#like I find it... really fucking strange that she never brings up the succession question if you're a woman?

[someoneintheshadow456]

Until I decide to get rid of the Dress up at the Winter Palace mod and choose to look fugly or get it to work I will say some random DAI thoughts without playing:

Vivienne comments on every romance with the companions but doesn't with the advisors... which makes zero sense. She should have especially commented on Josephine because they literally knew each other back at Orlais. They weren't friends, sure, but it's very odd that she doesn't say anything. She should ESPECIALLY say something if you are a mage, because mage x non-mage always spells trouble in her eyes.

You should have had the opportunity to piss Josie off. Like, if your relationship with her is bad enough, she will straight up Not Ask You what you think, and just take decisions without giving you a chance to have an input. Or if you have low approval with her, it should affect the war table in some way. I know that you CAN fuck up your relationship with her, but you should have been able to do it outside of that.

Speaking of the above, the Travelyans and the Montilyets are acquainted according to the lore, and Cullen is also from Ferelden and implied he's been to Oswtick Circle. If Lavellan gets a "default" option in the form of Solas, Cullen and Josephine should have had that same connection with Travelyan (especially the former if you're a mage, IK they do have dialogues for it but the romance plays the same regardless).

Even with Vivienne, she should have been more significant to Mage!Travy because she is literally your senior. Dorian also implies that the Travelyans are his distant cousins... but only if you're NOT a mage. He should have more incentive to do that if you are.

Same way, Josie/Blackwall being "improper" makes no sense because she's 1- Bi (a concern because of the "eldest child"/"next in line" problem) 2 - Has the opportunity to date an Inky who is non-human... which is even worse. Because it means she clearly has no concern for impropriety when it's YOU.

To rectify this, her and Blackwall should have gone all the way (like Dwarf Inky is literally a criminal too but Blackwall ain't okay?) if you don't romance her. And there should be SOME angst on her part if she likes someone who isn't "practical" for her family. If it's F!Travelyan, bring up the "next in line dilemma" and how she Wouldn't Get It because she's the youngest. If they're non-human or a mage, cite "what if the baby has magic/can't pass as a human." There should also be some lines implying her parents would make naysayers STFU because, well... Inky is Inky.

Corephyus' cult isn't explored that deeply. We should have gotten more story about how he's able to influence people so he isn't just "hahaha I'm evil." IK Solas is the "real villain", but the disparity between him and Corephyus is so jarring you can't believe that Solas is working under him.

[weirdocat83]

Idea for timebomb that would def be hard to pull off but incredibly funny, jinx becomes a firelight instead of ending up with silco, but Ekko has no fucking clue.

Instead of staying in one place and getting adopted by silco, powder runs off and hides. She forages on the streets for a while. Maybe even a few years. Then she hears of the firelights or maybe one of them picks her up off the streets. The thing is, she knows it’s run by Ekko. So she hides her identity. She already saw how Vi reacted to everyone dying and it was her fault so she doesn’t even want to know how Ekko would react. So she hides her identity. Maybe she dyes her hair or maybe she just covers up a LOT but either way, some people think it’s strange but it’s not like they have any room to question it. I’d imagine her voice is quite identifiable so she just elects Not To Talk until she gets her hands on a voice changer. After getting a masked outfit like we see most of the firelights in, she just starts wearing it everywhere.

She ends up really blending in and making friends despite her issues and in some cases, because of them. She’s definitely not the same as AU powder from S2E7 but similar. Definitely more chaotic and driven. She even talks to Ekko and re-befriends him. Powder would be seen as a more secretive person that doesn’t speak much, if at all. That being said, she definitely communicates her intentions and what she is going to do. A lot. She’s a very energetic person so I can’t imagine her staying silent about whatever she’s excited about, whether it be her latest invention or a successful mission.

And while she initially hid her identity out of fear of rejection (and even later still does to an extent) as they become closer it just becomes increasingly harder to bring up the fact that she is powder… especially when her and Ekko become closer and he starts confiding in her…

For a nice twist, you could have either Scar or Silco knowing. Silco could hold her identity over her head and have her make some tough decisions. What would she do to keep her identity hidden?

Scar on the other hand, is very close to Ekko, and knowing would create friction between not only Powder and Scar but also Scar and Ekko. Scar advising powder to tell Ekko and possibly helping her plan how exactly to go about that. Meanwhile Ekko would be wondering what they’re sneaking off to do and maybe he’d overhear and find out that they know where powder is but not who powder is.

The main thing that got me thinking about this idea is just the compilation of moments where powder ALMOST got caught and just BARELY was able to keep the secret. Also potentially dropping hints around the undercity that Powder is alive but never enough to really tell where she is (right next to him). Also Ekko being all like “Powder was my best friend and the only person who really Understood. I had a crush on her. She meant so much to me, I wish I had the opportunity to tell her how I felt and still feel.” Meanwhile powder, right next to him, is blushing under her mask and short circuiting because WHAT. And trying to act like she is still functioning as Ekko is continuing because if she showed a reaction it might give her away.

[oh-no-its-dragons]

"Is this how you learned runes?" Violet asks, looking up from one of her runework assignments. A stack of wooden circles sit in front of her, each imbued a little more neatly than the last.

This is a question I can answer without worrying overmuch about what secrets I've told her and what I've held so long I've forgotten it's tucked away, so I hurry to answer it. "Not at all. We learn long before we would be bonding with dragons, so it's never really a matter of controlling too much power."

"You learn it before you can do magic? Like in the book you gave me." Her eyes dart toward where she'd left it open on the bed. She doesn't try to imbue in bed any longer. I enjoy it when she's leaning against me as she studies, but it's just not practical when burning the sheets is a concern. So she sits at my desk with her little stack of sliced-up tree, and I sit in the window seat with my correspondence and the reports I have to review.

It's fascinating to watch her work through the runes. Even with the practice she had before coming to Aretia, the fine control required of her for runework has been a challenge. My Violence is both accustomed to challenge and expects success of herself quickly when she learns new things she considers academic. I suspect this seems academic to her because it resembles learning a dead language, and she speaks those as easily as she spoke my dead heart into life.

"We learn it without regard to signets or channeled magic," I clarify. "The simplest ones work for anyone, even children. It's much easier to learn when you don't have to worry about pouring too much in." It's strange to think about it now, the philosophy I only picked up tangentially as a child and understood much later. Adulthood is a foreign language I learned after the apostasy, and I've had to spend so much time translating things into it.

She considers that. "I think I can see why. Weaving the knots with fabric was difficult enough, but trying to do it without putting in too much or too little energy, keeping it stable…"

"Exactly. We learn to trace the knot and push our own anaile into it… breath is probably the closest word in Navarran." There are no perfect words in Navarran.

"Anaile." She repeats it with the slightest hint of an accent, the lilt musical but misplaced. I cannot wait until I have time to teach her Tyrrish properly. There are so many things that will never sound correct to me in Navarran, and I'm confident she'll be able to speak it with me in no time. Kissing the words out of her mouth will be even sweeter in my native tongue.

"Would you like to try it?" I ask her. "I have an idea. It's not exactly the way I learned but I think you'll enjoy it." I stand up and walk across the room, leaning over her in the chair. She looks up at me, her chin a perfectly kissable line down to the collar of her tunic and I take advantage, trailing a little line of kisses up to her jaw.

She laughs. "Xaden, I told you we can argue about sex after I finish my assignments."

"Mm. I can't help that I find you endlessly distracting, Violence."

"You certainly can when you want to."

I let that go. "Pay attention to how this feels. See if you can sense my anaile the way you would lightning gathering before a strike." Leaning in, I let my lips find their home against hers, taking the first moment just to luxuriate in how soft they are before I bring a hint of energy into my mouth like I'm about to speak a ward and then I breathe into the kiss, feeling as my energy ceases to be mine and settles into her.

When I pull away, she's staring at me, pupils wide and dark as the mountains at night. "What was that?"

"My breath, given freely."

"Xaden…"

"My Aunt Aoibhe taught us to do it by imagining the knot and then blowing into it like it was a little paper boat in the lake and we wanted it to sail away, so we had to blow as hard as we could. It's easier now, but I bet you could take the shape of it and make it work for you." She's fucking brilliant, of course she will. Probably with a better metaphor than I could ever come up with, and in half the time it took me to realize it would help.

"Us?"

"She was Bodhi's mom. During the summers when I was young it would be me and Bodhi and Garrick running around here, and when my dad and Garrick's father were busy, it would be Aunt Aoibhe teaching us how not to be completely feral little shits, or Garrick's Aunt Morag teaching us how to not die in the weapons courtyard. They were good times."

"Thank you," she said the curl of a smile. "For showing me. And for telling me something."

"I want to tell you things." I hate how desperate I sound when I say it, but it's true. "It's hard for me, and I know it's hard on you too."

"I can tell you're trying," she says, her words careful and diplomatic. She wants to believe me but she's still cautious. I can't fucking blame her, can I? But she's listening. I may not be as good as she is at learning languages, but if I want her to speak Tyrrish for me some day, I need to keep learning honesty for her now.

Can we get a scene of Xaden teaching Violet runes?

She refused his help already out of pride/wanting to do it on her own.

But after the battle of Basgiath she knows how useful runes are in this war, and I wanna believe Xaden is like really good at runes because it is his culture and his dad and other members of the rebellion probably taught him. And it’s this part of his past that he probably remembers fondly of before the war… how absolutely cute would it be for them to sit and practice runes while Xaden tells her little cute details of his relationship with his father and his aunt (Bodhi's mom)

Not to mention my sweet boy needs to get some stuff off his chest, he should be able to talk about the family he lost, to remember them fondly and to cherish this part of his culture.

[queenofbaws]

Hiiii! So this isn’t exactly a prompt and more like a random question (you can answer it as a prompt if you like!) but pretending there weren’t any Wendigos or a cool stranger that owns a flamethrower, what do you think would’ve happened if Josh’s prank had been successful?

well hiiiiiii!!! omg i...love this. i love this question so, so much, and as i've been sitting here thinking about it, an answer HAS presented itself to me, and that answer is, quite simply, this:

mike and jess show up to the lodge the next day and they've never been more confused in their fucking lives. that's it!

...oh who am i kidding, there's not nearly enough rambling in there for me. check the readmore ;)c heheheuHEUHEUHEHUE

so here's how i see it. we have no supernatural forces at play here. we also have no spooky old man/wolfdog c-c-c-c-combo. what does that mean for us here in blackwood pines?

well first and foremost, it means after emily and jess have their Iconic(tm) fight in the lodge, mike and jess are sexiled. they make their way to the guest cabin, and nothing bad happens. at all. literally not one bad thing happens. maybe mike jumps out and spooks jess. maybe he doesn't. maybe it's just...cute. and cold. and then they get to the guest cabin and HERE'S WHERE WE LEAVE THEM FOR NOW.

in irritation, matt and emily also go wandering to look for her *checks smudged writing on hand* b...bag from rodeo drive. they wander around. they too get very, very cold. they do not find her bag. these are both important points that we will ALSO LEAVE FOR LATER.

which brings us to your question in earnest: what WOULD'VE happened if josh's prank was successful?????? well, by all accounts, it WOULD probably work out, huh? he'd definitely scare the shit out of chris and ashley...the saw prank would go according to plan, they'd freak out and start running around like chickens with their heads cut off...and while they were busy screaming and sobbing and having panic attacks together, he'd swoop off and menace sam in her bath towel - as you do.

according to the logic of the game, chris and ashley would still run into matt and emily, who, of course, would try and go get help, only find there was no help to be had. what does this mean??? well, not a whole lot, really, except the two of them continue to be outside. cold. they still do not find emily's bag. the mood continues to sour.

meanwhile sam is now in the bowels of the lodge with nothing but a towel and she's Not Having A Good Time. as she is being chased by what she ASSUMES is a serial killer arsonist in a bad party city mask, chris and ashley are doing their best to be the hartley hardy boys, wandering around trying to SOLVE! THIS! MYSTERY! the mystery of the BISECTED BEST FRIEND! they're also Not Having A Good Time, but for markedly different reasons than sam.

josh, however, is having the time of his young life.*

*THIS IS SOON TO CHANGE!!!!!

matt and emily are able to make it to the fire tower and use the radio. the rangers inform them they won't be able to show up until...........morning, which is a bummer, right? super bummer. mostly because they're fucking cold. and they haven't. found. emily's. bag. only here's the thing, if there's nothing spooky happening, they also get DOWN from the fire tower in the normal, safe way. and then have to walk back to the lodge.

in the cold.

not finding emily's bag.

the vibes at this point are fucking. RANCID. MY FRIENDS.

