor did little to calm his nerves as he traced Kokichi’s fingers with his thumb. He bounced his knee, the tears returning once more.

“Why am I such an idiot...I should’ve seen the signs. I should’ve noticed something was off. I should’ve tried harder to talk to you...” he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Kokichi’s hand. “Why do I always wait until it’s too late to reach out to you...?” he croaked out.

Like a faucet that refused to turn off, tears cascaded down Shuichi’s cheeks once again. Sobs shook his body as he brushed his lips against Kokichi’s fingers, kissing them softly.

Then, he felt Kokichi’s fingers twitch against his lips. He stopped sobbing, eyes widening in surprise. He rose his head and watched as Kokichi began to stir.

“Ouma-kun...!” he exclaimed.

Kokichi’s eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking up at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. He then turned his head, locking eyes with Shuichi.

“Sai...hara...chan...” he mumbled quietly.

Shuichi nodded his head.

“Yes, it’s me, Ouma-kun...” he stroked the back of Kokichi’s hand. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re awake...” he trailed off.

A weak chuckle came from Kokichi.

“Geez, Saihara-chan...” he rolled his gaze back up to the ceiling. “Why the hell am I still alive...?” he mumbled out loud.

Shuichi felt the temperature in the hospital room drop, his blood running cold.

“What...?” he breathed out.

“I literally shouldn’t be alive right now...I should’ve died. That would’ve made you happy.” Kokichi said.

“What are you saying, Ouma-kun?! I never wished for you to die!” Shuichi exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. Haven’t you forgotten what you said to me in the simulation? You basically told me to die.”

“That was the simulation! Yes, I have said some hurtful things to you. But, I never meant any of it!”

“Oh, sure. You toooooootally didn’t mean any of it.”

“Ouma-kun—“

“Stop lying to me. You know how much I hate liars, especially liars like you.”

“I’m not—“

“Yes, you are. What else would it be?”

Kokichi looked at Shuichi.

“Why exactly did you keep me alive? To make me suffer more? Or was it to continue pitying my sorry ass?” he asked.

“No! I never pitied you, Ouma-kun! And please, don’t make up assumptions like that on your own!” Shuichi said.

“Don’t make up assumptions like that on my own? I’m the one making assumptions? That’s rich, coming from the person who made every little assumption about me during the simulation. From what I said during the simulation to my intentions behind everything I did, you just assumed that I did it to “fuck with everybody” and that encouraging the killing game was just “for my own amusement.” Now, tell me, did you ever make an effort to truly understand why I did what I did?”

“Ouma-kun—“

“You didn’t, right? Of course you didn’t. Besides, why would you want to waste time on someone like me, anyway?”

Kokichi scoffed.

“You know, I find all of this so damn funny. Like, you hated me in the simulation. And now, you have me living with you. Why, exactly? It was because you felt bad. Nobody came for me after I woke up from the simulation and nobody was willing to take me in. You began to feel pity because I’m pretty much hopeless—“

“Ouma-kun, goddammit, can you please let me talk?!” Shuichi shouted.

Kokichi stopped, eyeing Shuichi in surprise. The door opened and a nurse poked her head inside.

“Can you please keep it down? You’re disturbing the other patients.” she requested.

“Ah...sorry about that.” Shuichi replied.

The nurse left soon after. Shuichi released a sigh, gripping Kokichi’s hand tightly.

“I never pitied you, Ouma-kun. I’m not that much of a lowlife that I would do something like taking you in because I pitied you. And yes, I said some really terrible things to you in the simulation. However, I never meant any of it. The simulation made it so that I said the exact opposite of what I truly wanted to say. When you stepped through the floorboards during the third murder investigation and Harukawa-san and I found you bleeding out on the floor, I was actually really terrified and concerned about you. But, the simulation made me feel indifferent about it. After everything that happened with Gonta-kun’s trial, I felt that you had a reason for doing what you did. But, the simulation made me say such hurtful things to you. And when you died...I wanted nothing more than to break down and cry. But, the simulation made me cry only for Momota-kun and not for you, as well. Everything that happened in the simulation is an incorrect representation of who I really am. I actually do care about you, Ouma-kun.” Shuichi said.

Kokichi opened his mouth to speak, but Shuichi continued.

“And please don’t say that I’m lying because I sure as hell am not. I really do care about you, Ouma-kun. The reason why I brought you to my place was because I wanted to try and fix things between us. I knew it was going to be difficult with how you went out of your way to avoid me, but I still wanted to try. I was hoping that eventually, we’d be able to talk things out and maybe start over. So, when I saw you hanging from the ceiling fan with that noose around your neck, I grew terrified! I kept thinking to myself that you were going to leave me again, that you were going to die and once again, I did nothing to stop it! I’ve been beating myself up over everything that happened and I...” Shuichi felt himself choking up. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I arrived home a minute later and you really did die...” he trailed off.

Hot tears trailed down his cheeks once more. He reached up to wipe them away, sniffling.

Kokichi stared at Shuichi, eyes wide.

“Saihara-chan...” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you. Looking at our current situation, this isn’t a good time for me to saying these kinds of things.” Shuichi sniffled. “Ideally, I wanted to have this talk when we were both in a proper state of mind, but...” he trailed off.

“Saihara-chan, I—“ Shuichi cut Kokichi off.

“You don’t need to force yourself to say anything. I’ll wait until you’re feeling better and are willing to talk things out with me. Until then, I want you to promise me this,” Shuichi released Kokichi’s hand and he extended his pinky finger out to him, “please don’t try and leave me again.” he said.

Kokichi kept quiet for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being the beeping from the heart monitor. He then nodded.

“I promise. I won’t try and leave you again.” he said.

He reached out and linked his pinky with Shuichi’s, weakly tugging on it. A soft smile touched Shuichi’s lips.

“Thank you.” he said, pulling Kokichi’s hand closer and pressing his lips to his knuckles.

Shuichi watched as a smile crossed Kokichi’s lips. His heart skipped a beat, noting how genuine Kokichi’s smile looked.

“No...thank you, Saihara...chan...” he mumbled before closing his eyes, falling back asleep.

His pinky finger slowly unhooked itself from Shuichi’s, his hand dropping down to his side on the bed. Shuichi covered Kokichi’s hand with his own as he stood and leaned in towards him. With his other hand, he brushed Kokichi’s hair back and he pressed a kiss to Kokichi’s forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Ouma-kun.” he whispered.

He pulled away and released Kokichi’s hand, turning and heading out of the room. He turned, giving Kokichi one last look before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

88 ralbert angst that could include one dying?

I think the prompt was “this isn’t goodbye” 

hold onto your hats y’all this ones a ride

__________

ship: ralbert

genre: angst

warnings: fhakalandha alberts a marine, severe injury, hospitals, race is a mess, unconsciousness, tears, lots of tears

word count: 3175

editing: a lil bit

__________

Race hug up the phone and placed his head in his hands. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His mind drifted back to the last time he had seen Albert, about six months ago when he had been leaving for deployment. Race had been a mess, even after years of Albert being in the Marines he always lost it right before he left. There was so much that could go wrong. And what did Albert say to him every time before he boarded the plane?

“I’ll be back, babe. This isn’t goodbye.”

Race fumbled with his phone, punching in several wrong numbers before finally dialing the right one.

“Hey, Racer,” Spots voice came through the line.

Race opened his mouth to say hi, but no words came out.

“Race?” Spot asked after a few seconds of silence. “Is everything okay?”

“I-I got a call,” Race whispered. “Its Albie.”

“Shit. Okay, okay,” Race heard him grabbing his keys. “I’m headed over right now, do you want me to stay on?”

“Yes,” Race squeaked.

“Okay, is he alive?” Spot asked. Race could hear his intake of breath. Spot was also a Marine, he was just home on leave right now. He had seen firsthand what could happen to people and had lost a few friends over the years.

“Y-yes? I-I think so? It wasn’t really clear….” Race flopped back onto the couch, forcing down his tears.

“What do you mean it wasn’t clear? Tell me exactly what they told you.” Spots voice was gentle and it calmed Race down slightly.

“They said there was a mission, and he was injured on it. They didn’t say how bad,” Race took a deep breath. “They’re bringing him back to the states. Should arrive late tonight.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Race,” Spot said carefully, “if they’re bringing him back he’s probably hurt real bad.”

“I know,” Race said quietly. “They said they had him at the military base hospital for a few hours and now they’re sending him back.” Race’s voice hitched.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright?” Spot said quickly. “Albert’s tough. He’ll make it.”

“I know, I know,” Race squeezed his eyes shut. “But what if he’s not? We’re supposed to get married, Spot. I don’t wanna marry anyone else.” Subconsciously, Race rubbed his fingers against his engagement ring.

“I know buddy,” Spot said. “Can you let me in?”

“Yeah.” Race disconnected the call and walked to the door of his apartment, opened it and all but fell into Spots arms.

Spot gripped him tightly and let Races tears soak through his shirt. “It’s gonna be okay,” Spot whispered pulling race closer to his chest.

Race nodded into Spots chest as he tried in vain to stop his tears. “He’s too young to die, Spottie. I need him,” he hiccuped.

“If he’s survived as many missions as he has, he can survive this one, I’m sure of it,” Spot soothed. “He would never leave you without saying goodbye.”

This brought a fresh wave of tears to Race’s eyes as Spot looped his arm around his waist, guiding him over to the couch.

“They’re going to call you when he’s back on American soil, right?” Spot asked and Race gave a weak nod. “Is there anything you want to do between now and then?”

“I don’t know,” Race mumbled. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything, not when his fiancée was half a world away and terribly injured.

“Have you eaten anything recently?”

Race shook his head. It was coming up on dinner time, and all he had had that day was a piece of toast and a bowl of chips.

“Okay, I’m gonna order some Chinese food, and we’re gonna watch some bad tv, got it?” Spot didn’t wait for Races answer as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to place the order.

Race pulled his knees into his chest and twisted his ring nervously. Albert would be fine, wouldn’t he?

•••

It was nearly 2 am by the time Spot lead Race through the doors of the military hospital. The pit that was forming in Races stomach was getting larger by the second. Albert was so close to him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see him. But he had to be strong and push through it, for Albert.

“Race,” Spot said, snapping his fingers in front of Races face, causing him to jump. He looked a little worried. Apparently he had found out information about Albert. Race’s stomach tightened even more. “Let’s go sit down, okay?”

Race let Spot guide him over to one of the waiting room chairs. As soon as he was seated he spoke up. “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Spot said and Race let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “He’s alive. They’re not quite sure if he’s gonna make it though. He’s been through a lot and he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Race took in a shaky breath and fiddled with his ring. “What happened?” he whispered.

Spot took a deep breath. “Well, most of it’s classified. But, he was apparently scouting somewhere with a few others when they got ambushed. He got shot in the knee. And then there was an explosion.”

Race buried his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening.

“The force of the explosion knocked him back pretty hard,” Spot explained, placing a reassuring hand on Races leg. “He’s got 8 broken ribs and some internal bleeding plus some damage to his lungs. Three major shrapnel wounds from the explosion in his left forearm, hip and side plus dozens of smaller ones on his arms, chest and face, some of which got infected. He has some temporary hearing loss from the explosion in his left ear. And,” Spot took a deep breath, “they had to amputate his left leg above the knee. There was too much damage and he wasn’t going to be able to use it again so they made the executive decision.”

Race’s eyes swam with tears and he threw his arms around Spots neck. Spot held Race in a comforting embrace until the tears stopped.

“Can I see him?” Race asked hoarsely.

“Yeah, they said that’s okay,” Spot said, pulling Race up after him and beginning to walk through the maze of hospital rooms. Vaguely Race wondered why he knew the way until he realized that Albert was probably not the only person he had visited here.

Spot paused outside of door 314. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Race stared at the door intensely, trying to prepare himself for what was on the other side. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, I’m going to go find a doctor and talk to them more about his condition, okay?” Spot said, clapping Race on the shoulder.

“Okay,” Race said.

“You call me if you need me. And Race,” Spots voice grew quiet. “You should say goodbye. Just in case.”

Race felt his eyes water and he nodded before twisting the knob and stepping inside. He shut the door behind him and froze in place.

Albert, his beautiful Albert, was laying on the bed. The most glaring thing was the awkward space under the covers where his left leg should have been. His entire chest was wrapped in layer upon layer of thick white bandages as was his left forearm. Dime sized shrapnel wounds littered his exposed arms and shoulders and there was one on his cheek, chin and jawline. There was an IV and a blood transfusion line in his right hand. The oxygen mask he was wearing made him seem small and frail, accentuating his shallow breaths, which would hitch every now and then. There was a feeding tube going into his nose. Next to his bed, a heart rate monitor beeped every few seconds.

Somehow Race found himself standing right next to Albert’s bedside. His feet must have brought him over by themselves. He dragged one of the plastic chairs from the side of the room to the edge of the bed.

“Hi Albie,” he whispered tearfully, pushing his messy hair out of his face. “It’s good to finally see you again, although I wish it was under different circumstances.”

What had Spot told him to do? Oh right, say goodbye. The very thought of doing such a thing absolutely gutted Race. They were supposed to spend the rest of their lives together. They were supposed to get married. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

No. Screw that. Race didn’t need anyone to marry them. He could do it himself. There was no way he was letting Albert die before he put a ring on his finger. Hesitantly, he removed his engagement ring, fingering the smooth silver band while talked.

“So, Spot said I should say goodbye to you, just incase, cause, well, we’re not really sure if you’re going to make it.” Race bushed away his tears. “And I know it isn’t at all how we wanted it, but I am marrying you before you die, whether it’s official or not.”

Race gently lifted Albert’s left hand. “Albert Dasilva,” he whispered tearfully “I take you to be my lawfully wedded dumbass of a husband, even though you're stupid and really cute and an idiot. I'll be with you through even more shit than we've already been through, since we've already been through sickness and health and...this. I love you so much, I don’t even know what to compare it to. I just- I need you and please don’t die on me please. Who am I going to be stupid with if you’re not here? Just hold on for me, please?”

Tears dripped onto Albert’s bandages as Race carefully slid his ring onto Albert’s ring finger. Then he pressed a long kiss to Albert’s forehead.

“Don’t go, Albie,” Race pleaded. “This can't be goodbye.”

•••

It had been a week of Albert being in the hospital. Race had been home exactly three times to shower and sleep. Albert was doing a little bit better. He had been in and out of surgery for his leg and ribs the last few days, but he had a good chance of making it provided he woke up soon. The doctors said there wasn’t anything else they could do for him. He had been through so much trauma that his body and mind just needed time.

Race had been there the whole time, only leaving his side when absolutely necessary. And his ring remained on Albert’s finger. Race had decided that he liked the way it looked on him and couldn’t wait until they could get married for real.

But in order for them to do that Albert had to wake up first.

Race had his hand loosely intertwined with Albert’s and was tracing light patterns around his healing shrapnel wounds when Albert finally stirred.

A soft groan escaped his lips and Race’s head shot upright, his heart beating a mile a minute. “Albie?”

Albert’s eyes began to flutter and he took in a sharp breath, which was accentuated by the rattling of the oxygen through his cannula. There was another pained groan.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Race reassured, thumbing Albert’s cheek lightly. “Take your time, babe.”

Albert’s head rolled toward Race and he could see his eyes moving back and forth beneath his eyelids. His facial features scrunched slightly and he made a sound of discontent.

Race gently squeezed his hand and almost sobbed in relief when Albert’s fingers twitched beneath his. “That’s it babe, I got you. There’s no need to rush.” I’ve waited this long, I can wait a few more minutes.

Albert let out what sounded like a painful cough, and winced slightly. His eyelids fluttered some more and Race could see that he was trying desperately to open them.

“‘ace?”

Race’s eyes began to water at the sound of his fiancées faint and broken voice.

“Yes Albie, I’m right here. I got you, don't worry,” Race soothed in the most calming, steady voice he could muster.

“‘ace?” Albert asked again, finally pushing open his eyes. “You shouldn’ be ‘ere. Why are you….” He looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. “Where am I? The las’ thing I rem’ber is that explosion an’ then….” He looked up at Race again. “Am I dead?”

“No babe, you’re not dead,” Race smiled. “But try not to talk so much okay? You’re hurt real bad and I don’t want you to make it worse.”

Albert nodded.

“You’re back in the states,” Race explained slowly. “There was some kind of mission and you got really hurt and they had to fly you home. You’ve been here for a week now. You- you almost died Albie. I said goodbye to you and everything. You almost died.” Race forced down his tears, Albert didn’t need to see him crying, not now.

“Hey,” Albert whispered, looking up at Race, “it won’t happen again.”

Race let out a loud groan and a shadow of a smile tugged at Albert’s lips.

“You're such an idiot,” Race moaned, playfully slapping Albert on the arm. Unluckily for him it was the one with the massive shrapnel wound.

Albert let out a loud yelp of pain. His eyes flew shut and his breathing came in short rapid bursts.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so so sorry,” Race apologized. What was he supposed to do? Did he call for a nurse? Did he try to comfort him? “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No,” Albert choked out, wincing slightly as he opened his eyes again. “I’ve been through worse.”

“I know babe,” Race sighed, gently touching his face, “but that doesn’t matter right now. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Albert reassured him. “But you know what would make it better?”

“What babe?” Race asked, gently pulling his fingers through Albert’s knotted hair.

“A kiss.”

Race rolled his eyes and planted a quick kiss to Albert’s forehead. Albert whined with dissatisfaction.

“No, a real one,” he complained. “I haven’t seen you in over half a year, I want a real kiss.”

“Fiiiine,” Race said with fake annoyance. He had been wanting to kiss Albert since the moment he saw him again, but he held back, wanting him to be conscious for that event.

The kiss wasn’t their most romantic or graceful. Race had to be careful not to knock Albert’s cannula or his feeding tube. Albert couldn’t exactly move, which made for an awkward angle, but they made it work. Their lips pressed gently together and Race felt Albert sigh with content. Albert eventually broke the kiss because his lungs couldn’t handle one of their usual makeout sessions at the moment. Race pressed their foreheads together.

“I missed you,” Race whispered, staring into Albert’s warm brown eyes.

“I missed you too.” Albert reached up his uninjured arm to stroke Race’s hair.

“I was so scared that I lost you,” Race continued. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to experience, please don’t do that again.”

“Well, now I physically can’t so…” Albert winked at him.

“AL!” Race jumped back, glaring at his fiancée. “That’s not funny!”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Albert said quickly. “It’s just, I don’t really know how to deal with all this. I know this must have been hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Hard on me?” Race asked in disbelief, gently holding his hand. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll heal,” Albert said, waving him off. “You almost had to watch me die. That’s gonna stay with you forever.”

“Yeah, but you're the one who lost your leg,” Race blurted without thinking.

Albert’s facial expression darkened and he waited a few seconds before responding. “....what?” he whispered.

Race took Albert’s hand in both of his. “You got shot in the knee,” he explained slowly. “There was too much damage and infection. Albie, they-” he paused looking away from Albert’s confused expression. “They had to amputate your left leg.”

Albert was quiet for several long moments, processing what he had just found out.

“Are you okay baby?” Race asked after almost a minute of silence. “I know that was a lot to take in. It’s okay to be upset or sad. The doctors said that’s normal.”

Albert shook his head slightly. “Well, at least you’ll have more closet space now since I’ll be throwing out all my left shoes.”

Race couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh my god.” He placed his head in his hands in frustration. Leave it to Albert to find a way to make light of this situation.

“Antonio,” Albert said unsteadily, and Race’s head shot up. Albert only called him that when something was wrong.

“What is it babe? Is something wrong? Do you want me to grab someone?” Race stared at Albert’s sad face with alarm. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but then again, Albert was exceptionally good at hiding things. Race was halfway out of his chair when Albert spoke up again in a voice so soft and broken he barely heard it.

“Where’s your ring?”

Race paused, sitting back in his chair, his right hand subconsciously rubbing his empty ring finger. “I-”

“No, I get it,” Albert’s voice hardened. “You don’t want to marry someone like me. I’ll just be an inconvenience to you. You didn’t need to stick around. You could have just left when you found out I was going to be disabled.”

“What?” Race asked, confusion clouding his face. “No. I still want to marry you. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what your condition is. I will always want you. This last week has been hell, not knowing if you were going to survive or not. I never want to experience something like that again.”

Albert opened his mouth, but Race cut him off. “My ring is on your finger,” he whispered, trying in vain to force down his tears as he lifted Albert’s left hand so he could see. “I thought you were going to die, and I wasn’t about to let that happened before I got the chance to marry you. So I used my ring, said some tearful half assed vows, and put it on your finger.”