what do they find when they get back to the lodge? well, a few things actually: (1) a bunch of sexy melted candles, which is...confusing, but like, okay, sure, fine, not their business; (2) a bunch of balloons with arrows drawn on them, which...also, uh..strange, but...okay; (3) MASSIVE POOLS/PUDDLES/TRACKS OF MELTED SNOW AND BATHWATER JUST EVERYWHERE; (4) no one has turned the heat on even though they've been there for FUCKING HOURS.

almost as important as those things is what they DON'T find: (1) any sign of the others; (2) emily's bag from rodeo drive.

they are cold. their moods are bad. matt still has himself a hatchet. emily has a flare gun. what do they NOT have? TIME FOR THIS.

they follow the trail of chaos downstairs to the cinema room, where there has clearly been a struggle. pottery shards everywhere. wet footprints just all over the place. they get down into the basement and now there's MORE footprints AND an overturned wine rack, AND a spooky dollhouse with what APPEARS TO BE NAKED BRATZ VERSIONS OF THEM INSIDE OF IT, and this is where things change ladies and gents, because the INSTANT emily davis sees this she utters five simple words that no one else in that game had the brainpower to string together:

"...this is some josh bullshit."

matt looks at it for all of .0001 sec before going yeah, yeah, uh huh, you're right. sure is.

they have a brief conversation to decide whether or not this is THEIR problem in any way. after some debate, they decide it IS, but only because JOSH is the only one who knows how to get the heat going in that FUCKING LODGE. emily also decides her bag MYSTERIOUSLY going missing???? that ALSO has josh's name written all over it. they now have a grand purpose, and that purpose is getting warm and getting emily's shit, and GOD HELP ANYONE WHO TRIES TO GET IN THEIR WAY!!!

as they walk, they keep seeing little clues of chris and ashley having been there, but MOSTLY their time in the basements/sub-basements is comprised of emily being Done With This. it's even colder down there than it was OUTSIDE, and literally every turn they take down there, she is just pointing shit out and going "josh did that. that's josh. this is all josh." the dead pigs? josh. mannequin dressed in sam's clothes? josh. room full of nothing but pervy security cam footage? JOSH.

as they're walking through, they bump into sam who is, uh, well, she's still more or less naked, isn't she, and for a moment both of them are like ah. yes. okay. we've stumbled across Some Weird Sex Thing, fantastic. sam quickly disavows them of this concern.

"SOMEONE STOLE ALL MY CLOTHES" she manages to get out.

"yeah that was josh" says emily.

"NO, JOSH IS DEAD - SOME MANIAC KILLED HIM" sam pants.

"that was also josh" matt nods.

"i - wait, what???" sam asks.

"yeah, chris and ashley said they saw him die, but like, when we asked if they checked the body they both sort of just cried? so we left."

sam's panic is slowly leaving her, replaced by what can only be called confuceptance: confused acceptance. none of this makes sense to her, but also, faking his own death for the vine DOES sound like something josh WOULD do.

this is when they begin to hear screaming from a nearby room.

they walk into said room only to find chris and ashley tied to chairs, both about to be taken out by saws. chris has a gun - no one is pleased with this development, least of all chris. there's...so much screaming. just so much. only here's the thing: emily is ACTIVELY EXPECTING to see josh somewhere in that fucking room, so when she does in fact see some weirdo wearing a clown mask, she's like I TOLD YOU SO! I TOLD YOU!

ah, but josh has already has his victory, you see. it doesn't MATTER that those three came crashing in, because chris and ash are bawling and having a very panicked conversation about how they would've treated their time differently if they'd known they were about to be cracked open like softboiled eggs in a dark basement somewhere, so he comes out to do his little bow...only who he finds waiting for him is EMILY GODDAMN DAVIS and THIS IS NOT THE RELAXING WINTER WEEKEND SHE WAS PROMISED.

he WISHES she would punch his lights out. she does not.

let's return to mike and jess, huh? it's been a while. let's just...let's check in on them.

after a fun, perhaps even ~naughty~ night in the guest cabin, mike and jess wake up to realize hey, there's...there's no food in this place. they joke about having to eat each other. eyebrows are waggled. there is much giggling. they decide to go back to the lodge and insist the others make them pancakes or something. they walk back the way they came the night before, and wouldn't you know it, nothing bad happens. at all.

well, they get cold. but like. again, there are definitely going to be pancakes at the lodge, whether the others like it or not, so. it's fine!

but when they get back to the lodge, what they find is sam comforting chris and ashley on the couch. both are inconsolable. ashley appears to be covered in about five gallons of blood. she doesn't smell GREAT. she IS ruining the upholstery. chris, similarly, looks pretty beat up and mostly just tired.

sam is wearing workout clothes as she strokes their hair and tells them everything's going to be juuuust fine. when she makes eye contact with mike and jess, her eyes widen and she shakes her head. DON'T ASK! that look says. PLEASE DON'T ASK!!!

they don't. mostly because they are cold. and want pancakes. so they walk into the kitchen to find...uh. well, the thing is, josh has been physically tied to the refrigerator.

"hi" he says, acting like things are fine. (they are not). "how ya doing." there is a handprint on his face so red, so bright, so CLEAR, that mike clocks it from 20 paces that that's an emily davis special.

"so" mike says, neither him nor jess commenting on josh being hogtied in his own home. "guess that's a no on breakfast huh"

matt and emily reappear with just about every blanket they managed to find upstairs, barely giving mike or jess a second look. "we got the heat going, but it's taking FOREVER to warm this place up" emily groans, "so like here, or whatever." she gives them the worst blanket in the pile. the pink scratchy one with the satin trim. you know the blanket.

mike and jess exchange a look. before either of them can say anything, the cops arrive, filling the lodge with red and blue lights. "uh" jess says, looking out the window. "so...what's...that about?"

"oh" matt shrugs. "yeah that. josh cut himself in half hamburger-style while you guys were gone. we thought he was a serial killer or something."

there is a moment of silence. mike and jess look away from each other and towards matt and emily. then they look at josh, still tied to the fridge. he does not appear to be cut in half. from the next room, they can hear chris talking about the movie saw. judging from how hard he's crying, sure sounds like he didn't enjoy it much.

mike and jess decide it's none of their business. they do not ask questions. they also decide they're never hanging out with ANY of these people again.

once everyone's home safe and sound, sam decides to take a 6 month vacation as far from her friends as physically possible. she pretends she lost her phone in a tidepool and because of that, can't answer any texts or calls, oh no. chris and ashley end up dating, so maybe josh DOES win in the end, but he himself ends up in a court-mandated anger management-slash-why going texas chainsaw massacre on your friends is wrong class so fast his head spins. matt catches a cold from being out in the snow for too long, and while he's fine after a couple days, man, he misses out on like. at LEAST five workout sessions, and that's devastating for both his gains and his morale.

but the most important thing that happens once everyone is off the mountain is that emily realizes she left her little bag from rodeo drive in her bedroom the whole time. oops.

thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[widow-maximov]

Miscommunication

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, sexual suggestion, some angst.

Summary: Being younger in a relationship can always bring issues, but how will you deal with them is more important.

Word count: 4.5k

My requests are always open so feel more than welcome to pop in a suggestion for the next story :3

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Through out your whole life there was always this strange attraction to women, but not just any women; older women. You would always catch yourself looking at your female teachers rather than girls your age.

Obviously the good looking ones, not the old grandma's that would think they own the school. Nevertheless when you joined the Avengers, you were met with a lot of people who were a lot more older than you but you didn't really care.

For you age is a number and some of those numbers limit you to certain things but you didn't really care. Whilst joining the Avengers you felt like you fit in immediately, which was a big deal to you.

You absolutely loved missions, people blamed it on you being young and had so much energy but in reality, it was just you being you. You loved kicking ass, especially ass that deserved a good beating.

In a way, you and Natasha shared some similarities, the both of you wanted to save everyone and if anything went bad you partly blame yourself for not acting fast enough, that's why missions with you and Natasha always went smoothly.

That didn't go unnoticed by the redhead, she took an interest in you when she noticed how dedicated you were to everything you put your mind to. In a way it reminded her of herself and she knew she wanted to know more about you.

She wasn't much of a open person so she tried her best when it came to you, at first you were intimidated by the Russian but the more you spent your time around the team, the more you saw her relax, she would invite you to movie night when it was only her and Wanda and even went out of the way to train you which you took without hesitation.

Each training session was Natasha flooring you and you being distracted by her, your mind seems to be somewhere else but you were able to hide it around her. Just because you were distracted didn't mean you didn't get better, you could easily floor Bucky if you really tried which was a success for you.

Natasha took it upon herself to teach you a lot of things and how they were done, causing you to develop this feeling of always wanting to be around her.

The more you spend time with Natasha the stronger your feelings have gotten, to the point where the want to kiss her turned into the need. You wanted to distant yourself from her but you just couldn't, her smile, her laugh and the way she would gently touch you whenever she laughed so hard.

It wasn't possible for you to even distant yourself so you decided to face your fears of rejection which was new to you as you were always confident, but confessing your love to someone that could possible consider you as their child made you nervous and scared.

Taking a big breath, you knocked on her door and when she answered, you couldn't move as if you froze right there, causing the redhead to get up and open the door.

There she stood, in shorts, hair loose and a shirt "Are you okay?"

You nodded "Yeah... Can we talk?"

She eyed you first, trying to somehow read of you why you wanted to talk, she moved to the side to let you in, closing her door and facing you "What did you want to talk about?"

You gulped as she finally faced you, you knew this could go two ways, the rejection way or the okay way "I have something to confess to you"

She narrowed her eyes "Did you find someone else to watch movies with?"

You let out a nervous laugh and shook your head "No, no one can replace you"

She smiled proudly at your words "Well then what's this confession?"

You took a deep breath as your eyes locked with hers "I like you"

This time Natasha froze at your words and you stared at her terrified of her next words but there was no words coming from her causing panic to erupt from you.

"It's fine if you don't, I-I just felt like it would be best to tell you rather than distancing myself. You might like people your age and not like age gaps which is fine! I on the other hand don't mind age gap-"

She melted at the sight of you panicking, the way you ranted at the thought of Natasha not feeling the same, what she did next was surprising to you on so many levels.

She wasn't far from you, so she took couple steps which you didn't notice as you were rumbling, she grabbed your face and pulled it towards hers, your lips met hers.

Your body went into shock but the movement of her lips against yours pulled you out and you matched her lips pace, you were melting at her soft lips so when she pulled away, your eyes were still closed with minimum shock coursing through your body.

She laughed slightly which caused you to open your eyes "Found an easy way to shut you up"

You smiled "Does that mean you like me back?"

She nodded as she moved her hands from your face to your neck and your hands found it's way to her hips, pulling her closer "I'll need you to say it"

She rolled her eyes playfully "I like you too Y/n"

Your smile never disappeared as she continued "I don't care about the age gap either, I just care about the person you are"

She opened her mouth to say something but you kissed her this time, she smiled against the kiss and when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against hers, allowing the moment to sink into you.

And that's how you started to date Natasha, the people who the two of you decided to tell were more than accepting of your relationship which was important to you.

Some say you have a secret relationship but for you and Natasha only important people knew and that was enough.. Or well that's what you thought.

Natasha has never been a jealous type of person but when it came to you, some doubts have resurface, she never wanted to voice it to you but she always wanted to just shout from the roof tops that she loves you and that are you are hers.

But when you wanted to just tell close people, she respected you and decided to go along with it, even if it was harder to do so, she had to do it for you.

There were so many people always staring at you, trying to get your attention, flirting with you but you never cared because you had your eyes on Natasha and Natasha only.

You thought telling close people would be best to not cause trouble for the Russian, especially since you are younger this could cause conflict and you didn't want that.

There was some miscommunication between the two of you that neither knew about, causing doubt jealousy and worry. When the two of you were alone, everything was fine but as soon as you stepped out into crowds, all Natasha wanted to do was kiss you so hard that your head spins and mark you in front of everyone as hers.

Today the two of you planned to spend your whole day together, not leaving each others company and just spend this time watching any shows that you needed to catch up on but things changed unfortunately for the both.

You had your head resting on Natasha's chest as she played with your hair, you couldn't concentrate on the movie but how Natasha's fingers felt in your hair, the way she would curl your hair in her finger, letting shivers run down your spine.

Natasha on the other hand was focused on the movie that was playing, she didn't even notice the effect she had on you just by her fingers burying themselves into your hair.

You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you moved your face more into her neck and when the Russian's attention was back on the TV, you attached your lips to her neck, working your way up to her sweet spot and sucking on it lightly.

Her attention shifted as quickly as it was on the TV "What are you doing?" Her voice was mere whisper as her eyes closed at the feeling of your lips against her soft neck.

You kissed up to her ear, slowly making sure to tease her just enough and whispered "I want you Natty"

Her eyes opened at your words, you always knew how to turn her on with just couple of words, she didn't waste anymore time as she straddled your hips and pinned your hands to either side of your head.