“Tonio…” Albert whispered, tears pricking in his eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Race shrugged. “It was pretty sad, actually. I’m pretty sure I was sobbing. I think I called you an idiot.”

“How dare you?” Albert exclaimed with mock horror. “After all I’ve been through?”

Race let out a watery laugh, leaning down to press his lips to Albert’s again. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Albert smiled. “Me neither, but it might have to get postponed, since I want to actually be able to walk down the aisle.”

Race grinned. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”

__________

oooooooof alright shoutout to fizz for coming up with all of Albert’s injuries, just remember y’all she decided what happened to Finch, this is what you’re dealing with

also did you really think I was gonna kill him ?? c’monnnnn

anyway that was a ride

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@ben-cook-can-cook@the-woild-is-my-what-now@elmer-s-s0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@galaxy-trees13@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@imjusttheoutgoingsidekick@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@hellasoulless@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@so-up-rolls-a-riot-van@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites

@that-one-newskid

@not-a-scab

[reflections-in-tea-cups]

Shadow

tw: pet death

We lost our beautiful, lively, shy, affectionate, panther of a house cat on Monday, March 25, 2019. While I hope the details of the past month fade from my memory, I know some of you are shocked at the news and want to know what happened. This story is still too painful to retell, so I’m putting it here.

It’s a long story with a tragic end. It’s not my best writing, but editing it further is beyond me right now. 

Shadow came into our lives on Feb. 13th, 2015. We went to the animal shelter to look at a dog – instead, we came home with an eight-year-old black cat. We thought he was a gentle old man, but as soon as he stepped out of the crate we realized they had sent us home with a panther. He was thirteen pounds of pure muscle, and the first thing he did was jump up six feet to hide on the top shelf of my closet.

Despite his size and athleticism, he was incredibly gentle and shy. He hid under the bed the first two weeks that he spent with us, only coming out after lots of cajoling. Even then, he’d often stop just at the edge of the bed so we could reach in and pet him. Once he was comfortable with us, he’d throw himself at our feet for pets and scritches, rolling around so we could get at his belly. He was always deferential to our resident female cat, despite having at least three pounds on her. He was playful and sweet, jumping up walls to catch at laser lights and crawling under the covers for morning snuggles. You always knew what his favorite toy was, as he’d leave it next to (or, more commonly, in) his food dish.

I’m not sure when he stopped eating. He still cried for food every morning and night, and he still went to the bowl and began lapping it up. We noticed that there was more wet food being left over, but that happens sometimes and it usually isn’t a problem – maybe one or both cats don’t care for that flavor of wet food, or maybe they got tired of it, or maybe they’re eating less because everyone is less active in winter. They always had access to dry food, so I didn’t worry.

I was shocked when I picked him up in late February and realized I could feel his bones. He was always a healthy, muscular cat – but suddenly he felt frail and old. Concerned, I made an vet appointment; the soonest available was two weeks away. Luck was on our side, and I got a call a few days later saying they could see us March 8th.

At the vet, we found our healthy-at-thirteen-pounds boy was now under ten. Blood work showed signs of pancreatitis, dehydration, and anemia. X-rays didn’t find anything surprising, just an empty stomach. He got anti-nausea meds, pain meds, and fluids. They sent us back home with some prescription food, instructions to monitor his food and water intake, and a blood recheck appointment set up for a week later.

His appetite increased for a few days. He still wasn’t eating enough to gain any weight, but any progress was hopeful. But by Wednesday (the 13th) he was back to barely eating anything and I called and got him an appointment for the next day. The 14th was terrifying – his weight had continued to drop, and as had his red blood cell count. They recommended hospitalization for IV fluids and medication, and to monitor his eating. I cried signing the papers to leave him there for the day.

When I went to pick him up that night, they said he hadn’t really improved and they recommended overnight hospitalization. Our vet isn’t a 24 hour clinic, so that involved transferring him to a local emergency vet. The ER vet reassured us that pancreatitis is often treated by a few days of pushing fluids, so we should remain hopeful. She also offered to do an ultrasound on his abdomen, to further look for anything else that could be causing his symptoms. No one really knew why he was so anemic, but maybe the ultra sound would see if/where he was bleeding internally.

After a sleepless night, the ER vet called to tell us Shadow had done well – they’d gotten him to eat a little, and the ultra sound hadn’t found anything too alarming or conclusive. The only thing they noted was an enlarged lymph node. We were told another day of hospitalization would be ideal, but we might be able to take him home that night. It was with a much lighter heart that we brought him back to our regular vet, giving them the overnight report and excited to get our healthy boy back soon.

However, our rollercoaster took a sudden dive. The vet reported that he hadn’t eaten and had only gotten more lethargic as the day progressed. The next diagnostic step they recommended was exploratory surgery, during which they would also insert a feeding tube so we could ensure he was getting the calories he needed. At this point, they were very worried he was about to enter liver failure from starvation.

We decided to go ahead with the surgery, which was scheduled for the next morning. We took him home that night for lots of cuddles – lapped up our affection all night. He was so happy to be back in his familiar environment, and our other cat also made it clear she was thrilled he was home.

Taking him to the vet the next morning was a tense affair. After finally being home, he wanted nothing to do with his cat carrier and let us know it. Three hours later I got a call from the vet – he’d done very well in surgery and was waking up comfortably! They had a new diagnosis based on the state of his liver and gall-bladder: feline triaditis. While they did take a couple biopsies, they were pretty confident we were on the right track. They said the prognosis was good but the at-home care would be intensive; not only were we responsible for his calorie intake through the feeding tube until he began to eat again, but there were also five medications that needed to be given once or twice a day. They still hadn’t found a source for the anemia, but hoped it would recoup with everything else.

We were thrilled to bring him home and dedicated to getting him back up to health. His food was specially prepared each day and given to him 4-5 times daily. He had to be quarantined from our other cat and dog for a while, so he was confined to the spare bedroom. Within three days, he was starting to eat on his own and was feisty enough to try and escape to the rest of the apartment whenever I opened the door. His stitches were healing well, and we got a onesie for him to wear instead of the hated cone (not that he liked it much better). The vet checked in that Monday, and was almost as excited as I was to hear how well he was doing. We started letting him explore the rest of the apartment with Leira and Kenai when we were home to monitor him, so he got more stimulation and got to hang out in all his favorite spots. Everything was looking up.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. On Friday (the 22nd) I noticed that his eating was declining. We had just gotten him up to full calories through the feeding tube, so I figured it would take a while for his appetite to surpass what we were giving him. However, his appetite didn’t pick back up, and he began showing increased signs of nausea when I fed him. He also felt unusually warm. On Monday I called the vet, and left a message asking if this was normal recovery behavior. I spent the afternoon at home with him, waiting for the vet to call. They didn’t, so I called and asked again that evening – this time someone went back to talk to the vet in person. We were advised to take him to ER.

We went back to the ER where he had been hospitalized just ten days before. After a quick physical exam (where we saw he had lost even more weight, and he was feverish), they took him back for more bloodwork. He was extraordinarily anemic – his red blood cell count had decreased by half from its previous low levels. We could take him to a clinic that could do a blood transfusion – the nearest one was an hour away by car, and he’d have to stay there for at least 24 hours to make sure his body didn’t reject the blood. And since we didn’t know what was causing the anemia, it was likely the transfusion would only buy us a little time.

The next diagnostic step would be to test a sample of his bone marrow, a process that would involve putting him under anesthesia. There were three main suspects for his anemia at this point: a virus attacking his red blood cells and/or bone marrow, an autoimmune disorder (his body attacking his red blood cells), or cancer. We were advised that was a toss of the dice whether or not it was something treatable; even if it was, it would be extremely intensive and difficult for him.

We took some time to hold him close and think about our options. His options. For the last few weeks (and the last four years) we had discussed always trying to do what was best for him. And as he fell asleep in my arms, that most difficult choice became clear.

The vet told us we could take him home overnight if we wanted, but it we weren’t going to do a transfusion we should bring him back within 24 hours to put him to sleep. I didn’t want him to go through two more car rides (his most hated activity) and what would clearly be a painful and stressful night – we decided it would be best to let him go peacefully that night. He’d had a good day cuddling on the couch with me, Leira, and Kenai (one of the rare times I actually got a picture of him and the dog together). Luis and I held him for at least an hour, telling him we loved him and soaking in his sweetness.  Finally we knew we couldn’t delay any longer. Luis held me and I held Shadow as the vet administered the anesthesia, lulling him into sleep for the last time.

Shadow was so much more than we ever could have expected. I’ll never be able to describe him adequately, or what he meant to us. We will miss him forever, and cherish the time we did get to spend with him.

[writing-parker]

Walk Me Home, Ch. 1

Summary/Pairing: Joanna Taylor finds out Tony Stark is actually her dad. All the Avengers will be featured in this, but ultimately this is a Peter Parker X OC pairing. 

Word Count: 10k

this will eventually be rated M

A/N Hi all! So for the past couple of weeks i’ve had this idea for a fic in my head. I’m really not sure how any of this works, but it was really fun to write. Please comment and let me know what you think! There should be another chapter soon.

This has only been edited by me, so excuse any errors. 

_________________________________________________________

               She remembers the first time she saw Peter Parker. It’s really a surprise she did, considering she met him the day her life fell apart. Maybe it was his eyes- soft and brown and warm and looking at her with an intensity she wasn’t used to. She met him at a time in her life she didn’t even know she needed him, but eventually she would understand.

She was 16 and all she ever wanted was to make music. It was all she could remember dreaming about since she was 7, when her mom gave her an old guitar for her birthday. She learned four chords and wrote her first song that day. After that everything fell into place, and by the time she was 16 she was on her first world tour, opening for some of the biggest stars in the world. She was living the life she always dreamed of- until the day it came crashing down around her.

               “Stage IV pancreatic cancer,” She heard the words but she couldn’t wrap her mind around them, like a foreign language in her ears. Her mother, so strong always, was crying softly, but Jo stared straight ahead and arranged her face to in a mask of indifference. Now she needed to be strong for her dying mother.

               “So what’s the next step, what are treatment options?” Jo’s mind started moving a thousand miles a minute.

               The doctor gave her mother a pointed look, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” she said, “I’ll leave you alone now.” She got up to leave the room.

               “Wait, where are you going, we have to figure out a plan,” Jo yelled after the doctor.

               “Joanna.” Her mother grabbed her hand. “Calm down.”

               “Calm down? You’re kidding.”

               “Honey, I’ve known for a while. You and I need to talk,” Joanna’s mother patted the space next to her on the hospital bed, but Jo walked over to the window and looked idly. They were at Mount Sinai in Union Square in New York City- the world moved so quickly on the streets below her but Joanna felt like she was moving in slow motion.

               “Mom this is the best hospital in New York City, which is the best hospital in the United States, which pretty much makes it the best hospital in the whole world.” She sounded desperate even to her own ears, “We’re going to figure this out, it’s going to be fine,” She started pacing, growing frantic.

               “Joanna.” Her mom said again softly

               “What? It’s not like money is an issue. The record and the tour are selling so well-” tears started to well up in her eyes

               “Jo,” her mom said again, more firmly this time.

               “I can’t lose you.” The young girl’s voice finally broke. She found herself in her mother’s arms, “You can’t leave me,” She sobbed. It was always Jo and her mom. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was alive, and that he didn’t want her. She never met her dad and never cared to ask about him. She didn’t have any other siblings. Joanna and her mom, always, no one else allowed. Things were going to change.

               “Baby, I’ll never leave you,” Her mom squeezed her hard. “I’ll always be with you, even when you can’t see me.”

               And just like that, over the course of 30 minutes in a hospital room in New York City, her entire life changed. Jo allowed herself two days to be sad. To wallow and cry and scream at god for doing this to her, oh god why did it have to be her. And then it was time to plan and prepare for the worst.

               Her mother insisted she finish her tour. There’s only three weeks left, baby, her mom had said, you have to finish this tour. So she did, but it wasn’t the same. The doctor said that it wasn’t safe for her mom to travel, so she went on her own, and she got used to being alone. She was already used to media attention- she was young and beautiful and on a stadium tour- America’s sweetheart, Hollywood’s new golden girl. These were things that the media called her, but she just felt like a girl with a dying mom. So she kept singing, and found solace in the thousands of people singing the words she wrote alongside her. It was a distraction she desperately needed.

               But then it was over, and the stages were packed up and all the confetti had fallen and it was time to go back to New York. Jo stepped out of a cab on 14th street and was immediately swarmed by paparazzi, but she kept her head down and made it up to her mom’s room.

               The sight of her mother almost knocked her over. It had only been three weeks but it was easy to tell how sick she really was. Her already thin mother must have lost 25lbs. Her face was gaunt, and she wore a ballcap to cover her thinning hair from the treatment.

               “Hi, mom,” Joanna kissed her on the cheek. Jo found herself telling her mom about the last several weeks of tour, all of it spilling out. How the crowd in Dallas was the biggest she ever played for, and at every show more and more people knew the words to her songs. She went on until it seemed trivial, and she noticed her mom stopped responding to her stories.

               “You’re quiet,” Jo observed.

               “We need to talk,” Her mom said.

               “About wha-” Jo started, but was interrupted by a knock on the door from a nurse.  “Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you whenever you’re ready,”

               “Give us 10 minutes,” her mom answered.

               “Mr. Stark? Tony Stark? Why would he be here to see you? Mom what’s going on,” Jo waited for her mom to correct her. Why would Tony Stark be there to see her mom? She was confused and nervous and stressed and a thousand other things. She had grown used to feeling this way, she supposed, but this time she really wanted to know what the hell was going on.

               “Joanna, honey, we both know I’m not going to be here much longer,” Jo opened her mouth to say don’t say that, but her mom sushed her, “I’ve been thinking about who is going to take care of you when I’m gone. And I’ve put a lot of thought into this decision, and I think it will be what’s best for you, best for everyone in this situation.”

               “What does that have to do with Tony Stark, mom?” She asked a little more harshly than she meant to, but nothing was adding up.

               “I didn’t think it was going to be this hard,” She barely heard Eleanor say under her breath, “But here we go: Tony Stark is your father, baby. And when I… when I’m not here anymore he’s going to be your guardian.” The words fell out of her mother’s mouth, and everything became blurry to Joanna.

               “My guardian? What about Aunt Lisa or-”

               Her mom cuts her off and explains that they’re so far away and they have young children and they can’t be here for you like Mr. Stark can. But she’s confused because her mom told her that he father never wanted her. But Jo’s mom doesn’t mention that for some reason.

               Tony Stark. Her father? Her mother kept on explaining but Jo didn’t hear the words. The man she saw on the news growing up, the arms-dealer billionaire who destroyed all of his weapons to do good. Iron man.

               She was still lost in her thoughts when there was a light knock, and Tony Stark himself appeared in the doorway. He gave Joanna a look she didn’t fully understand- curiosity, sadness… longing, maybe- before looking past her to her mother.

               “Eleanor,” He says quietly and strides over to her bedside and kisses her cheek, “It’s good to see you again, despite the circumstances,” Tony takes a step back and looks at Jo again.

               “Hey, kid,” He says timidly, “I’m a big fan.”

               Joanna is confused for a moment before she remembered she was a popstar. She still thought it was weird when people recognized her. Despite paparazzi following her and more than 5 million followers on Instagram, she was still used to being invisible to men like Tony Stark.

               Jo says the first thing that comes to her mind, “I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck is going on?”

               Tony’s eyes widen, “I guess it’s too soon to ask you to call me dad, huh,” He says to Jo before turning back to Eleanor, “So I take it she doesn’t know…anything?” He assumes correctly.

               “She is still in the room,” Jo snaps angrily at Tony.

               “So feisty. Just like you El.” Tony reasons. “Look, Jo, can I call you Jo?” He doesn’t wait for Joanna to answer, “Look, this is hard for us to explain.”

               Eleanor interrupts, “Tony has nothing to explain sweetheart. This is all my doing. I found out I was sick 8 months ago, Joanna,” Jo starts to do the math in her head, but her mom continues for her, “Yes, the week before you left for tour. And at first the doctors were optimistic,” Eleanor goes on, explaining, “That’s why I missed the first month of tour, I wasn’t working, I was getting treatment.”

               “It didn’t take long for them to realize nothing was taking, nothing could treat this cancer. So they gave me options. Either stay here and keep poisoning my body with radiation, or spend my last healthy months with you, on your first tour. I had to go with you, baby,”

               Joanna doesn’t realize that there’s tears running down her cheeks until her voice cracks, “What if they could have helped you, mom?” It feels all wrong to be doing this in front of Tony Stark, but she keeps going, “You should have told me, I would have-”    

                “You would have what, canceled your tour?” Eleanor shakes her head, “Over my dead body,” Jo freezes, Tony snorts, and Eleanor smiles softly, “That was a really bad figure of speech,” Joanna cracks a sad smile.

               “That doesn’t explain Mr. Stark-,” Joanna says to her mom.

               “Call me Tony,” He interjects, but Jo ignores him, not looking away from her mom.

               “- Have you always known, I mean I guess he’s always been my father but why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you tell me he didn’t want me? Why did you call him now?” Joanna keeps spouting off questions too quickly for anyone to answer. She feels Tony Stark’s eyes on her.

               “You told her I didn’t want her?” He says to Eleanor, not taking his eyes off Joanna, “So she spends her whole life thinking her dad doesn’t love her and I spend her whole life not knowing she exists?! How is that fair Eleanor?”

               It was all too much for Joanna to wrap her head around, “I need to not be in this room,” She announced before walking out the door, knowing how unfair it was that her mother couldn’t run after her.

It was late, past visiting hours and she found herself roaming the hospital until she found a quiet place to collect her thoughts. She pressed her back against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the floor. Her mom was dying. Tony Stark was her father. Oh, god, the press is going to have a field day with that, she groaned internally. Her mom had lied to her about her dad not wanting her. Could she be angry at her dying mother, should she be angry at her mother? Things were never easy growing up, and this whole time a billionaire was her father? It felt like the world had stopped spinning.

She heard footsteps before she heard his voice, “Hey, kiddo,” Tony Stark said, sitting cross-legged in front of her. Jo picked at the skin on her thumb, “This really sucks,”

She wiped the tears from her face and looked up at Tony Stark. Jo gave him a smile, “This sucks so much,” She said in a small voice.

“We’re going to figure this out,” He assured her, putting a hand on her knee. Joanna nodded and let Tony help her up. The older man put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her.

Jo cringed under the scrutiny “What are you looking at?”

“My daughter,” Tony breathed, reverent. He paused before he said, “You have my eyes,”

“Mom always said so,”

Tony’s phone rings and the moment is ruined “Do you have to get that?” Jo asks him. Tony pulls his phone out quickly and checks the caller ID. He must decide whoever it is is unimportant, because he silences the device and puts it back in his pocket.

“No, I can let this one go,” He says to Jo, “We have a lot of talking to do. Let’s go back down to your mom’s room.”

And they talked. Eleanor explained everything. She and Tony had a brief fling in the 90s, during his playboy phase, which resulted in Joanna. She decided that she didn’t want to tell Tony and end up forcing him to marry her just because she was expecting a baby. So she didn’t tell Tony and she lied to Joanna. At the time it made sense, she told them.

But now it just seemed like a cruel joke. They talked in the hospital room for a long time, until Eleanor fell asleep clutching Jo’s hand. A nurse finally came in and addressed Joanna and Tony.

“Alright, you guys, it’s time to head out. Ms. Taylor needs her rest,” The woman shooed them out of the room. Jo and Tony stood outside Eleanor’s room, staring that their shoes.

“Um, so where are you staying, do you need a car? It’s pretty late,” Tony asked her.

“I have a Loft in Bushwick I record in, there’s a bedroom. I was planning on staying there.” Jo answered him. Truthfully, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. “I can take the train, it’s like a block away.”

“Please let me get you a car, is it even safe out there?” Tony looked concerned.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you’ve been my dad for all of 4 hours. I’ve done just fine without you for 16 years. I can get on the fucking train and go home myself,” Jo snapped at him.   The two stand eye to eye for a few moments, both testing the others boundaries.

Tony took a step back and raised his arms in defeat, “Please be safe,” He sighs. The girl turns on her heels and walks down the hall, towards the elevator. Tony Stark stands there for a while watching Jo, watching his daughter walk away from him.