You had a slight grin across your lips as her eyes were consumed with lust "What do you want Y/n/n?"

The way her voice lowered when she asked you the question, you knew it was working so you smirked as you stared into her eyes "I want you to fuck me Natty"

That's all she needed, she smashed her lips against yours as her hands started to wondered over your body, trying to get underneath your shirt just to feel your skin against hers, letting your hands free getting tangled in her hair, pulling her even closer.

You moaned at the contact of her slightly cold hand against your stomach, which she used as an opportunity to stick her tongue to explore your mouth more.

As the kiss started to get more heated with you practically pulling off Natasha's shirt, but you were interrupted "Agent Romanoff, Everyone has been requested to Tony Stark's party tonight"

The advanced AI spoke, making the both of you jump, your breathing was heavy as Natasha muttered "We can skip.."

"Tony said no skipping as according to Mr Stark 'It's very important' that the whole team shows up" The AI spoke up again and this time leaving silence behind.

You sighed as you looked at Natasha's still closed eyes who was breathing heavily "We need to get ready.."

She shook her head as she reattached her lips to your neck "We have time, we can squeeze this in"

You bit your lip to suppress a moan, not wanting to fuel Natasha on, you gently pushed her "I take long to get ready and we still need to shower Tasha"

She groaned as she unglued herself from your neck, looking into your eyes this time "Why does this happen in moments like this.."

Your hands moved the hair our of Natasha's face, holding it in place to have a better view on her face "Lucky isn't on our side today"

You kissed her but she tried to deepen the kiss again, only for you to pull away "Natasha..."

Her hand travelled up and down your body, in places that only she knew would make you melt right underneath her, she remembered every little detail about your body which only made this more difficult to stop.

You were already melting but you knew that there were more important things to attend, so you flipped her so now she was below you, you smiled at her and pecked her lips as you gotten up, earning a groan from the Russian.

"You're starting to act like a grandma, get up and get ready"

She raised her head to look at you with her brows raised "I'm not a grandma!"

You chuckled at her defence "Well then get ready and meet me in my room"

She sighed as you walked out, heading to your room to get ready. By the time you finished showering, Natasha was already ready, she was just waiting until you gotten dressed so the both of you can walk to the party.

Dressing was the easy and the fastest for you, you were dressed as soon as you walked out of the bathroom, all you needed was Natasha to zip you up, which she did. You stood in front of the mirror with the redhead behind you.

"You look красивая (beautiful)" You always loved when Natasha spoke Russian to you, there was something about how it rolled off her tongue with ease that fascinated you.

"Ну ты выглядишь потрясающе (Well you look stunning)" You spoke as you turned around to face her.

She raised her eyebrows at you with shock "Since when do you speak Russian?"

You shrugged with a smile across your lips "I might've been taking lessons on the down low"

She smiled widely at you, she knew that it will be her favourite thing to hear now, the way it sounded made her stomach do flips just at the thought of you speaking Russian again.

She leaned down and planted a kiss, resting her forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, in this moment she wanted to tell you how much she loved you but it was stopping her.

Her doubt and fear was stopping her, she was afraid that you would leave her eventually for someone better than her, so she supressed those words as she pulled away "Let's go"

You forced a smile across your face as you linked your arm with hers and walked out of your room. When you gotten to the roof top, you parted away from Natasha and walked towards the team as they complimented you and were practically drooling.

Natasha hated that, she hated how much they drooled over you. She wasn't jealous of the attention you were getting, she was jealous of how they looked at you; As an opportunity to snatch you away from her.

She always avoided confrontation about her feelings, being afraid it would only drive you away, Natasha has been in relationships before but they never worked out, especially when she raised her concerns they called her crazy and things started to only go down hill from there.

She didn't want that, she would rather suffer in silence than lose you and watch you be happy with someone else. People say love is blinding, because it really is, she never managed to notice the things you would do for her.

Of course she noticed but she never really understood why, she was never treated with the same respect and concern as you were treating her. She loved that you tried to always act like you were older which she didn't mind, she just loved watching you try.

For you on the other hand, you felt like you would never be enough for the redhead, being a lot younger than her could cause some doubts in you as well.

She was a lot more mature and understood life a lot more better than you did, she went through much more than you and you were terrified you would never be as close to what she experience.

But even if you were scared, you always tried to catch it up with something, like learning more Russian to understand Natasha's past better, to someone it might seem small but to you it meant everything.

As you were amongst everyone, Bucky was really close to you, he placed his hand on your hip which Natasha observed from the bar and each time the grip on the glass she was drinking from tighten.

Clint made his way towards the Russian with caution as he looked in the way she was looking "What's making you want to strangle this glass Romanoff?"

She sighed as she let go of the glass and looked at Clint "I'm not sure what you are talking about"

He rolled his eyes "You can try fooling others but I know you" He looked towards you and how Bucky had his hand on your hip to pull you closer into him "Where is the Natasha who would've made her way towards him and nearly kill him on spot?"

She shrugged as she looked back at her glass to take a sip of whatever she was able to pour from the bar "Drowning in alcohol"

He laughed "Y/n changed you so much"

She looked at him as she narrowed her eyes which stopped his laughed "Okay, maybe not"

She sighed again "I just don't want to cause trouble"

He eyed her and then the situation you were in as he leaned on the bar "From what I can see, he is just holding her if he did anything Y/n didn't like, she would've pushed him away"

"That's not the issue here, its the fact that everyone wants her" Natasha finally huffed in annoyance.

"Why haven't you told everyone you're dating her?" He asked as he kept his eyes on you.

Natasha leaned back into her hand "I don't know if that's something she wants"

He looked at Natasha with brows raised "You didn't talk to her about this?"

Natasha shook her head to answer Clint "Why not?"

"I don't want to ruin this, you know my relationships always ended up in the trash" Natasha mumbled as she took a drink.

He shook his head at her "Y/n is different, you should talk to her Nat"

As time went on, you have shifted around the place, more people came to talk to you and you were having an okay time, you wanted Natasha to be by your side but she was just sitting by the bar.

You saw Wanda talking to Tony which you took as an opportunity to approach her, she was your best friend and you trusted her with your whole life unlike some people here.

"Wands, hey!" You greeted her as she pulled you into a hug when her eyes landed on you.

"Excuse me, I will go get something to drink" Tony excused himself as he made his way towards the bar.

"Y/n how are you?" She asked with a smile across her face.

"I'm okay but I wanted to ask you for a small favour.." You showed her with your fingers how small the favour was but she knew you well enough to expect something big.

Her smile dropped as she narrowed her eyes "What is it you want?"

You dramatically scoffed "Uh! It's nothing bad!"

"I just wanted you to read Natasha's mind and tell me why she is so upset"

Wanda's mouth hang open as she stared at you "Why don't you talk to her?"

"I know she won't tell me, I just want to know so I know how to fix whatever is upsetting her.."

"Pleaseee Wands" You begged her which usually worked on Wanda whenever you needed her help.

She sighed as she pitched her nose "Only this time Y/n"

You squeaked as you threw yourself at Wanda "Thank you thank you, I own you one"

"Okay okay, I need to breath" She spoke up as her voice changed a little from the squeeze you were giving her.

You let go of her as you closely watch her do her thing, it took seconds for her to come back as she stared at you blankly "What did you read?"

She shook her head "You two are so oblivious. She is jealous Y/n"

You knitted your brows together at Wanda's words "Why would she be jealous?"

"Because she has to watch as everyone flirts with you and she can't do anything about it" She spilled as you looked at you and rolled her eyes at your obliviousness.

She walked away from you when she noticed that you were trying to understand what she just said, you turned your body towards the bar as you started to make your way towards Natasha but you were stopped by Carol.

"Y/n! There you are, I was looking for you" She smiled from ear to ear.

"I actually need to talk to someone-" You tried to get out of her grasp but it was failed.

"You can do that after a game of spin the bottle!" She excitedly spoke to you as she dragged you towards where the team was gathering.

"Spin the bottle? We are teenagers again?" You laughed as you saw everyone gather around the bottle.

Natasha was dragged by Clint to at least be apart of something instead of sitting by the bar. Whenever it was your turn to kiss someone, the bottle either faced nothing or yourself.

You turned around with your back to the team as you hugged yourself and started to pretend to kiss yourself, making the team laugh, even Natasha cracked a smile at your act.

You turned back as you stared at the bottle "Okay, someone else try this because I feel like this bottle doesn't want me to kiss anyone"

Bucky laughed as he placed his hand on your shoulder "Okay, Carol you can go now"

She nodded as she bend down and span the bottle, it landed on Bruce, they both laughed and kissed and then returned to their places.

Bruce span the bottle as everyone watched carefully, it was close to landing on you but it landed on Bucky instead, you looked at Bucky with a laughter and he just rolled his eyes at you, they pecked each other lips as they both pulled a funny face after.

Bucky smirked as he bend down and span the bottle "Maybe you'll be lucky enough to land a kiss today Y/n"

You chuckled as you shook your head "That's not lucky, that's the opposite Bucky"

Natasha looked down as she smirked, she wanted to walk over to you and just kiss you for just saying that but she couldn't, you looked over at Natasha and saw the smirk which caused a small smile to spread across your lips.

The bottle landed on Thor who was next to him, you had a smug smile across your lips "See Bucky! You were lucky enough to earn a kiss from the god of thunder"

Everyone laughed, they kissed and it repeated until it was Steve's turn, he span the bottle as he watched the bottle spin, it landed on Natasha, you suppressed the feeling of doubt as you watched Steve make his way towards Natasha.

Everyone knew they had something between them and that included you to know as well, you wanted to stop them but it was as if something was stopping you.

Steve had a smirk across his lips "I think we are meant to be Romanoff"

Natasha was speechless, he leaned down and her eyes darted to you, the way you stared at them and before she could move, he kissed her. You cleared your throat as you looked anywhere but at the sight of your girlfriend being kissed by her ex.

He moved away from her and walked back to his place with a smug smile, he eyed every guy standing not really thinking Natasha could be into girls as well.

She wiped her mouth as she bend down and span the bottle, you watched the bottle and when it landed on Steve again, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Even if it was a game and the kissing probably didn't mean anything to the Russian, it hurt you to watch Steve think he finally claimed Natasha. You expected Natasha to follow you but she didn't, so you took a deep breath, fix the makeup that ran down your face and walked back out there.

They weren't playing the game anymore as they scattered all over the party, so you made your way towards the bar, getting 2 shots and drinking them in one go without anything to chase it after.

You cleared your throat as you watched Natasha force a smile on her beautiful lips as Steve flirted with her, you knew how she felt and you weren't going to let this go on like this.

You ordered another shot for courage, you definitely needed it and watched as Steve pulled the redhead into him like she was his, you narrowed your eyes which was filled with determination as you marched over to him.

You cleared your throat which caused Steve to look over at you "Sorry Y/n but I'm not available right now" He looked back at Natasha with a smile.

You crossed your arms "Actually, I was going to tell you to drop your hands of Natasha"

He looked back at you with annoyance "Why?"

This caused the team's attention to be shifted towards the scene, Wanda smiled as she watch you finally do something about this miscommunication between you and Natasha.

"Could you step away so I can show you?" You asked him calmly as he dropped his hands from Natasha and took a step back.

You watched him before taking a deep breath and shifting your attention to the woman you love "What are you doing Y/n/n?"

"Y/n/n?" Steve questioned but was ignored as you sadly smiled at Natasha.

"What I should've done in the first place.."

Natasha was going to question you but you were faster, you took a step forward as you pulled her into you, just like you done many times before, and smashed your lips against hers, it was a gentle kiss something that happened often between the two of you.

Steve raised his brows at what was in front of him, Clint had a smirk across his lips and Wanda cheered you on as the rest just stood there shocked.

You pulled away as you looked over at Steve "Why Steve? Because Natasha is my girlfriend"

The redhead's eyes widen at your words as she had a smile across her lips, he backed away with his hands up and nodded as he walked away not wanting to argue.

You looked back at Natasha "I'm sorry Natty"

She was going to protest against your apology but you continued "I should've spoke with you about this decision before making one for the both of us. I didn't want to make you to be uncomfortable or cause trouble with the team"

Natasha shook her head "I'm sorry as well детка (baby) I didn't speak up about what I felt either, and you would never make me uncomfortable, I have the best time with you by my side"

You smiled at her words as you placed a little kiss on her lips, whilst everyone around you made cute sounds at the scene before them, you turned your head to look at them with practically tears in their eyes.

Natasha giggled quietly as she rested her head against the side of yours since your face was turned and she whispered "Plus you looked so hot when you get jealous"

You chuckled at her words as you felt the courage wear off but still having enough to say what you finally wanted to. You pulled away from her as you stared into her eyes, swallowing the fear down as she still had a smile spread across her lips.