He never imagined he would feel this way when Eleanor called him all those months ago. She was sick, she had told him, and she needed help. She had had a baby more than 16 years ago and it was his. Joanna Taylor. He recognized her name, but didn’t know much about the girl. She was a singer- that much he knew. There was that one song of hers that was always stuck in his head, and we’ll never be royals, it don’t run in our blood… he hummed quietly to himself.

He had picked up a magazine with her face on it a few months ago (He actually bought two). Joanna Taylor, Exclusive Interview: Pop’s New It Girl Tells All. After a few moments of reading, Tony Stark felt his hands start to shake. Here was this girl that was half him and she had been out there for 16 years and he had no clue. He couldn’t breathe for it, and here he was reading interviews about her sudden fame, and how red carpets make her uncomfortable because she’s still getting used to how she looked and she didn’t like it when people looked at her. She gets that from her mom, he thought with a wry laugh.

But now Jo’s mom was dying. And for some reason Eleanor wanted him to know Jo. To care for her. He was sure he would screw it up somehow, but over the course of the last four hours in the hospital he had fallen in love with the girl, his daughter, and he would spend the rest of his life making up for lost time.

                  “This is Myrtle Avenue-Wyckoff Avenue, the next stop-” Jo was pulled from her thoughts as the automated voice from the subway announced they had made it to her stop. She spotted two girls, starting her way, and noticed the way their eyes lit up the moment they recognized her. One opened her mouth to say something to Jo, but she coyly lifted her finger to her lips, as if to say “shh”. The girls giggled and nodded, like it was their secret, something they only shared with Joanna Taylor.

               Jo had found more and more people recognizing her on the streets, but with her first album almost a year behind her and the tour over now too, she was hoping things would settle down. She needed them too. The doctors gave her mom a few more months, but that wasn’t something she could think about too much. Right now all she could think was, holy shit, Iron Man is my father.

               She stepped off the train and made her way down the stairs to the avenue below. Though it was late, almost midnight, but the streets were still lively around her. Joanna loved Bushwick- it was the first place she lived that took her totally out of her comfort zone. A true melting pot of all cultures, colors, and languages, each passing day in Brooklyn felt like more of an inspiration. Jo walked the two short blocks from the train to her apartment, shoving her key in the lock and making her way up to the loft apartment she rented to record and stay in when she was in New York.

               Once at the top floor of the walk up apartment, she pushed her way in and was immediately greeted by a 65lb ball of fluff rocketing across the loft towards her. “Atlas!” She called the red Australian shepherd, “come ‘ere boy I missed you!” With all of the hype of getting off of her flight straight to the hospital, and then the whole Tony Stark thing, she had almost forgotten how much she missed her dog.    

               Not far behind atlas, her roommate, Camille, came running out of one of the bedrooms. Jo met Camille nearly two years ago, when she was just 15. Camille worked at the recording studio in the City where Joanna first started writing her album- right after her single Royals became the so-called ‘song of the summer’. Camille was older than Jo by nearly three years, but the girls hit it off immediately, and when the album was released Jo asked Cam to be her assistant.

               “Welcome home!” Camille yelled across the apartment, running over to Jo to give her a hug. Jo took a look at Camille. With skin the color of a Chai Latte, haunting green eyes, and a mop of brown curls, Camille had to have been one of the most beautiful girls that Jo had ever seen. Immediately intimidated, it took Jo a long time to open up to the older girl, but once it finally happened they became fast friends. Jo isn’t sure what she would do without Camille.

               “Happy to be here,” Jo breathed, finally able to relax a little.

               “How’s your mom,” Camille asked timidly, knowing it was a hard topic for Jo to talk about. Camille was the first person Jo had told when she heard the news. They both broke down and cried on the floor of their apartment that night.

               “The doctors say she has a few months left,” The dog at her feet nudged her hand. She didn’t realize she stopped idly petting him. She scratched behind his ears.

Camille let out a deep sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jo. I don’t know what else to say,”

“There’s really not much else to say,” Jo looks away, “… but I do have some other news.”

“Do tell,” Camille made her way over to the couch and plopped down.

Good thing you’re sitting, Jo thinks to herself before blurting out, “Tony Stark is my dad.”

Camille snorts, “Yeah, and Captain America is my new boyfriend.”

Jo rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Cami, I’m being totally serious. One minute I’m getting off a plane to see my dying mother and the next a nurse is at her door saying ‘Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you’. And my mom’s saying she knew this whole time Tony fucking Stark was my dad and they had a fling in the 90s-”

“Didn’t your mom sleep with like half of the East Village in the 90s? How is sure….” Camille stares at Jo, “Holy shit you look so much like him.”

“Yes she did, but that’s not the point. We have the same eyes. This whole time I’m thinking that whoever my dad is could give less of a fuck about me. He didn’t even know I existed, Cam. He wanted to know me.” Jo’s voice breaks. “I’m so mad at her.”  

Camille busies herself petting Atlas. Her heart aches for Jo.

“But how am I supposed to be mad at her when she’s dying,” Joanna continues, voice dropping to a whisper. “What am I supposed to do next?”

“I don’t know kid, but I don’t think you have to figure it all out at once,” Camille reminds Jo. “…. But you do have to figure some parts out soon. I’m going to need to arrange a press release, interviews. The world already knows your mother is sick, but this is definitely not something that will stay secret for long.”

In the whirlwind of news, Jo barely even had time to think about the press. Fuck, Iron Man was her father. Like Saved-New-York-City-By-Flying-An-Actual-Nuke-Into-Outer-Space Iron Man. The whole world knew his name and his face, and a lot of people knew hers too. “This is a mess,” is all Jo can say.

Camille grabs Jo by the hands, “Here’s our game plan: you have an interview with Rolling Stone in 9 days. Two days before the interview, I’ll leak to the press that your dad is a fucking Avenger, you’ll answer some questions, and then no press or interviews or red carpets until you’re ready.”

Camille’s rationale sounded good to Jo, and she let herself relax a little. “Wine?” She asked Camille.

“I’ll grab the glasses.”

The two girls caught up over several bottles of wine, neither girl bringing up Jo’s mom’s cancer or Tony Stark for a while, until Jo, a little drunk, laughed softly, “Iron Man is my dad,” she snorted, and then started laughing so hard tears welled up in her eyes.

“What is so funny,” Camille laughed along

“Cam, my whole life, and I mean all of it, I sat around and thought about who my dad might have been. When I was in high school I used to imagine that he was a poet, or a singer or some amazing artist that had to fly all over the world. But when I was a little girl I imagined he was superhero, because why else would he not be around? He had to save people’s lives.

“Turns out,” Jo continues, “My dad is a literal fucking superhero.” And then she and Camille are hysterically laughing.

“Ok, ok, I can’t breathe,” Camille gasps. The two girls settle down.

“Do you think he’s going to try to like… parent me?” Jo asks. “Cause that ship has definitely sailed.”

“I’m not sure. Most people don’t look at 16 year-old pop icons with a top 40 album and think, ‘hm, she probably needs some fatherly advice’.” Camille mused. “Do you think Stark will be a strict dad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, it’s like I really need him for anything. I’m not a normal 16 year old. I have money, a place to live…” Jo rattled off.

“Yeah, kid, I know. But that’s not all someone needs,” Camille says sincerely. “Your mom clearly wants you to have a relationship with him, it’s practically her dying wish.” Camille had great relationships with both of her parents- something that Jo had come to envy. Camille knew how important those relationships were to her, and she imagined that Jo wanted something like it too, with her father.

“What if he doesn’t even care? Like what if he just came because she’s dying and then she’ll be gone and I’ll never hear from him again? I mean he’s Tony Stark he has a lot of shit going on and maybe he’s too busy-”

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down.” Camille hushed Jo, “Sounds like you’re already pretty invested in this, Jo. Are you worried you’re going to be disappointed?”

Joanna sighed. Yeah, there was a while a few years ago that she was obsessed with the idea of knowing her father and who he was. It was half of her, and she wanted, needed, to know more about him. So she kept bothering her mom about it until one day, when she was 12 or 13, her mom snapped and told her that her dad never wanted her, or wanted to know her. Joanna tried very hard to not care after that. But now she knew Mr. Stark never even knew about her. And the way he looked at her like she had been missing from his life this whole time gave her some kind of hope, she supposed.

“What if he doesn’t like me,” Jo whispers.

“That’s not possible.” Camille looked at the time glowing from the oven clock. “Shit, it’s like two in the morning, let’s go to bed. We have lots to figure out tomorrow.” The girls said their goodnights and Jo padded to her bedroom with the large windows, Atlas not far behind her.

She knows she has a lot to think about and even more to do, but she feels so tired when she gets into bed that she’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

__________________________________________________________________

Across town, in a very different building on 45th street, Tony Stark stood in his office, looking down to the streets below him. New York was always lively, even at nearly 2AM. He let out a sign and ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time. He met his daughter today.

She was so small. He hadn’t expected that. When he read interviews or saw pictures watched her perform she seemed larger than life. He was sure that every parent thought their kid was special, but, unbiasedly, his actually was. She won song of the year at the Grammys and was nominated for countless awards.

It’s all he had done for weeks. Research, he supposed. But soon he would have to talk to her. And then what? He didn’t know how to do this, to be a father to a teenager. One who was going through a really hard time with unlimited money and resources. How was he supposed to make this work? But then he saw her.

She looked like him. Dark hair, but she artfully dyed blonde that gave it a rooty look. Her hair was wild and wavy and long, something she got from her mother.  She was small in build- maybe 5’3. But her eyes were haunting. They were his. The exact color and shape and intensity.

He heard the footsteps behind him before he heard the voice, “Having trouble sleeping?” Tony turned around to face the tall blond man standing in his doorway.

“Cap,” Tony greeted him, “Why are you in my living room at 2 in the morning?”

Steve Rogers pointed at the floor below him, “My living quarters are directly below yours. And you’ve been pacing.”

“So out of the kindness of your heart you came up here to see what ails me? I’m touched.” Sarcasm dripped from Tony’s voice.

Steve chuckled, “I was actually gonna tell you to go to bed so I could sleep. But if you want to talk about it…” he trailed off, expecting the man to blow him off.

But to Steve’s surprise, Tony blurts out, “I found out I have a daughter a few weeks ago and I met her today.” He says, then turns away to continue looking out the window.

“Oh and her mom is dying. And she’s 16 years old. And she’s Joanna Taylor.” Tony sits in an armchair and puts his head in his hands.

“Hey I actually know her!” Steve exclaims. Tony groans. Steve has been carrying around a notebook he filled with pop culture references he was trying to catch up on.

“Jesus Christ, Rogers, I’m trying to have a moment here.”

“Right,” Steve says, “So… what are you going to do?” Tony continues to look out the window. “Look, Tony. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. I’m sure she’s just as freaked out as you are. Take things slow, get to know her. It will all come.”

“What if she wants nothing to do with me? What am I supposed to do then?” The words that had been stuck in the back of his throat since he found out about her tumbled out of his mouth.

“You’re kidding, right? You saved the world, Stark. Remember? I think it’ll be fine.” The two men sit in companionable silence before Steve laughs, “16 years-old? Yikes.” He raised his eyebrows at Tony.

“Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from Parker,” But he smiles fondly at the memory of Peter Parker when they first met. 15 and naïve and ready to save the world. How was that almost 4 years ago already?

The bigger man laughs, “Peter turned out great, Tony. You found him at a time he needed a father figure and now he’s developing tech with the best in the world.”

“And he’s not dead,” Tony laments

“Definitely not dead, and I’d say that in our line of work the odds of that are higher than an average teenager. So, see? You managed to keep one teenager alive and happy, you can definitely manage another one.” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Get some sleep, Stark.”

Oddly enough, Steve’s words comforted Tony. The two didn’t see eye-to-eye always, but they were fighting on the same team. Tony knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight, so he started to work on new updates to his suit. Once and acceptable hour (at least acceptable to him) rolled around he sent a text to Jo.

Let’s grab coffee before we go see your mom today. TS.

               It’s a start, he supposed.

Jo woke up to the light streaming in her windows softly. She never closed her blinds at night, loving the way the huge windows in her loft let in the morning sun. She stretched and rolled over, reaching for her phone. Ignoring several texts, her eyes focus on one from a number she doesn’t recognize. TS. Tony Stark. He wanted to get coffee before going to see mom.

               Joanna looked at the time on her phone 8:17am. She still needed to shower and tend to the slight hangover she had from all the wine last night. She poured herself a glass of water and texted Tony back

               JT: Coffee Project @ 10??

               TS: See you there

               Jo takes the train again as she makes her way to the small coffee shop in the East Village. She’s a bit early, so she expects to get some writing done before Tony shows. Much to her surprise, Tony is already seated at a table in the back. He stands when she approaches the table.

               “No need for the formalities, pops. You can sit,” Before the words are out of Jo’s mouth, she regrets them. She had no filer. Tony sits with an amused smile. “Sorry,” she sighs, “I’ve got a bit of a foot-in-mouth complex.”

               Tony laughs, “It’s no problem. I ordered you a coffee.”

               “Perfect, I need my fix.”

               “Fix? Aren’t you a bit young to be addicted to caffeine?” Tony wondered. He saw the dark circles under Joanna’s eyes, “Did you sleep well last night?”

               “Definitely not too young, I’m in a different time zone basically every other day when I’m touring, coffee keeps me alive.” She shrugs, “I slept great last night, actually. First time back in my bed in like three weeks,” She takes a sip of the coffee in front of her. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink. Somethin’ on your mind?” She jokes

               Tony chortles, this girl is funny. “Nothing new,” He kids back with a sly grin. Then he sighs, “So,”

               “So,” Jo repeats

               “What now?”

               “You’re the adult, you’re supposed to know!” Jo laughs at him. At least talking to him was easy, the conversation flowed nicely. “I’m too nervous to say something stupid.” She admits.

               “You’re nervous? Imagine how I feel, having to make conversation with Joanna Taylor!” He rests his chin on his hand, “It’s a nightmare. I’m going to say something weird.”

               “You’re Iron Man!” She says a little loudly, laughing. Some of the other coffee shop patrons turn to look at them. She’s used to people staring at her, even taking pictures, but this time she was sitting across the table from Tony Stark, and people were confused.

               “I guess we both have big expectations to fulfill,” He takes a drink of coffee.

               “Guess so.”

               “So what have you been up to the last 16 years?” Tony asks Jo.

               She laughs out loud and just starts talking. About writing her record and the tour and how hard it’s been. She explains how hard it’s been to find people to work with, because who wants to take orders from a 16 year old. She got a little over-excited, telling him about her vision and her stages and the lights and words. How close she paid attention every tiny detail, because of how important the stories she was telling were to her.

               Tony Stark hung on her every word. He couldn’t believe he helped make her. She was the most incredible teenager he had ever met. As they talked though, he was filled with slow, anxious dread. She was so small and vulnerable and naive about the dangers of the world- of the universe. And he had seen it with his own two eyes. How could he protect her, she definitely couldn’t protect herself. He was lost in thought when he heard her small voice.

               “Are you in the City full time, Tony?” He blinks and answers her, and then it’s her turn to ask questions and he effectively pushes the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Eventually the time would come for him to worry about that, but it wasn’t now.

               They go on like this until Sunday visiting hours at the hospital begin at 1, Jo checks her phone and exclaims, “Crap, how is it already one? I have to go see my mom. Do you still want to-” Tony doesn’t let her finish.

               “Right behind you, kid,” Tony interrupts her. Always, he wants to add but refrains. Who knew how big of a part of her life she wanted him to be, he definitely didn’t want to freak her out. So he stands and helps her out of her chair and follows closely behind her and tries to find the right words to say.

               Time passes just so- Joanna meets with Tony once or twice a week and she goes to the hospital see her mom. As days pass her mom gets sicker and sicker and sicker, disappearing right in front of her eyes. One day, when Jo knows her mom’s time is coming to an end, Eleanor sits at the edge of her hospital and grabs her hand, “Joanna.”

               Jo’s stomach drops, she knows her mom is about to tell her something bad, “Mom?”

               “It’s time to say goodbye sweetie,” Jo’s eyes immediately fill up with tears and she looks down. She and her mom had talked about this already. When it was time, Jo’s mom would let her know. Eleanor didn’t want her daughter to see her get any worse. “Don’t cry. You knew this was coming,” Eleanor rubs Jo’s hand with her thumb.

               “I didn’t think it would be so soon,” Joanna whispers, tears freely falling. “How am I supposed to leave you alone?”

               “Honey. I’m not alone. My sisters are here. I’ve made my peace,” Jo’s aunts had gotten in a few days ago. She knew then how bad things were getting.

               Jo lets out a sob. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” She admits.

               “You’re going to change the world,” her mother smiles and hugs her.

               They sit like that for a while. Eleanor holding Jo. Holding each other and whispering over and over, “I love you.” Neither ready to say goodbye, but knowing it had to happen soon. Eventually, Eleanor’s sisters, Jo’s aunts, come into the room. They spend their last hours together as a full family peacefully. There are a lot of tears and even laughter, but more than anything there is love.

               Soon it is time for them to say their final goodbyes. Jo hugs her mom one last time and says her final goodbye to her mother. She didn’t know something could hurt so much, she couldn’t breathe for it. All that she knew was that nothing would be the same ever again. She bid goodbye to her aunts, making plans to talk later.

               Tears blur her vision as she makes her way to the lobby of the hospital, walking quickly. She pulls out her phone to call an Uber, knowing she’s in no position to take the train, when she runs into a hard body, and her phone falls out of her hands, shattering the screen.

               “For fucks sake!” Jo exclaims, wiping tears from her face, “Could you watch where you’re going?” She bends down to pick up her phone, but the other person beats her to it.

               “I’ll replace that,” A familiar voice says, handing her back the broken device.

               “Tony?”

               “Let me give you a ride,” He says, reaching out to put his arm around Jo’s shoulder, but thinks better of it, and places his hand on her back and takes her out a side door of the hospital. He feels her breathing start to grow heavy and notices the devastating look in her eyes. He opens the back door of the large SUV, ushers her in, and gets in behind her.

               “Where to, boss?” Happy, his driver (among other things) asks.

               “Just a sec, Hap.” He says to the driver, “Did something happen, kid?” He tries to make eye contact with Jo, but she keeps staring at her lap.

               “Tony, I.. she.. we,” The girl stutters, crying in earnest now, “We said goodbye today, she said she didn’t want me to see her like this anymore, and…” Tony can’t understand her, she’s so distraught. He can’t take seeing this girl, his daughter, in so much pain. He wants to take it from her, to keep it from her so she’ll never feel like that again.

               But that’s not how it works, so he tentatively reaches to hug the girl. Joanna throws one arm around Tony and uses the other to clutch his dress shirt, crying into his chest, “I’m so scared,” She repeats over and over.

               Happy looks in the rear view mirror. Tony Stark looks like a fish out of water with his 16 year-old daughter clinging to him. He wasn’t exactly known as the most touchy-feely person, but seeing him so tender with the girl makes Happy smile to himself. He puts up the divider between the front and back seats to give them some privacy.

               Tony strokes Jo’s hair as she sobs. Usually, he knows exactly what to say. He always has a quick remark or joke on the tip of his tongue, but at this moment he had absolutely no idea how to comfort the crying girl. But he knew her pain, and that she was too young to be having this weight on her shoulders. After all, his parents had died when he was just 21. But for a girl to lose her mother at 16 just felt different.

               “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m here, everything is ok,” Joanna continued to sniffle and cry until she wore herself out and eventually fell asleep in the back of the car. Tony isn’t sure how long he sits there, listening to her breathing, before he taps the window and asks Happy to take them to Avengers Tower. When they arrive, he gingerly picks the sleeping girl up carries her to an empty bedroom in the living quarters, piquing the interest of several avengers.

               “Is that international pop star Joanna Taylor?” Sam Wilson deadpanned, sweaty from his workout, “In your arms?”

               “A bit young for you, don’t you think Stark?” Wanda joked from her spot on the couch.

               “You didn’t tell them?” Tony sighed at Steve, who trailed in not far after Sam.

               “You didn’t tell me to!” Steve says definitively.

               “I didn’t tell you not to.”

               “So I just should have known?” Steve rolls his eyes.

               “Just when I thought we were finally thinking as one, Rogers.” Tony rolls his eyes back and carries Jo to a guest room, laying her in the bed. Mumbles and rolls over, pulling the blankets around her body.

               Tony then strides back out into the common room where a handful of his team are loitering, curious. “All right,” he bemuses, “team meeting, Avengers assemble, whatever. How many of you are there here…” he looks around, “Enough of you, I guess.