"I love you Talia" You spilled it out as you had a glimpse of fear in your eyes.

This only fuel her smile to spread more widely at your words "I love you too Y/n/n"

She kissed you as you let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the touch of her lips, with everyone cheering it was only her to could feel and hear. Your heart beating one hundred miles per hour as she confirmed she felt the same, proving that no matter how old the both of you are, she still was just as afraid as you were....

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

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[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

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Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

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

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

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

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

[ahockeywrites]

4 times you stayed at his + the 1 time he stayed at yours - Matthew Tkachuk

A/N: Hi everyone! I had this idea and within 48 hours I had it fully written. I hope you enjoy this 5k of fluffy Matty! Thanks to @calgarycanuck for proof reading this!!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, explicit fem!reader

One

It was a typical Saturday night for the Calgary Flames who were celebrating a big win over the Canucks. Your best friend, Matthew Tkachuk, had invited you and your roommate out to come to the bars. Jess had been quite friendly with Noah Hanifin, and you just hoped they wouldn’t be using your apartment as a place to spend the night.

You tugged down the sleeve of your deep green bodysuit and looked across to the bar, hoping to see Matthew ordering you another rum and coke but instead saw him surrounded by 5 beautiful women. Women who you thought were more beautiful than you. As you let out a small sigh, you turned to Lauren and struck up a conversation with her. She had persuaded you to join her for a hot yoga class followed by a brunch in the next few days to catch up properly as you had been working so much. The friends you had made through meeting Matthew were amazing, but it didn’t take a genius to notice that the feelings you had for him were slightly more than friendly. 

“I’m gonna go and get myself a drink,” you announced to no one in particular. As you pushed your way to the bar, you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist. “Hey you,” you heard the voice of Noah in your ear. “You want a drink?” he asked. You nodded and asked him for a double dark rum and coke. If Matthew was busy with girls, you thought, you might as well let someone else get you a drink.

Noah passed you the finished drink and you took a large gulp of it. “Please tell me this isn’t a bribe so I can let you and Jess go and fuck in our apartment?” you groaned, figuring out what he was doing. Noah did this often; when he wanted you to take Jess out of the apartment to set up for a dinner date or more often than not when he wanted the apartment to be empty so the two of them could spend time wrapped up in each other.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault she’s so hot,” he complained. You rolled your eyes telling him that you’d find somewhere to crash. Usually, it was the Giordano’s spare room, but after you quickly scanned the bar, you noticed they had already left. It turns out, the only people left at the bar were Matthew and his entourage, Jess, Noah and you. You had no choice but to try and pry him away from the girls surrounding him.

You finished your drink and made your way over to where he was sitting at the bar. As you tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to see you and offered you a huge smile. Matthew got up out of his seat, pushing the girls away and gave you a large hug. “How are you going?” he asked, genuinely as he hadn’t seen you much during the night. A few of the girls gave you a dirty look, but you ignored them knowing that Matthew would rather spend quality time with you.

“I’m good, just not sure where I’m gonna be sleeping tonight,” you mentioned hoping he would get the hint.

“Noah and Jess going at it like rabbits again?” he questioned, knowing what you had to deal with. You nodded and told him that Gio had already gone home so using their spare room was out of the equation. “Just stay at mine, it's no bother,” he said with a smile. “You wanna go now?” he asked.

Matthew had never offered you his spare room to stay at, no matter how close the two of you were. Or was it that Lauren always took you under her wing and he wasn’t able to offer you the room? He thought that it was a simple offer but you were freaking out inside. The not so little crush you were harbouring on him was going to be made more obvious, surely?

“Yeah, I’m working an afternoon shift tomorrow so kinda need the sleep,” you replied. 

“Sure, lemme close up my tab and order an Uber,” he smiled back. Matthew reached over to grab the attention of the closest bartender and passed across his credit card. He pulled you into his grasp to make sure you didn’t blend into the crowd. As he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket, he led the two of you to a slightly less crowded area so he could easily order the car home.

The outside air was cold, and Matthew noticed that you began to shiver as the wind picked up. Quickly, he slid his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders, “the car is only a minute away,” he informed you as you tried to warm up under his jacket. It wasn’t like Matthew was warm in just his jeans and t-shirt, but he knew his mother would kill him if he didn’t even offer you his jacket.

Matthew didn’t know why he just got up and left the girls at the bar as he was sure one of them would have come home with him. The friendship the two of you shared was strong and slightly flirty, but he also knew that the girls who were at the bar all arrived together and if he didn’t take you home safely, he would be worrying about it all night. For his sanity, this was what he kept telling himself, not that, god forbid, his feelings for you exceeded the bounds of friendship.

As if the car he ordered knew he needed to stop thinking, it arrived stopping directly in front of the pair of you. The driver lowered the window and Matthew checked it was for him and going to the right place. Once he was sure this was actually for the two of you, he opened the door for you allowing you to slide into the back seats. You shuffled your way across to let Matthew have some space. The drive back to his place was short, but he never let go of your hand, even letting his thumb brush over your knuckles occasionally. It felt more than friendly to the both of you.

The car abruptly stopped outside of Matthew’s apartment building and he jumped out to open the car door for you. It was strange, his behaviour, you thought, but maybe it was because you had never stayed the night in his guest room. He greeted the concierge in the lobby and directed you towards the elevator.

You had been to Matthew’s apartment before, but not like this. You knew he lived on the 35th floor and he had an amazing view of Calgary out of his bedroom window, but you had probably spent a total of one hour there, aside from the pre-drinks he occasionally held. He led you into his apartment quickly and stood in the kitchen, unsure what he should do. “I don’t know what you usually wear to sleep, but I can grab a shirt for you? And I think Taryn left makeup wipes in the spare bathroom when she was last here?” he seemed to be questioning himself more than asking you. One of his arms reached up to scratch his neck to add to the awkwardness.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “a shirt would be great thanks.” Matthew pointed you in the direction of the spare bathroom and you started taking your makeup off. You looked at yourself in the mirror and just hoped that Matthew wasn’t gonna see what you looked like barefaced. In your mind, he couldn’t see you without your additional layer of confidence. You walked back through to the spare room to see him sitting on the side of the bed with a shirt in his hands. “Urm, I hope this is comfy enough,” he stuttered, unsure of what he should say.

“Thanks, Matty,” you replied, taking the shirt from him but not wanting to undress in front of him. He stood quiet for a second before realising he should leave and let you sleep.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well,” he said, bringing you in for a hug.

“Goodnight Matty,” you replied.

You walked back into the bathroom to change out of your restricting jeans and bodysuit to put on the soft shirt. Initially, you didn’t notice what he had given you, but when you looked in the mirror you saw the logo of the London Knights. And sure enough, on the back was the number 7 and the name Tkachuk. You laughed softly, he knew you weren’t a Flames fan so he would never be able to get you to wear his current jersey, but this was a step closer to him getting his best friend in his jersey.

Two

He didn’t mean to let you stay over again, you were just so tired after being his plus one to a Flames event. It wasn’t like you had found the event boring at all, just after an afternoon shift at the restaurant, followed by getting ready with Lauren and Jess and then having to control Matthew at the charity event, you were tired and ready to sleep.

Matthew had to almost drag you out of the Uber because you had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the car. “Y/N, c’mon, just a little further then you can crash for the night,” he encouraged you. You lifted your arms up, indicating that you wanted him to carry you up to his apartment. He groaned but lifted you up to carry you bridal style through his apartment complex. Somehow, you had fallen back asleep in the elevator on the way up and he had to try and open his apartment door without waking you up. He was successful and gently walked through his apartment to lay you down on his guest bed. 

It took a few moments for him to remember where the makeup wipes were but as soon as he figured it out he went to find them and started slowly removing your makeup. He thought he was doing a good job until he figured out you had put on a pair of fake eyelashes. There was no way he would be able to take these off without waking you up or hurting you and he decided that the former would be the safest option.

“Hey,” Matthew whispered softly whilst gently shaking your shoulder. You stirred slightly in your sleep so he shook your shoulder again with a little more force. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to see a shirtless Matthew with a slightly dirty makeup wipe in one hand and a confused look on his face.

“You didn’t have to take my makeup off for me,” you spoke with a lot of sleep in your voice. 

“It’s okay,” he replied, “I was almost there but you’ve got these things stuck to your eyes and I really don’t want to hurt you.” You laughed having forgotten that you had put falsies on and told him to wait there and you’d try and take them off without your usual products. Luckily, Matthew had been able to detach the inner corner of both sets of lashes and you quickly pulled them off. It was slightly painful as you didn’t use your normal cleanser to help them detach, but they were removed and that was the main thing. You quickly disposed of them in the trash can in the bathroom and saw Matthew waiting on the edge of the bed with a shirt for you to wear. He handed it across and let you go back into the bathroom to change into it.

“Matty,” you began, “do you still have the makeup wipes out there?” You wanted to take off the rest of your eye makeup but were pretty certain that he had them somewhere near him.

“Yeah I do, come back out here so I can take the rest of it off for you,” he replied. You were slightly confused but went back through to sit opposite Matthew on the bed. He tugged you so you were straddling his lap and started removing the rest of your makeup. He was so deep in concentration that he didn’t notice you placing your hands on his hips to keep yourself still. If you didn’t do this, you were almost certain his hockey strength would have sent you flying. 

You asked him if he was done and he nodded telling you to get comfy in bed. Obliging, you made your way under the comforter and almost instantly you fell asleep. Matthew walked back in to see you completely knocked out and went to brush some hair off of your face. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered.

Three

Best friends stay over at each other’s houses, right? You convinced yourself that staying at Matthew’s house whilst he was on a week-long road trip was okay, simply because he had a better kitchen than you and his bathroom had a bath compared to just a shower in your apartment.

Matthew had given you his spare key to use when you needed to go in and check on the houseplants his mother had given him as an apartment warming gift. You did question why Chantal had given him a selection of plants but you didn’t complain as it meant you could take advantage of the amazing kitchen set up he had. As you dragged your bags filled with baking ingredients into the apartment, you noticed that there was a note left on the kitchen counter. It read:

Y/N, thanks for watering the plants on this roadie! I may have taken the extra brownies you made for me on this trip because the boys wanted something to remind them of Calgary. Stay safe, Matt :)

You smiled, knowing that the team always devoured any baked goods you brought along and you had even helped some of the children who were at the events with decorating fairy cakes. The kids adored you to the point some of the parents would get you to babysit them when they wanted a date night and how could you resist? It seemed like each of the children had you wrapped around their little finger as you found it hard to put them to bed at their usual bedtime as all they wanted to do was something creative.

The memories you had made with the children had to be pushed aside as you were here to bake, and you were unsure of how much you were going to make. First, you put the milk and butter in the fridge to make sure it was cold and unpacked everything else onto the kitchen counter. Then, you grabbed your laptop out of your backpack and loaded up the recipes you were planning on making. A batch of chocolate chip cookies, a tray of brownies and an apple pie was the bare minimum you wanted to make. You hoped that there would be enough time to make a set of 24 blueberry muffins too but would be happy to snack on the blueberries throughout the day. 

You fiddled with the dials on the oven to allow it to preheat and connected your phone to the fancy speaker system Matthew had in his house. The playlist you chose was one you and Matthew had curated to be perfect for relaxing days and it was exactly what you needed on your day off. The music allowed you to become lost in the baking and you didn’t realise the time was so late until you looked out of the large windows. The sun had set so you took a quick look at your watch to notice that it was nearing 9 in the evening. How you had become so engrossed in the cooking was a mystery to you as this seldom happened.

Notifications lit up your phone and you chose to reply to Matthew first, letting him know that his plants had been watered and you had even bought some fertiliser to help them grow. Then you dropped a quick text to Jess letting her know you were just going to stay at Matthew’s apartment for the night rather than risking an Uber alone at night. Sometimes you hated being a woman and not trusting society but you knew that Matthew wouldn’t mind you staying at his place as long as he knew you were safe.

It seemed as if your tiredness hit you quickly because once you ordered some food for a late dinner and had watched the Flames game, you were half asleep on the couch in the living room. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the couch and removed the blankets you had been hiding under to the other couch. The walk to the spare room seemed too natural and you noticed that there was a small collection of skincare products sitting on the counter next to the sink. You realised that they were minis of the same things you used. Matthew couldn’t have gone out of his way to figure out what you used and get some for you in case you stayed over again, could he? It seemed like something he could do but you thought he would do that for someone he considered to be more than a friend, unless? No, you thought to yourself, he couldn’t like you in the same way you liked him. 