               “Quick announcement: Joanna Taylor is my daughter. Steve and Happy have the details, bother them if you have any questions.” Tony turns on his heel and walks out of the room, figuring in the next few days the word would spread fast enough that he wouldn’t have to answer too many questions.

               Hours later, Jo wakes up in an unfamiliar setting. She’s in a large, plush bed, shrouded in darkness. She remembers saying goodbye to her mother, literally running into Tony, and having a meltdown in the back of his SUV. She must have fallen asleep, worn out from crying.

               She threw the covers off of herself and got up, turning on the light on the nightstand. Her phone sat there, with a brand new screen. She smiled to herself and checked her texts, seeing one from her mom that just said I love you and another one from Tony.

               TS: Fixed your screen, shouldn’t be breaking again. PS- we’re having dinner on the 8th floor of the residency, come eat when you’re ready.

               Her stomach growls at the first mention of dinner. Jo makes her way out of the bedroom and walks down a corridor where she notices another empty bedroom. Entering the main room, she is met with a brand new updated kitchen and large open concept living area, it’s at least double the size of her apartment in Brooklyn.

               “What the fuck is the 8th floor of the residency, where am I” She mutters to herself, looking for some kind of signage pointing her in the right direction.

               “Hi Joanna,” An automated, robotic voice scares her so bad it sends her to the floor, “You are currently on the first floor of the residency in Avengers Tower, on 45th Street in Manhattan, New York.” Jo’s heart is beating so fast from the voice that came out of nowhere, she can barely hear what its saying. “You will find that, in the Avengers Tower, the first 59 floors are to Stark Industries offices. Floors 60-70 are for the Avengers Initiative, and Floors 70-80 are the residencies.”

               “Uh, thanks…?” She looks around, trying to find the source of the voice, “What are you exactly?”

               “I’m FRIDAY,” the voice sounds again, “You can think of me as one of Mr. Stark’s assistants. I’m sorry I frightened you,”

               “It’s okay. How do I get to the 8th Floor of the residency?” Jo asked, feeling stupid.

               “I will call an elevator for you, it will be here in approximately 30 seconds,” FRIDAY answered her.

               “Thanks FRIDAY.”

               “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

               “Don’t call me that,” Jo calls to the voice before stepping in the elevator that opened in front of her. The elevator moves almost silently up to the floor where some others are gathered, waiting on dinner. This apartment is nearly the exact same as the one she was just in, but decorated differently. She sees Tony hunched over the kitchen counter with two other men, laughing quietly over something on a tablet. There’s two women on the couch, quietly watching the news.

               She steps off the elevator and suddenly feels very nervous. “Jo!” Tony looks over at her, and then all eyes in the room are on her, “You’re awake,”

               “Uh, yeah,” She nods in his direction, “Thanks for fixing my phone,” She holds up the device and strides over to where Tony is standing with the others, feigning confidence. It was something she often had to do in her line of work, and she was getting good at it. “What’s so funny?” She gestures to the tablet on the table where a video is paused.

               Tony chuckles, “Don’t be mad but I had FRIDAY alert me when you were up. Yanno, in case you might need something,” Tony laughs a little, “I had her send a live feed of you, and well, this is what she sent,” Tony slides the device to her and presses play.

               It’s a video of Jo right after she woke up, when FRIDAY scared her. The video shows Jo walking from the bedroom, her mumbling indistinctly, and then the voice coming from nowhere. She sees herself jump about a foot in the air before falling to ground, hand over her heart, eyes wide.

               Joanna laughs out loud, “Happy to be your entertainment for the evening,” She says, arms out wide. The three men join in laughing, relieved that she can make light of the embarrassing situation. She then looks at her father and the two men around him. She recognizes Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson immediately. Truthfully, the Avengers had reached a world-wide celebrity status that was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Not everyone liked them, but everyone knew who they were.

               And Jo was suddenly very aware of the men that were standing in front of her, and how she must look after the shit day she had. Her eyes were red and dry, and her long, wavy hair was a bird’s nest. Sam, the tall, dark-skinned man to her dad’s left put out his hand to shake hers, “Sam Wilson,” he introduced himself, smiling at her. She shook his hand, “Joanna Taylor,”

               “Oh, I know,” He says to her, chuckling, “I took my 14 year old niece to one of your shows, she says that you’re the only one who gets her.”

               “I’m glad ya’ll had a good time,” Jo smiles at him, before turning to the other man with her father. Steve Rogers was bigger in person, towering over her and the other two men next to him. And oh, god, was he good looking. Tony looked over to see Jo subconsciously fixing her hair and standing up a little straighter when she introduced herself to Steve Rogers. Tony rolled his eyes, but knew the older man would never make a move on a 16 year old. And he was used to seeing women’s reactions around the soldier. He figured the young girl was probably very flustered and smiled to himself.

               Wanda and Natasha got up from their position on the couch to meet Jo. Once introductions were done, Sam moved over to the oven and pulled out the roast he made for the team. They all settled in for dinner, Jo fielding questions from the others about her and Tony’s new relationship.

               Eventually, it grows late, and Jo excuses herself, telling the group how nice it was to meet them, and that she’d be around much more. Tony follows her to the elevator, “I can have FRIDAY call you a car?” He asks her.

               “That would actually be nice, I got a google alert that TMZ published how bad my mom is doing… really not in the mood for paparazzi,” She smiles softly, looking at the floor.

               Tony asks his AI to get Happy for Jo, and they make their way down to the private garage. “Thanks for everything today,” Jo says in a small voice, rocking forward on the balls of her toes, “It means a lot,”

               Tony pulls her into a hug, it feels stiff at first, but then she melts into her father, something that she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. “Anything for you, kid.” And he meant it. Her pretty face and quick wit had him wrapped absolutely around her finger. He never knew it was possible. He always thought that he would be a parent like his dad was, cold and unforgiving, which is why he thought he didn’t want children. But he was so soft around her.

               “See you soon, Tony.” Jo says, stepping up into the large SUV. Tony doesn’t go back up to his apartment until the SUV is completely out of sight.

               Four days after Jo says goodbye, she gets the call that her mom passed. She hardly remembers the days following. It was a lot of I-love-yous and Im-so-sorrys and paparazzi camped outside her Bushwick apartment. She cried until she couldn’t. The funeral passed in a flurry of black. She was surrounded by people for a week straight- asking her if she was ok, making her eat, telling her what to do and exactly when to do it.

               She was ready to scream all the time, and she just wanted to be alone. Finally, after 8 days of constant nagging, she was by herself. But then she couldn’t stand to be. So she starts drinking. And when her party friends, the socialites and models that she pretends to like, call. She goes out. She keeps drinking. She sorts lines of whatever drugs they put in front of her. She sleeps with boys and she doesn’t remember their names.

               She feels Camille worry for her. She ignores calls and texts from Tony. She sees headlines next to her face with the words “Fall From Grace” in bold font. She can’t bring herself to care. Because her mom is dead and what does it matter anyway?

               One night, she’s already drunk, stumbling out the door in high heels with whatever boy showed up at her apartment that night. He had pretty blue eyes and lots of tattoos and a world tour that just ended and let his hands wander over her body.

               “I’m going to come out tonight,” Camille calls after her.

               “The more the merrier,” Jo says. The three get in a car and head to the city. Jo tries to have a conversation with Camille, but the boy next to her is kissing her neck. She tries to pull away, but he just pulls her closer, his hand sliding up her breast.

               “Knock it off,” She snaps at him.

               “Stop being such a prude,” He retorts, but pulls away none the less. He then pulls a joint and lighter from his wallet and lights up in the back of the car. He passes the joint to Jo, who takes a big pull and passes it to Camille. Camille declines, shooting a nervous look at Jo, who doesn’t even notice.

               The nights go on as they all do. Bouncers pretend they don’t know she’s not 21. They get a table with bottle service, and Jo gets so wasted she can barely remember her name. But on this night in-particular, she’s out of control, dancing on tables, telling fans to fuck off. She can barely stand up straight, and Camille notices the boy she’s with getting handsier- giving her more drinks she doesn’t need. Another man, dark hair, is sitting close to them, his hand running up Jo’s thigh. Things looked bad

               Camille pulls the phone from Jo’s small purse, and sends a text to the only person she can think of.

               JT: Hi, this is Jo’s roommate Camille. We’re at Up & Down downtown. Jo’s not doing too good right now, I need you to come get her.

               The reply is almost immediate.

               TS: We’ll be there

               Immediately relieved, she slides Jo’s phone back into her bag. Camille knows Joanna might not forgive her for now, but things were getting out of hand, and she was worried about her best friend. Then, the boys Jo is with pulls her up and start to direct her to a private room and Camille immediately panics.  

               It’s the same moment Tony Stark strides in the dark club with another young man. Peter Parker- Camille recognizes him- Spiderman. She wonders if they were together. Running up to the two men, Camille points in the direction of the men dragging Jo away from the crowded table.

               “Thanks Camille, we got it from here,” and with that the stressed out girl gets herself a cab home.

               Jo doesn’t see Tony and Peter approach her, but rather feels herself being ripped from the grasp of the boys.

               “Where are you going?!” A familiar voice asks. It takes her eyes a while to focus on her father. Her eyes are red and unfocused, high as a kite.

               “What are you on?” He demands. She looks at him with blurred eyes, not able to form words. “What did you give her?” He turns his attention to the pissed off boys.

               “Hey, man nothing she didn’t want. We were gonna give her more of what she wants, before you interrupted,” And with that, he boys hand is on Jo’s arm, yanking her roughly towards them. She stumbles and hits the ground, crying out.

               “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Tony says. But before he can react, Peter Parker has both boys on ground, and is helping Jo to her feet. Tony gives him a look.

               “What? No one should touch a girl like that,” Peter defends his actions, tips of his ears turning red. Jo leans on his chest, unable to stand upright. She smells like weed and alcohol and something unmistakably her. It’s intoxicating.

               “I’m going to pretend you’re not blushing over my daughter right now,” Tony rolls his eyes and they begin to make their way to the exit. “Why would any human ever voluntarily come here?” he shudders.

               Joanna, who has no idea what’s going on, struggles against Peter, “Where are you taking me,” She slurs.                

               “Jesus christ was that even English? We’re taking you home,” Tony answers.

               Jo must fall asleep on the way home, because the next thing she remembers is Peter Parker lifting her up like she weighed no more than a feather and carrying her up the four flights of stairs to her loft. She mumbles that she can walk herself, but he either can’t understand her or he’s ignoring her. Once inside, Peter puts her down and she sways a little, but manages to stay upright. Tony steps in front of her

               “What were you thinking, Jo?” Tony says harshly.

               “I had it under control,” She whispers back

               “The hell you did! If we wouldn’t have come when we did…” he trails off remembering those two punks pulling her small, intoxicated form to a private room, “You need to make better decisions than the ones you’ve been making!”

               Jo snorts and rolls her eyes, “Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Stark,” She practically spits his name at him, “But I don’t need you to parent me.”

               “Well who the fuck else is going to do it then?” He sees tears well up in Jo’s eyes and immediately regrets his comment.

               “Fuck you,” She says vehemently

               “Wow, the first ‘fuck you’. What a memorable parenting moment.” Tony says under his breath before continuing, “You are out of control. This lifestyle is going to kill you if you keep it up, don’t you understand that? Nothing good comes from all of this!” He gestures to her kitchen table, where the drugs and alcohol from before the club are sitting.

               “You don’t just get to come in and be ‘dad’ all of the sudden, Stark. That’s not how this works!”

               “Forgive me if I haven’t been in a situation like this before, but I’m trying my fucking best.” They’re screaming at each other across the apartment. Peter sheepishly stands behind Tony, trying to make himself invisible.

               “I don’t need your money, I don’t need your advice, I don’t need anything from you!” Jo gets in his face, “I don’t need you.” She repeats. As she says the words, she knows they couldn’t be further from the truth.

               Her words hurt Tony in a way he didn’t know was possible, but he reminds himself that she’s drunk and high out of her mind on cocaine. Of course she needed someone to take care of her. “I just found you, I can’t lose you again.” He whispers.

               She blinks and looks up at him sadly, “You never had me.”

               Tony shakes his head and takes a step back, “I need some air. You shouldn’t sleep right away with all that shit in your system. Give it an hour or two.” And he strides out of the apartment, shutting the door gently behind him. Jo grabs an empty beer bottle and hurls it at the door, flinching at the sound it makes when it shatters.

               She sits at the table, puts her head in her hands and groans. What the fuck was she going to do now? Jo jumps at the sound of Peter clearing his throat. “You know, I, uh, my parents are dead.” He says, kind of forgetting what he was saying when her eyes met his.

               “Cool.” She sorts.

               “No.. I mean… what I was saying…” He paused, flustered. “I lost my parents when I wasn’t much younger than you. I know how it feels. Tony was great, actually. He helped me a lot.” Peter runs a hand through his hair.

               Jo looked at him with still bleary eyes, “I don’t care,” then she stomps to her room and slams the door.

[hello-thefatlosshabit-blr]

“Accountability breeds response-ability.” – Stephen Covey

If you have been following this weekly blog, thank you! This week’s challenge is to determine if you have been successful at adopting some of the habits I have suggested or any other habits you have decided to adopt. The best way to become consistent is to track our consistency.

“What gets measured gets managed.” – Peter Drucker

What gets measured gets managed, simply means that examining an activity forces us to pay more attention to it. The simple act of measuring and recording forces us to make more thoughtful choices and decisions. Budget experts have found that daily logging expenses can help people cut their spending by making them more mindful of how they spend their money.

The same is true for logging our food. A 2009 weight loss study found that participants who were asked to log their food naturally began to identify patterns, which made them want to do a better job of planning their meals ahead of time; this, in turn, led to healthier food choices. The group that kept food logs lost twice as much weight as the other study participants that did not log their foods. [i]

MyFitnessPal released an astonishing statistic that 88% of people who logged their food for seven days lost weight.[ii] The more you track, the greater your likelihood of reaching your goals. Your progress must be measurable to achieve it, and the act of measuring will automatically modify your behavior.

“If you want it, measure it. If you can’t measure it, forget it.” Peter Drucker.

Activity trackers work on the same concept of what gets measured gets managed. Monitoring your daily activity will automatically cause you to modify your behavior and become more active daily. You will start taking the stairs more often and parking your car further away from building entrances. Each time you hit your daily goal, it generates another small win. Small wins will help you stay motivated.

I think a simple notepad is one of the most powerful self-improvement tools in existence when used to log activity. Logging the activity creates awareness. Awareness is the first step in changing behavior. It is the first step toward transformation. When you log an activity, you become more mindful of your decisions, big and small.

Often it is the small, seemingly insignificant decisions that are sabotaging our success. Eating that cookie in the break room, losing valuable time by allowing yourself to become distracted while working on something important, skipping a workout, or staying up late watching TV instead of getting a good night’s sleep. Anyone of these decisions by themselves isn’t devastating, but their accumulative effects are. Whatever it is you want to improve, your time management, your leadership, your relationships, your business, your eating patterns, your exercise consistency, or your spending can be tracked. Be relentless. Track everything related to the behavior you want to improve. Awareness is the first step toward transformation. Bad habits are the result of neglect. Mindfulness prevents us from mindlessly doing things that are sabotaging us.

 I am a firm believer in Peter Drucker’s management principle “What gets measured gets managed.” Anyone that has ever kept a financial spending log or food log knows that they changed their spending or eating behavior when they kept a record of the activity. When we monitor an activity, we naturally become more mindful of our choices. We automatically modify our behavior and make better decisions. It is so simple to understand, I am always amazed how many people don’t use it to improve their personal or professional performance.

If you really want to change a behavior track it for at least a week, a month would be even better, two months optimal. If you want to improve your performance, you must track your performance. If you cannot track it, you will not achieve it. Everything and anything you want to improve can be measured. You might think some things can’t be measured, like building employee loyalty, but I would argue it can.

If a leader wants to build loyalty in their organization, they could decide that twice a week they are going to visit two employees whose managers say they have been doing a great job and paying them a compliment for their excellent work. She could then inquire as to how they are doing and ask if there are any resources they need, including training, to help them be even more effective. Tracking her consistency would be the lead indicators, and quarterly feedback from culture surveys would be the lag indicator. Loyalty is a two-way street. Showing employees that the leadership values their contribution, and is committed to their professional development is how you earn loyalty.

Awareness is the first step in transformation. If we are serious about improving any area of our life, we need some method of tracking the behavior. You could use habit-forming apps like Strides, Streaks, Fabulous, and Toodledo, help you track and develop new habits. The Strides app allows you to create instant habits by programming action triggers. You can program multiple reminders for each task, and the app tracks your consistency.

Maintaining a checklist is a simple, very effective method of tracking consistency. Sabina Nawaz wrote a great article on the subject for the Harvard Business Review, Break Bad Habits with a Simple Checklist.[iii] The author suggests you make a list of daily habits you need to abandon and the new ones you need to adopt to move your career forward. The list you create must be actionable. If you are overly critical, you will create a daily habit of showing appreciation; paying someone a compliment each day for their good work. Recognizing what people do well, instead of fault finding.

Many people have an irrational dislike for checklists, but their effectiveness is undeniable. The New York Times Best Seller, The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right, demonstrates the effectiveness of checklists. The author was inspired to write the book based on the amazing effectiveness a 5-point checklist had on reducing death rates in Intensive Care Units (ICU’s).[iv]

The checklist addressed one of the most preventable causes of death in ICUs, central-line-associated bloodstream infections. The checklist reduced infection rates by 66% and is estimated to have saved 1,500 lives in its first three months of implementation during the Michigan Keystone: ICU Project.[v]

What was on this amazingly effective checklist? The checklist included: washing of hands; cleaning the patient’s skin with chlorhexidine antiseptic; putting sterile drapes over the entire patient; wearing a sterile mask, hat, gown, and gloves; and putting a sterile dressing over the catheter site once the line is in.

Many doctors resisted the checklist. They felt it was just another form to complete, and that it would prevent them from spending more time attending to the patient. Some felt the list insulted their intelligence since the items were so rudimentary. Nurses had to be empowered to enforce the checklist because doctors were often the ones omitting a step. Even after the results were announced some still thought it was not necessary, but when asked whether they would want the checklist used if they were having an operation, 93 percent said yes!

I have developed two checklists you can use to help track your consistency. I hope you will accept this week’s challenge and measure your consistency. We become what we consistently do. To be better, we have to consistently do better.

The Habit Score Card (pdf)

The Habit Score Card

The Habit Score Card (Example)

Habit Score Card (pdf)

Habit Score Card (Excel)

  “We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do.” – Aristotle

  “We become what we want to be by consistently being what we want to become each day.” Richard G. Scott

Until next week, good luck!

We become what we CONSISTENTLY DO. Change your habits, change your life! 

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Best wishes and Best Health!

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Are you ready to reboot and reset your relationship with food and exercise? Most programs focus on the mechanics of weight loss but fail to adequately address the psychology of change required. Most people know more than enough about nutrition and exercise to lose weight, but fail to take action. This book takes a new approach to getting leaner, fitter, and stronger. 

The Fat Loss Habit: Creating Routines that Make Willpower and Fat Loss Automatic takes a new approach to getting leaner, fitter, and stronger. The program uses high-impact change strategies that make the process of adopting a healthy lifestyle easier. The nutrition and workout program, like the change techniques, have all been proven effective, and are all backed by research and scientific studies.

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[i] Lora E. Burke, PhD, MPH, FAHA, FAAN, Jing Wang, PhD, MPH, RN, Graduate Student Researcher, and Mary Ann Sevick, ScD, RN, Research Scientist, “Self-Monitoring in Weight Loss: A Systematic Review of the Literature,” J Am Diet Assoc. 2011 Jan; 111(1): 92–102. doi: 10.1016/j.jada.2010.10.008.

[ii] Mike Lee, “MyFitnessPal Works if You Use It,” MyFitnessPal, November 17, 2014.

[iii] Sabina Nawaz, “Break Bad Habits with a Simple Checklist,” Harvard Business Review, February 10, 2017.

[iv] Atul Gawande, The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right, Picador; Reprint edition (January 4, 2011)

[v] Sandeep Jauhar, “One Thing After Another,” The New York Times, January 22, 2010.

Consistency is more important than intensity. Small improvements hammered out daily produce unbelievable results over time. “Accountability breeds response-ability.” - Stephen Covey If you have been following this weekly blog, thank you! …