Shaking your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts, you started to cleanse your face and then add the moisturiser on top. Once you had finished your nighttime routine, you walked through to Matthew’s bedroom and his closet to try and find something to wear to bed. The shirt you were looking for was the same one you had worn the first two times you had stayed over at his place. It was slightly hidden behind a few pairs of jeans and the occasional St Louis t-shirt but you found it and it was just as soft as you remembered. You slipped back into his spare room and quickly changed into the shirt.

There was just one more thing you needed to do and that was to box up all the baked goods you had created earlier. You made your way back to the kitchen and found the Tupperware you brought along solely for this purpose, then popped them on the kitchen island with a note for Matthew telling him that you were in his spare room and that he could eat as many of the snacks as his meal plan allowed him to. You also sent him a text warning him that you were staying at his in the spare room for the night as you didn’t want to head back to your place by yourself in the dark and he should be quiet if he arrives back before you were awake. He did reply, but much later so you were already asleep.

Matthew gently opened the front door to his apartment, not wanting to accidentally wake you from your sleep, seeing as it was 5 am. He placed his equipment bag down in the hallway and took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of many different baked goods. Even if it was 5 am, there was no way in hell he was going to turn down something you had made. He waltzed his way across to the kitchen and was greeted by multiple boxes, each with a label on informing him what was inside each of them. A small giggle left his mouth as he read the note that you had left on top of the boxes and he chose to have a piece of the brownie before he went to check on you in the spare room.

The large comforter engulfed your body and he noticed how at peace you looked. Matthew wondered if you would ever be the one he came home to after a long road trip.

Four

6-0 loss. 10 minutes in the penalty box. Ejected from the game. This was the worst game you had ever seen from Matthew and knew that he would need space, so The text you received from him was unexpected.

Come over

Short and straight to the point. You were unsure what to expect but replied saying you were catching an Uber and were gonna be over in about 15 minutes.

Knocking on the door felt more appropriate rather than using the key he had gifted to you to use as you didn’t want to walk in to see him destroying plates and glasses. As the door swung open, a dishevelled Matthew silently greeted you. He was shirtless, displaying the bruises he had obtained from a night of hockey. You followed him into his place and went to get two glasses of water because you knew that he wouldn’t have drunk anything for himself.

The sounds of muffled crying filled the apartment and it tugged on your heartstrings. The feelings that you had developed for the St Louis native made you almost drop the glasses, but you were able to make your way back to the family room. 

Matthew was curled up, in the foetus position, on the largest couch. Tears flowed from his eyes, he was feeling emotions that he rarely felt after a game. He was a player who left all his feelings from a game on the ice, but it was impossible to do this when you’ve been ejected from a game. 

He knew you wouldn’t turn down an invitation to see him because he had noticed the extra time you spent at his apartment. But he thought it was for the kitchen, not the feelings you had for him.

It wasn’t like Matthew didn’t have feelings for you, ever since the first night you had spent at his place, he knew he wanted to be more than friends with you. But he was respectful, he knew how he would want someone to treat Taryn, so he treated you the same way. He assumed that you wanted to be no more than friends, and he was happy with that. 

The advice you gave him, the jokes you made (often at the expense of his teammates), just the company you offered him when he needed it. He couldn’t lose that, you were too good of a friend for him.

You placed down the drinks on the coffee table and just looked at him. He looked broken on the outside and it just made you think how broken he must be on the inside. It wasn’t a good game for the entire team, but his individual performance wasn’t brilliant either. Matthew was competitive, anyone who had ever seen him knew that.

“Matty,” you said. There it was, he thought, the one nickname that no one else could call him except you. 

You ran your hands through his hair, letting his tears continue to flow. It was hard for you, as a friend, to see someone this close to you go through this. But you knew that he needed to let his feelings out, and just be there for him when he needed you, whenever that was.

His right hand reached for one of yours and you offered it to him. It grounded him, knowing that he was safe in his house, safe with you, safe with his emotions. “I played shit, I don’t deserve to play in the NHL, let alone have the ‘A’ on my chest,” he spoke aimlessly. 

“Matty,” you consoled him, “one game does not define you as a player, you as a team member.” After this, you pulled him into your body, hoping that he would accept it. You remembered that he liked hugs when he wasn’t feeling amazing, so you knew it wouldn’t be pushing his boundaries. 

He continued to cry, wetting your T-shirt in the process, but he needed this. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping that wouldn’t be too far.

“Y/N,” Matthew sniffled, “I just wanna be held as I sleep.” 

“Of course, anything for you,” you replied softly. You gently unwrapped yourself from around him and offered him your hand to walk to his bedroom. He followed you and sat down on the side of the bed. “Just gotta brush your teeth, Matty,” you encouraged. He sighed but followed you to his en-suite.

“I’ll let you brush your teeth, I’m gonna find something to wear to bed,” you informed him. He pouted slightly but let your past. You were familiar with his closet and the exact shirt you were looking for. A London Knights game-worn jersey, it was soft and perfect for sleeping in.

It wasn’t the first time Matthew had seen you in his jersey, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time. He smiled to himself, the first time he had been genuinely happy all night. He tried to stop you from going to the bathroom to brush your teeth and take your makeup off but you were able to make your way past.

You tried to be quick with your skincare routine, somehow you had a bottle of everything you needed in Matthew’s bathroom, but knew you couldn’t rush any of the steps. As you were applying your final product, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. “I thought you were gonna be quick,” Matthew complained as he nuzzled his head into your neck.

“I was trying,” you replied as you turned to face him. He was so close that your foreheads were touching and you were able to look directly into his eyes. “We should-,” you started.

“Bed, yes,” he finished for you. All you wanted to do was kiss him, but you couldn’t take advantage of him when he wasn’t feeling good. He unwrapped his arms from you and offered you his hand so you could walk back to his bedroom. Matthew refused to let go of your hand as you both got into bed, and you allowed him to be the little spoon because he needed to be in someone’s embrace tonight. 

“Goodnight Matty,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you as he was already asleep.

plus one

It was a drunk mistake that should never have happened he said, but nothing he said could prepare you to see photos of your now ex-boyfriend making out with some random girl when he had been on a ‘work trip’. Jess tried her best to help you by bringing you ice cream and watching shitty television with you but there was only so much she could do when Noah came over to take her out on a date. You were happy for her, you really were but seeing someone happy in a relationship was not what you needed right now. 

You allowed yourself to think over the good times you had with him, but they were so few and far between. He had pulled you away from the friends you had made out of the Flames players and they all became worried about you and suddenly you realised how toxic the short relationship was. Quickly, you scrambled to find your phone and noticed it had been two weeks since you had last texted Lauren when usually you would be texting daily and you hadn’t spoken to Matthew in three weeks. Normally, it was common for the two of you to physically see each other at least every day.

But then it clicked, your ex must have been jealous of the friendship you had with Matthew and his teammates. You understood slightly as you did have a crush on Matthew but that died down when you started dating him. It was a trust issue, he didn’t trust that you would stay just friends with them so he had to pull you away. It was slightly ironic, how he didn’t trust you as he thought you might cheat on him, but then he went and cheated on you.

There was only one person who could make you feel better and he would understand how shitty your ex was and how you needed to rebuild the friendship with him. As soon as you sent him a message, he was quick to reply saying that he was on his way to your apartment with Chinese food and a pint of your favourite ice cream. It was at this you noticed the butterflies forming in your stomach, the crush you had never went away, did it? 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a knock on your apartment door and went over to open it. As soon as you saw Matthew’s face you broke down in tears again. Quickly, he brought you into a tight hug, somehow not dropping the food he had brought. “C’mon, Y/N, let’s head to the couch and enjoy the takeout I’ve got?” he asked, unsure if he was asking you or himself. Your head might have been pretty much attached to his chest but he could feel you gently nod in response. 

He offered you his hand and walked towards the couch. You sat down first and he started unpacking the food onto the coffee table. “Just sit back and find something to watch,” he instructed. You followed as he said and he quickly left to grab some cutlery from the kitchen. You flicked through Netflix and settled on Brooklyn 99 because it could just stay on in the background. Sighing, you picked up your phone and reread the DM you had received from the girl’s best friend. You didn’t notice Matthew standing behind you until he picked your phone out of your hands and put it in his pocket. “Tonight, we’re gonna watch Jake Peralta attempt to solve some crimes, enjoy the takeout, maybe drink some wine, and forget about that asshole,” Matthew affirmed. You sighed again but knew that he would be getting his way. 

Matthew passed you a plate and some cutlery before disappearing back into the kitchen to collect a bottle of your favourite wine and some wine glasses. He sat down next to you on the couch and poured two generous glasses of wine. As soon as the food was opened, it was like the two of you hadn’t spent any time away from each other. The conversation flowed perfectly, as did the wine and after two episodes of B99, the two of you were slightly wine drunk, which you continued to tell Matthew was the best type of drunk.

“I missed you, Matty,” you admitted. He sent you a soft smile but knew that he felt the exact same way. Your ex was toxic for you and he was glad that you had gotten out of that relationship. The smile you had on your face was real and one of the purest he had ever seen in his entire life. Your happiness radiated to him too and he started laughing as you began to make silly faces at him.

You were lucky that Matthew had seen you wine drunk before and knew you were getting close to crashing and needing to be near a bed was almost a necessity. He wasn’t sure how, but he was able to get you to your bathroom, even as you were stumbling the entire way there. There was no makeup on your face so he quickly used a face cloth to clean your skin and was able to find some moisturiser to use on both of your faces. It was the most genuine smile he had seen you ever have in a long time and he was able to adore your beauty. 

“‘M sleepy,” you groaned, giving Matthew a small shove to try and encourage him to move out of your way.

“I know babe,” he replied, not noticing the term of endearment he had used for the first time. “You just need to put something on that you can sleep in.” You nodded your head and dramatically walked to your dresser and pulled out a matching set of short black satin pyjamas. It wasn’t a pair you usually chose to wear, but they looked nice. Clearly, your drunk head was trying to impress Matthew. You jumped directly on top of the soft comforter and didn’t care that you should have been underneath the blanket because you fell asleep almost immediately. 

Matthew came out to see you sleeping softly on the bed and gently picked you up to place you under the duvet and onto the mattress. A soft kiss from him was pressed to your temple and you subconsciously smiled in your sleep. He moved around to the other side of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, hoping this was the last night you were in his arms but not his girlfriend.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Thoughts on what Renesmee thinks of Jasper and vice versa? And if she finds out how much Edward hates Jasper, do you think she'd start hanging around him a lot out of spite?

Thoughts on Renesmee's relationship with her family and thoughts on her relationship with Edward.

Interesting question, anon.

Renesmee's Thoughts on Jasper

I imagine Renesmee's not quite sure what to think of Jasper. Given Edward, I'm sure Edward all but forbid contact between them. Jasper has the worst control of the lot of them, WHAT IF HE ATE HIS DAUGHTER?! Whether this is a possibility is moot point, it doesn't seem to be from Bella's newborn reaction and Renesmee's pleasant but not mouth watering smell. The real issue is that Edward despises Jasper and doesn't want him to be a potentially corrupting influence.

I imagine the very large elephant in the room, that vampires in fact eat people, is something Edward doesn't wish to acknowledge and tries to hide from Renesmee to the best of his ability.

That girl's going to have one weird, sheltered, and very fucked up childhood.

And Jasper was once the most vampire vampire around, participating in never ending wars over territory. Edward barely tolerates this guy in the house, I imagine he gives Jasper a similar talk that he gave when Bella was human on how he should give Renesmee wide berth.

That, and I imagine Jasper's never quite sure what to do with Renesmee. She's this weird, alien, creature who changes every time he blinks. What are they even supposed to talk about?

So I imagine Jasper's on the periphery of Renesmee's life. She's distantly curious about him and how he came to be with the family (neither Edward nor Bella will give her details and say something about coming from "... A very different family, sweetie") but she doesn't really know him and he never seems all that interested in talking to her.

He's not a pillar in her life. He's just kind of around, included with the Cullens because of Alice, and just part of the weird backdrop that's her general life.

Jasper's Thoughts on Renesmee

I imagine he finds her to be an extraordinarily strange person. Oh, he likes her, loves her even, but is not quite as caught up in the "IT'S A MIRACLE" that everyone else is.

I imagine he's more consumed by thoughts of what Renesmee represents.

First, the relief that he didn't have to take her out into the woods and murder her as an infant. Had she been an immortal child in actuality, he would have done it, and he both knows that and knows he'd have been the one who had to do it.

He really dodged a bullet with that one and I imagine that haunts him to this day.

Otherwise, there's the question of what happens with the rest of the world.

Children are something that vampires have not only died for but murdered for. Immortal children are against the law not only for their devastation but because it was that common. Multiple covens have died for this. And now, a miracle has occurred, vampires can have biological children.

I imagine Jasper realizes what this means.

Renesmee's birth, the publicity of it, and the Volturi not outlawing it then and there means there will be a wave of rape and murder as vampires try to beget their own children. Human women are going to die en masse in agony as vampires both try to impregnate them and fail and when they are successful.

But his family's so enraptured in the little miracle that is Renesmee, the fact that Edward and Bella could have this child, that he doesn't want to be the one to bring this up. Especially since it doesn't really affect them, what of the outside world to the covens?

And it's hardly Renesmee's fault and she shouldn't feel guilty for her own existence, no matter the consequences.

This, combined with Edward being Edward, means that Jasper probably keeps his distance as he contemplates deep thoughts. He likes Renesmee, enjoys having her around, but doesn't need to be especially close to her in the way some of the others do.

Besides, Jasper likely believes himself unworthy of raising children and that he somehow would, in fact, be a corrupting influence. Best to stay out of the way.

Renesmee Finds Out How Much Edward Loathes Jasper

As much as the Cullens might wish otherwise, the charade they undoubtedly put up for Renesmee will crumble bit by bit, and all the little bits of truth will leak through.

She'll realize that Aunt Alice and Rosalie don't actually like each other that much, that Edward not only left her mother but is a horrifying creep, that Jake was once in love with her mother and only feels the way he does about her due to imprinting, that Carlisle lived with the Volturi not just for a few years but decades, Jasper's past, and everything else.

That Edward likes some family members more than others, that he loathes Jasper, is just one of these secrets that will some day bubble to the surface.

I imagine this would intrigue Renesmee, she'd likely try to find out more about him, either through the reluctant Jasper himself or through one of the others (my money's on Carlisle).

She might hang out with him for spite but I imagine she would not hope for much success.

Before hanging out with Jasper, to get the family/her mother's attention, I imagine there's a lot of acting out Renesmee does. At high school, Renesmee makes herself the problem child: she skips classes, shoves kids in lockers, and just gets into general hijinks that gets Carlisle called into the principal's office.

Ironically, this makes the Cullens look like a more normal family as their children aren't all weirdly perfect. However, it likely doesn't get Renesmee the attention she actually wants and instead two seconds of pouting from Edward and Bella who are "so disappointed in her".

Renesmee hangs out with Jasper, they're probably not even going to notice.

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 1 (SMUT)

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (male receiving oral), allusions to sex, reader works in a brothel, PTSD, anxiety, panic attack, mention of drugs, guns, character death, typical Narcos themes.

Word count: 4000>

Series Masterlist

*reblogs appreciated! Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support me!

It was the hottest summer in twenty years; or at least that’s what the weather lady had told you when you were getting ready for work this morning. 

You’d been searching for your best friend Rosa all over the brothel, asking your colleagues if they’d seen her anywhere. They all shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders before disregarding your presence completely so they could get back to their conversations. You understood their cold nature to a degree. You were new and fresh-faced in Bogotá, and this sex work was the only thing paying your rent. Sometimes you got the feeling they didn’t like you, but you did your best to shrug it off. The manner of your job wasn’t an easy one, that’s for sure. But Rosa had been with you from day one. Not only was she your only friend, but also, she was a mentor, and she taught you everything you needed to know about being a successful sex worker in the heat of Colombia.

You finally found Rosa outside the brothel, leaning against the brick wall, her sunglasses perched on the curve of her nose. Immediately something felt off. You couldn’t put your finger one what exactly it was, but everything about Rosa’s demeanor concerned you. The cigarette that she held between her fingers was almost completely puffed out, with just a noticeable pink lipstick stain on the foot of the filter paper. You stood next to her and leaned against the same wall, by her side. You noticed her shoulders relax a little at your presence, but Rosa still didn’t say a word. It was strange. She was usually bubbly and talkative, eager to tell you all the gossip she had learned from her clients. 

“Peppermint for your thoughts?” you asked Rosa, diving into your pocket and bringing out a carton of peppermint candies. As you waited for her response, you placed one on your tongue and sucked on it longingly. You’d been working long hours and it was the first thing you’d eaten all day.

“In a minute,” she said, dismissing the sweet and wiggling her finger in the air. She huffed and narrowed her eyes, watching the busy roads intently before taking one final drag off the cigarette. She stumped the end out and threw it away, but the cigarette that was once in between her lips was now replaced with her thumb as she nervously bit at her nails. “Has Limón  come by today?” she asked you eventually.

You knew the cab driver. He’d frequented the brothel a number of times. Rosa often had a lot to say about him until suddenly, she just didn’t.

“Not that I know of,” you replied innocently, but something still felt so incredibly wrong. “Rosa, is everything okay?”

Rosa’s head snapped to face you, and for the first time you noticed the fear strike in her honey coloured eyes. She sighed and pursed her lips together, before raising her hand and cupping your face. Her thumb grazed the height of your cheekbone and she finally smiled. But it wasn’t like her usual smile. It was soft and— sad.

“Of course,” she told you. “Nothing to worry about.”

And you knew better than to push Rosa, so you decided to leave it at that.

Silence with Rosa was comfortable. You both observed the bustling streets of Bogotá. You were thinking about the simpler things in life, like whether or not you could afford the luxury of canned spaghetti hoops in advance of this month’s rent payment, or where in the brothel you’d left your signature lipstick. Rosa, on the other hand…

“He’s an agent you know.” She announced suddenly.

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Who? Limón?”

Rosa let out a bark of incredulous laughter, and you assumed as such. “No no, not Limón. I’m talking about Peña.”

You felt your cheeks warm up at the initial mention of his name, and you tried to fight back a smile. You had to keep cool in front of Rosa. Sure, the whole brothel knew about your crush on your client but only Rosa’s opinion mattered to you. “Javier?” you quizzed, as if you needed to question who Peña could possibly be.

Rosa rolled her eyes playfully and you stifled a laugh, realising how silly you sounded. “You’ve got it bad huh?” Rosa acknowledged and you felt a flush of shame creep upon your cheeks. “It’s okay. When I first started out I had countless crushes on my clients.” she confessed, and her revelation made you feel somewhat better about yourself.

“How do you know that… about Javier?” you wondered out loud, biting your lip and trying to sound as casual as possible. You’re the girl he’d been fucking with for the past two months and he hadn’t dared open up to you about a single personal detail in his life. Truth be told, that’s what made him different from the other guys. So if anyone was to know anything about the man, it should be you. Why wasn’t it you? You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that your beautiful best friend was seemingly omniscient. “Have… have you been sleeping with him?”

Rosa frowned apologetically and smoothed out your hair. “No honey. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promised and you nodded your head slowly. You had no reason not to believe her but she still hadn’t answered your question. Just as you went to prod her further, she opened her mouth. “But be careful. Crushes on clients can be dangerous. You never really know who you’re working with. Javier has a… reputation amongst the brothels in Bogotá.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat… a lump that you didn’t even realise you were holding back. “He seems nice. Respectful.” you admitted with a slight shrug of your shoulders. You’d be foolish to dismiss a word of advice from Rosa, but warning you about Javier…? You knew him better than that. You knew him. You had every inch of his body memorised. You could spot his scent from a mile away. You knew he was a good guy.

Rosa hummed slightly before squinting at an oncoming truck that was pulling up outside the brothel. “Speak of the devil.” She muttered.

“Javier!” you couldn’t help but beam excitedly. You quickly turned to face Rosa. “Could I borrow your lipstick? I lost mine and I-” Out of nowhere, Rosa pulled out her pink lipstick and passed it to you. You took it willingly and gave her a quick hug of gratitude. “Thank you.” you mumbled into her neck before pulling away. 

“Be careful!” Rosa called after you as you ran back inside the brothel and into the lobby where you’d wait for Javier.

Be careful. You chuckled a little at her words. You had nothing to worry about. You quickly applied your lipstick with as much precision as possible and checked your hair in one of the many mirrors. Your heart rate picked up speed the second you saw him enter the lobby. Today, he was wearing one of his trademark colourful button down shirts - this one, a pale yellow colour that was comparable to the sunshine. He was frowning, just like always, but the bright colour on him radiated an air of enlightenment.

He looked around the lobby in search of you, and when his eyes finally landed on you, he immediately felt at ease. You waved him over with a smirk and he took off his aviators, hanging them in the v of his shirt. His eyes were beautiful, like the deepest shade of cocoa. You made an unfortunate habit of getting lost in them at any given moment.

“Hi Javi,” you cooed, placing the palm of your hand on his chest. “You’re early today.”

“I can’t stay long,” he grumbled. “Have to get back to the office. Can we make it quick?”

You tilted your head curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

Javier brought out his wallet and handed you enough peso’s to cover an easy blowjob. He looked up at you, hopefully, with an adorable sheepish grin on his face. You took the money from him and nodded your head before taking his hand and guiding him to your room.

It was the room he’d grown completely accustomed to the past few months. He knew his way around. He was comfortable. He closed the door behind him and immediately worked at undoing his belt. You glanced over at his payment that you’d discarded on your dresser and thought long and hard. You really liked Javier. Enough so that you felt weird about taking his money. He was different to the other guys. You fucked men because they were paying you, but you fucked Javier because you liked it. You wanted it. Every second he wasn’t with you… you only craved him more.

Too lost in your own thought, you’d forgotten the man of your dreams was standing by the door waiting to get sucked off. He cleared his throat awkwardly and your head snapped in his direction to face him, your eyes going comically wide. You felt embarrassed that you’d left him waiting and quickly paced over to him, kneeling down and unzipping his denim jeans. He was already hard, judging by the familiar shaped imprint against his thigh.

“Everything okay?” he hummed as you pulled out his cock. His question turned into a slight garble as soon as your fingers graced his leaking head. You gathered his precum and rubbed it along his thick length and his eyes immediately snapped shut.

“Yes. Why?” you asked innocently before pressing a kiss to his slit. You looked up at him through your eyelashes with wide doe-eyes.

“Looked like something was preying on your mind.” Javier muttered, scrunching his face up in pleasure as you licked a stripe along the base of his cock. You extended your hand to massage his balls and you continued to pump at his length.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” You beckoned further. “To let go?”

“Fuck,” Javier hissed. “More.” he pleaded and you quickly obeyed, wrapping your lips around his head and pushing his cock deep into your mouth. You felt his body tense up and he threw his head back against the wooden door. “More!” he choked out.

You hollowed your cheeks and sank your lips as far as you could go, so his groomed pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. Tears began to prick your eyes and you pulled off him quickly to gasp for breath. Javier was heaving and panting too, and you took a second to look up at him and lick your lips. He was so perfect, a thin sheen of sweat glistened along his collarbones, only just noticeable under the dim amber lights of your room. Before he could catch you staring like a hopeless lovebird, you reattached your lips around his cock and finished up the blowjob, feeling more than satisfied when his ropes of cum spilled into your mouth.

Once his cock softened enough to tuck himself back in, he zipped up his jeans and redone his belt but not before helping you stand. Meeting respectful guys like Javier Peña in your line of work was a rarity, that’s for sure. Still you couldn’t help but think about Rosa’s words as you watched him smooth out his shirt. No visible police badge. No signs that he was an agent. To say it irked you was an understatement. How did she know he was an agent? There wasn’t a chance he told her… not when he was so secretive with you. You’d been fucking him for two months now and you didn’t know a single detail about his life. You didn’t know where he lived, or how old he was, or if he had any siblings. Rosa might have been your best friend, and she swore to you that she wasn’t sleeping with him on the side, so how did she know?

Of course, it could’ve easily all been bullshit. She could’ve been scheming a way to get you to fall out of love with him. Nobody likes a cop. You couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard you tried, but you knew for sure Rosa would never want to hurt you. You were annoyed for letting yourself get so irrational. You just wished… you wished that he’d talk to you. Treat you more than just some whore he got to use at his own beck and call. Your stomach twisted when you realised that was exactly all you were. A fool facing the wrath of unrequited love. You sighed and grabbed his jacket from the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, taking his jacket and swinging it over his strong forearm. It was too hot outside to wear. You nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything.

For the first time since meeting Javier Peña, you had let yourself get hurt, and for no good reason either. You couldn’t confront him about it. You couldn’t tell him no matter how much he asked you. You just had to suck it up and get over him. He was a client and that was all he could be. Nothing more. Rosa was right. Falling for your customers was a dangerous deal.

“You’re my favourite, you know.” Javier announced, his voice low and heated. You locked your eyes on his. 

“What?” you asked, completely taken aback. 

“You’re my favourite girl,” he clarified with a small shrug, as if his comment wasn’t life-changing. Just like that, you were once again putty in Javier Peña’s hands. Your determination to get over him lasted all of five seconds. Before you could reply, he took a step closer to you, breaking any distance and placed a hand on your cheek. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin noticeably longer than usual.

You weren’t mad anymore. Your feelings for him were restored just like that. Your eyes were wide as he pulled away from you and licked his lower lip. You felt like you were melting over the sweet menial gesture. You wanted to say something - anything. You wanted to pull him on top of you and crash your lips against his. But no matter how hard you tried to say something, no words came out. All you could manage was a shy little smile. It was the same smile that made Javier’s knees weak. He squeezed his hand into a fist to resist the urge of kissing your perfect lips and instead readjusted his sunglasses. You ducked your head down shyly and opened the door for him.

“Stay safe.” he uttered.

The same two words he told you after every visit. Stay safe. It was almost as if your client had a genuine care for you. You nodded in affirmation and offered him one last smile before he left the brothel and headed back to ‘the office’. Do agents even work in offices? You wondered.

You paced around the corridors of the brothel to find Rosa, wanting to return her lipstick and also tell her about Javier. You were excited. He really said you were his favourite girl. Out of all the girls, you were his favourite. To say you were beaming was an understatement. 

You caught her speaking to Javier as he walked out the brothel front door and you felt an anxious knot in your stomach tighten. It was hard to make out from the distance, but by the looks of it, Rosa was crying. The conversation was only brief, and Javier nodded along to whatever she was saying, before handing her a card and leaving for good. You officially had questions. You went to push through the crowds of people but a man much taller and larger than you placed a hand on your shoulder and pushed you back.

“Whoa,” you stumbled. “Can I help you?” He made some crude gesture with his fingers indicating the type of sex he wanted with you and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose in disdain. “Yeah okay,” you agreed with a small sigh. “Just a second though, I have to find someone. My room is 20 if you would like to wait for me--”

“No,” he growled, pinning you against the wall. “Now.”

You glanced behind his shoulder searching for Rosa but she had evidently already disappeared. 

“Okay.” you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip and leading him to your room. You supposed you could tell Rosa about Javier after you’d dealt with this guy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He’d left about ten minutes ago, and you were just finishing up in your room, getting ready to clock out of work and call it a day. The brothel lobby was often loud and bubbly, but the second you heard all the muffled chatter stop, you knew something was up. You pulled your purse over your shoulders and locked your room before walking down the corridor. As you approached the lobby, you heard loud footsteps and yelling. The second you stepped foot in the main room, you saw the man Rosa had been asking you about earlier in the day, and your heart sank.

“Where the fuck is she?” Limón shouted. He and another man paced around in circles. It had gone quiet because the men had the other girls, your colleagues, pressed against the wall, holding guns to their heads. Your eyes widened in horror and you immediately brought your hands up in the air to surrender.

“Are none of you whores talking? Where the fuck is she?” the other man hissed. 

“La Quica,” — so that was his name — “Shut the fuck up. You’ll draw unwanted attention.”

They hadn’t noticed you yet. There was still time to escape. But your feet were frozen to the ground. How could you dare run away and leave the girls here, unable to fend for themselves?

Limón pressed the handgun to Martzia’s head. “Where is she?” he spat.

“Who?” Martzia gasped.

“Rosa!” Limón bellowed, clocking the gun in anger. “Where the fuck is Rosa?”

“I- I don’t know!” Martzia cried. She was visibly shaking in terror. All the girls were.

“Bullshit!” Limón snapped back, and within a second, he pulled the trigger and Martzia was dead on the floor.

On impulse, you looked away, but you’d already caught an eye-full. Martzia’s blood was not only on the wall behind her, but it was on Juliet too, who was now a whimpering mess. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength to look back at the girls. Most of them had their eyes closed and their tear stained cheeks glistened under the dingy lights.

“You. Shut the fuck up.” Limón  growled before moving over to Juliet and pressing the gun against her head. She choked out a sob and apparently that was enough for Limón to pull the trigger on her as well. You slammed your hands against your mouth and let out an incomprehensible noise. That got Limón and La Quica’s attention. La Quica grabbed you and pinned you up against the wall so you were only centimetres away from Martzia and Juliet’s limp bodies.

“How long has that bitch been standing there for?” Limón asked angrily and La Quica shrugged his shoulders. Limón pulled on your hair so he could get a good look at your face. “Hey La Quica this whore must be new. Haven’t seen her around before. Nice ass too.” He smirked, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing it. “Do you know where Rosa is?”

You didn’t. But neither did Martzia and that had got her killed. Even if you did know where Rosa was, you wouldn’t give up that information. You couldn’t. Your heart was slamming against your chest and when you felt the handgun press in between your shoulder blades you thought you were going to pass out right then and there.

“Limón.”

It was her. It was Rosa. You felt the handgun slowly slip away from your back as both Limón and La Quica turned around to face your best friend. When you were certain they weren’t looking at you anymore, you turned around too so you could take a look at Rosa yourself. When your eyes met hers, you saw her face soften.

“Rosa!” Limón hissed, running over to the girl. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it wasn’t you.” Limón grabbed on to Rosa and began to shake her. “My apartment was fucking raided, Rosa. A kilo of coke, gone. They know. They know we’ve been chauffeuring Escobar.”

You were baffled. We? She’d been helping chauffeur Pablo fucking Escobar? You shook your head in disbelief, praying it wasn’t true. She’d been lecturing you about the dangers of your job when she’d been doing the most dangerous thing of all. And how could she not tell you? If she had just told you… maybe you could’ve helped her. Maybe you could’ve done something. It couldn’t be true.

“I called the cops,” Rosa confessed, her voice emotionless and her face stone cold. “I called the cops and they put me through to the DEA immediately. I met with an agent. I told him everything I knew. I ratted you out Limón, and you should thank me.”

Limón raised his hand and slapped Rosa across the face. “You bitch!” He shouted. “How could you do this to me Rosa? How could you fucking--”

Then, a gunshot.

The sound was blinding and everything went in slow motion. You swore that your heart stopped beating as tears streamed down your face. You screamed as you watched her body fall to the ground.

“La Quica you fucker! You killed her! You killed Rosa!” Limón cried out in anguish, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. “What the fuck man! What the fuck!”

“She confessed,” La Quica huffed, trying to calm his friend. “I know you liked her but she’s a fucking whore, Limón! She made her mouth go. She’s the reason you had the fucking DEA sniffing out your apartment. We’re not only in trouble with the cops but if Escobar finds out… shit man. I’m scared.” 

Both La Quica and Limón were visibly freaking out. They had put their guns away at least, but they were pacing around in circles again and shouting at each other. But you couldn’t hear a single thing. You couldn't see anything... just the blur of their bodies. You couldn’t smell and your fingers felt numb. You felt like you were falling. Your chest was tight and your heart was broken.

“We have to run Limón, three fucking gunshots. Three dead bodies. The cops have probably already been called.” La Quica informed Limón as he helped coach his friend’s panicked breathing. You looked down at Martzia and Juliet’s bodies on the floor and then your gaze followed over to Rosa’s body. As the men scrambled out the brothel, you fell to your knees and crawled over to your best friend.

“Rosa,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you picked up and cradled her body in your arms. Her blood was all over you, and you felt like you could throw up at any second. “Rosa please. I- Rosa. No no no what… What did you do Rosa?” You chanted your best friend's name and cried into her body.

What did she do?

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[duuhrayliegh]

A Friend of Yours - pt. 2

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: reader meets up with Bucky, Sam and Zemo to figure out this Flag Smasher drama

word count: 6386

warnings: canon lvl violence? SPOILERS FOR TFATWS, (it’s the episodes with yn in it, like rlly) language throughout the whole thing, i think that’s it.

a/n: i’m actually really proud of this guys. there is a part three that has WAY more Bucky x YN content that’ll be posted in a few days <3 i hope y’all love this!!

i just want to remind y’all that this started out as a request from @dramaticwittch it won’t let me tag you for some reasons babes :((

be sure to read A Friend of Yours - pt 1

A Friend of Yours - pt. 3 is up too!!!

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

check out my other writing here!

xoxo ray <3

You had the same contacts as Sharon, so finding the Three Musketeers was no problem. It baffled you that Sharon had access to satellites. Makes you wonder what she was doing during those five years you were gone. When you got to their safehouse, you were impressed to say the least. It was nice, cute little pillars next to the dining area, some couches, just enough to make it livable. One thing that struck you as strange was that it was also empty, they weren’t there.

“Fuck it.” You dropped your bag onto the dining table and walked over to the kitchen area. You opened several cabinets, searching for alcohol that you could drown your frustrations in. You found an unopened wine bottle, releasing a little cheer, you popped the cork and brought the bottle to your nose. A sweet plum scent invaded your senses, grabbing a glass and pouring it full for yourself before re-corking the bottle. You grasped the cup walking to the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching the doorway, then the door being forced open. Muffled conversations were taking place during their entrance.

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky said as he waltzed into the room. Sam followed closely behind him, Zemo immediately going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, Karli’s the only one who’s fighting for them.” You said, startling the pair of men who were now lounging on the couches. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” You dropped next to Bucky, offering him a sip of your plum flavored wine.

“She’s not wrong.” Bucky shot Sam a look, questioning his thought process. “Look, for five years these people were welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs.” Sam sighed, “Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild.” You stopped listening halfway through Sam’s speech, thinking of Sharon. You only refocused when Bucky placed his metal hand on your knee, giving you a look, asking if you were okay.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asked after you nodded at him. His face never left yours, until Zemo approached the three of you on the couch. He was holding a tray with a clear teapot and cups. He placed it on the coffee table, stepping back and clutching a cup for himself.

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo was always one for the dramatics, so you’re sure that he had something else up his sleeve. Bucky squeezed your knee and you knew he was trying to calm himself.

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” He made a noise of acknowledgement, “I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky hauled himself off the couch to stand in front of the Baron. You gaze flicked to Sam’s, unsure of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky puffed his chest out, clenching his jaw as he gripped Zemo’s teacup and chunked it at the concrete wall behind him. Zemo flinched as Bucky began talking to him.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Sam stood quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

“Take it easy, Buck. Don’t engage him.” You were taking a drink of your wine, as you observed Zemo’s actions.

“Watch out, he’s going to extort you and do that idiotic head tilt thing.” Zemo’s eyes darted to your figure on the couch as he straightened his head. Sam left to make a call, you assumed Sharon and Bucky followed closely behind him. Zemo offered you cherry blossom tea to which you declined by holding up your wine glass. As Bucky left the room, the Baron released a sigh of relief causing you to laugh at his actions.

“You’re really scared of him, aren’t you?” You teased the man who was now glaring at you.

“If you have made him as angry as I have then you would be too.” You shrugged your agreement. You hadn’t made Bucky mad, and you definitely hadn’t been a part of reactivating him as the Winter Soldier to reach your goals.

“Yeah, well you’re a dumbass, so.” You got up and walked to where Bucky and Sam were gathered. Sam’s phone was still pressed to his ear, but you could tell you were catching the tail-end of his conversation. You could hear Sharon’s voice over the phone talking about the Power Broker. In all your years of living and conducting business in Madripoor, you never tangled with the Power Broker. That didn’t mean anything, it was just suspicious because of how successful your operation with Sharon was.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, dumping the rest of your wine in the sink, casting a glance at an appalled Zemo. “It was shit wine.”

“Zemo has a contact that can show us where the funeral is, and that’s all we got.” You nodded before looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

**********************************

You were walking down the cobblestone roadway with the Three Musketeers when a voice shouted at you from the stairway before you. “Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit!” A scruffy looking man approached you. Both him and his partner were clad in tactical gear, the scruffy one’s resembling a Walmart version of Steve’s Cap suit. Bucky spread his arms out.

“How’d you find us now?” The man’s partner responded to Bucky with equal annoyance.

“Come on, man. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” As he got closer you could read Hoskins on his vest.

“No more keeping us in the dark.” Scruff said before anyone else could fire back. He stopped walking in front of Zemo, effectively stopping your forward motion. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” You were walking just behind Bucky to his right and you watched him cock his head back, his voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

“He did that himself, technically.” Scruff’s face contorted as Bucky talked.

“This better be an unbelievable explana--” Scruff’s voice was cut off by Sam’s hand bumping into his chest.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Zemo began talking over the group around him, explaining what was going on. You remained quiet, observing the interaction between Scruff and the Three Musketeers. Clearly, the Three Musketeers did not like him and so you assumed he was the ‘new Cap,’ whatever that means. The group began walking again with Zemo leading the pack.

“Alright good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.”

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Scruff was insistent but so was Sam.

“Look, the person closest to her just died, she’s vulnerable.” The group had stopped walking again, focusing on the conversation. You could see the wheels turning in Hoskin’s head as Sam spoke. Scruff was not having any part of what Sam was suggesting.

“What? No. Wait, no! No. Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Scruff ran ahead in front of the others, stopping the forward motion, once again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people still in it.” This was news to you, deciding to stay offline in hopes of remaining under the radar. The back and forth continued until Scruff turned to Bucky.

“You gonna let him do this?” Bucky tilted his head at the man. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse. And he’s not my partner.” You knew Bucky was referring to himself in Winter Soldier mode. Your heart hurt for him to have to go through this again with some clueless nobody.

“And last I checked, he’s a grown ass man who makes his own decisions, Scruff.” Your arms crossed over your chest. This had been the first time you spoke since Scruff and Hoskin’s had arrived.

“Who the hell is this?” Scruff pointed at you. “You break her out of prison too?” Sam interjected before you could sass back.

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is right in my wheelhouse.” Scruff’s gaze hadn’t left your face. He continued staring at you as he countered Sam’s claim.

“Yeah, I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Hoskin’s hand came up to rest on Scruff’s shoulder.

“Wait, John. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Scruff was not happy with Hoskin's agreement to the situation. Scruff said something to Zemo, who mostly ignored him, acknowledging the little girl waiting under an archway. The group began moving toward her and you focused on Bucky.

“Hey, you okay?” He just nodded at you, denying you the pleasure of a verbal response. You’ll take what you can get. Bringing up the rear of the group, you entered the factory type building last. The little girl pointed up some stairs, and Zemo translated. Sam walked up behind the girl, making him way up the stairs as Scruff handcuffed Zemo to a metal contraption.

“You got ten minutes. Then we’re doing things my way.” Scruff yelled after Sam, who darted his eyes at you and Bucky, a silent instruction to the both of you. Scruff rested his weight against a table, holding Steve’s shield in front of him. His breathing became increasingly worrisome, an ode to how stable he was in the moment.

“You aren’t looking so hot over there, Scruff.” Bucky shot you a warning look, but it didn’t deter you. “The government is really harping on you to get this shit contained, aren’t they?” Scruff pushed off the table, bringing the shield around his back. You were leaning against a pillar near Zemo and Scruff made his way over to you. His face was about six inches from yours as he spoke.

“Do you know who I am?” He was trying to intimidate you, which clearly wasn’t working.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Scruff’s eyes darted over your frame, a look of recognition washing over his features.

“I know who you are.” He glanced at the clock across the room before looking back at you. “I could arrest you right now. Enemy of the State, standing before me right here.”

“We’re not in that state, dumbass. Technically, you don’t have jurisdiction.” The corner of your mouth raised in a smirk as Bucky called your name. You pushed off the pillar behind you to stand next to Bucky, who was leaning against the railing of the stairs.

“Don’t antagonize him, Y/N.” Bucky berated you, to which you shrugged a shoulder. Scruff began pacing back and forth, frustration getting the better of him.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Hoskin’s tried to calm Scruff down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.” He shot a look at Hoskins, then the clock, then Bucky, making a decision in his head. “I’m goin’ in.” Bucky rose to his full height, not allowing Scruff to get by him. “This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” You watched Bucky’s jaw clench, you could see the anger bottling up. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.” Bucky was an immovable fortress of solitude. “Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Oh shit.

You watched as Bucky’s resolve faded, allowing Scruff to step around him. Bucky was tired of being the cause of other people’s deaths. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Sam could take care of himself, he just didn’t want the burden any longer. He was finally free of being a murder machine, finally able to rinse his hands clean. Scruff knew just which buttons to push to get what he wanted.

Scruff busted into the memorial site, guns blazing. You trailed behind Bucky who was fighting against Hoskin’s to try to reach Scruff. Karli and Sam were previously engaged in peaceful conversation, until Scruff announced that Karli was under arrest. Betrayal laced her features as she looked at Sam, defending herself against Scruff advances. She threw Scruff’s weight into Sam, launching them both into the table behind. Bucky took off after her, chasing her through the halls. You crouched next to Sam, making sure he was okay.

Sam recovered quickly, racing down a different corridor leading to another stairway. You followed close behind, allowing Sam to attempt to navigate the area around you. The two of you eventually went down enough of the wrong corridors, that you met up with an equally confused Bucky. You head perked up at the sound of gunshots somewhere in the building. Not sure who the culprit was you turned to Bucky and Sam, who looked just as panicked.

The three of you retraced your steps to find Scruff standing over a knocked-out Zemo with crushed vials wetting the floor. Scruff tossed a glance back at Hoskins and then one to the three of you on the staircase landing. “What did we miss?” Sam directed his question at Scruff, who didn’t dignify him with an answer. Scruff nodded to Hoskins before walking away from the rest of you.

“Thanks for your help, asshole!” You shouted after him.

*******************************

Hauling Zemo’s deadweight back to the safehouse was a job that you and Sam decided Bucky was fit for, being a super soldier and all. Through much complaining and whining on Bucky’s part, he did get him to the safehouse relatively injury free, dumping his body on the couch, jostling Zemo just enough to wake him up. Bucky promptly left the apartment after dropping Zemo off, going to clear his head was the explanation you got as he left.

You huffed, discontent with everything that was going on. You walked to the kitchen, wetting a rag and tossing it at Zemo. “For your head, cover your eyes, it’ll help.” You then popped a few cubes of ice in a glass and poured whiskey over it, handing it to Zemo as well, tapping your temple at him. You went back to the kitchen, jumping onto the counter, letting your legs dangle over the edge. Sam had pulled out a laptop and was typing furiously.

“Were you ever offered it?” You knew Zemo wasn’t talking to you, but to Sam, who hadn’t looked up from the laptop screen. You zoned out of their conversation, trying to decide what Sam was sending Sharon now. “Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” This made Sam pause and turn to face Zemo, who continued talking. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people.” Zemo removed the rag from his eyes, locking gazes with Sam. “Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how god’s talk?” You interjected, then you asked quietly, “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” It was a valid concern. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” Bucky waltzed into the apartment, stripping his jacket from his shoulders, giving a perfect view of his two contrasting arms.

“Something’s not right about Walker.”

“You don’t say.” Sam quipped, closing his laptop and facing Bucky.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky jabbed at Sam, sticking to his guns on this.

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam was exasperated in his delivery.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” You turned to Bucky.

“Hey. Back off, Buck.” Bucky was going to say something in reply when the door burst open again. In walked Scruff and Hoskins, all gung-ho about something.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go.” He pointed a finger at a now standing Zemo. The whole room began shifting, Sam in front of Scruff, Zemo to the side out of direct view, and Bucky to your other side, glass in hand. “I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Sam stopped before Scruff, annoyed.

“Let’s be clear, shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.” You added from your spot on the countertop. Scruff pointed his finger at you.

“And I’m taking her too.” Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking Scruff’s view of you. You placed your hand on his left shoulder, letting him know you were still there.

“I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Scruff puffed out his chest, attempting to intimidate Sam.

“How do you want this conversation to go Sam, huh?” He stepped back slightly, “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” Taking on a condescending tone with Sam, making your brows raise. Suddenly a spear lodged itself in the pillar next to Scruff’s face, all eyes darted towards the woman across the room. Two more warriors walked in, holding spears by their sides and Bucky looked resigned. This was new territory for you, who the fuck are these people? One of the women stepped forward near Scruff. She spoke at Bucky in a language that sounded vaguely familiar to you.

“Release him to us now.” Scruff ignored her instruction, deciding to step towards her, holding his hand out for her to shake.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America.” You scoffed loudly.

“No, you’re not!” You received a look from Sam at your comment.

“Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk through this, huh?” Sam stepped forward, warning Scruff against tangling with the Dora Milaje.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Your hand balled into a fist, quickly covering your mouth.

“That’s a burn, Scruff!” You yelled like the little shit you are.

“Y/N! Cut it out.” Sam snapped. Scruff, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to place hands on the Dora he was speaking to. She quickly brought her spear up to force his hand off her shoulder, then bringing it downward into the back of his knee and finally bouncing it off of the front of his helmet. She launched her foot into his chest while he was dazed, sending him backward into the spear behind him and face planting on the ground below. Scruff recovered quickly, sliding his arm into the straps of the shield to protect himself from the spear coming at his body.

The three warriors began fighting with Scruff and Hoskins, much to yours and Bucky’s delight. Sam backed up to stand next to Bucky, who crossed his arms over his chest. Sam looked at Bucky.

“We should do something.” You had just barely heard Sam say it when you and Bucky yelled at the same time.

“Looking strong, John!” “You’re doing great, sweetie!” Bucky gave you a look at your term of endearment, not understanding that it was a patronizing use of the word. The warrior battling Scruff was about to drive her spear into him, until Bucky gripped the handle, stopping her attack.

“Ayo!” Bucky yelled at her. “Ayo! Let’s talk about this!” Ayo had effectively yanked Bucky towards her body, then throwing him backwards. Sam stopped another warriors spear before it drove into a downed Hoskins. The last warrior threw her spear at Scruff, trapping the shield against the table. She began her approach to him and Sam yelled your name to help him.

You got down with a groan, unhappy that you had to save this asshat. All movement was stopped when you heard a metallic thud against the floor. Your head snapped to a now one armed Bucky, his vibranium arm laying on the ground. You released an audible gasp as Ayo walked away from Bucky, his blue eyes wide. Everything around you faded as you watched a broken Bucky, kneel to pick up his metal appendage. Your eyes flicked to Sam, who was just as shocked as you.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam gestured to Bucky’s immobile arm.

“No.” He swung his arm around once to restart the systems. You heard Hoskins checking on Scruff’s wounded ego, but that didn’t matter to you.

“Bucky. Are you okay?” He avoided your question, grabbing his jacket and telling Sam that Zemo had gotten away. You held your arms out in front of you, what the fuck? Are you the enemy now? You followed after them, not sure where you were going. You got closer to Bucky, grabbing his left arm and yanking him back to you, making his attention be on you for a second or two. “I’m talking to you, dickwad.” His eyes hardened as you continued. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened back there, I’m assuming that has to do with you not being the Soldier anymore. I don’t really care. What I care about is if you’re okay or not.” You stopped walking, still holding his arm.

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” Bucky inquired.

“I want you to fucking talk to me. I’m here for you to unload on.” His brows scrunched and you realized what you said. “Oh my god, not like that, sicko. Well, I mean--”

“Y/N.” Bucky smiled at your humor.

“There, see? How hard was it for you to smile. Just talk to me. I’m making sure you’re okay. Don’t shut down, I hate it when people do that.” Bucky went to say something else when the both of your attentions shifted to a concerned Sam.

“She said what?” A pause, “Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know.” He sighed loudly, “Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys.” He tried to calm the other person down. You began walking again, Bucky asking quietly.

“What happened?” Sam dropped the phone to his collarbone.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Bringing it back up to his ear, he continued. “Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash, alright? Let me know when you get there.” You turned your attention to your surroundings. The bland streets offered little to no security, but they did give too many vantage points to count. “She wants me to come alone.”

“I’m coming with you.” Bucky fired back, not changing his mind about this one.

“Yay, more friends. She’ll love that. Where we going now?”

*********************************************

You’ve never seen Sam as mad as he was when he walked into that building. Although you weren’t sure if it was anger or if it was betrayal that he was displaying as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Her accent shone through with every word. You could tell that she didn’t want to hurt you. Her demeanor was relaxed, her guard was up, but she was being civil, almost like a politician. You were good at analyzing the people around you, so when Karli mentioned Sam and Bucky just being tools she really meant it. She wasn’t interested in hurting people she deemed innocent.

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice snapped you back to reality. The two of you hadn’t spoken since you left Madripoor.

“Scruff’s coming, guys and you know it’s not going to be pretty when he does.” Bucky jumped over the ledge and Karli followed suit. Jumping into Bucky, slamming his body into the post. You ran alongside Bucky to the location Sam had sent to your phone. By the time that you had gotten to the building where Scruff was, you had lost Bucky. Taking an entrance that was already knocked open you heard gunshots from a few floors above you. With your gun raised, you scanned the room for any friendlies.

“Y/N, you’re about to come up on Hoskins. He’s not moving, may need an assist.” Your brows furrowed as you entered the room cautiously.

“How the hell do you know that, Shar? How did you get access to satellites?” You questioned as you approached a tied-up Hoskins. “Need some help, Battlestar?”

“I totally had that.” He said as your knife snapped the zip tie around his wrists.

“Yeah, yeah.” You held your hand out, hauling him to his feet. “It’s okay to be the damsel, ya know?” He shook his head at you, not engaging in your hilarious banter. “Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios.” You shoved your knife back into your thigh holster, leading the way to where the others were.

When you walked in, Bucky had just caught a knife that Scruff had so deflected. He twirled the object in his right hand, ready to defend against the Flag Smasher attacking him. Their fight was quick and ended with the Smasher on their back, the knife Bucky was holding embedded in the floor inches away from their face. You jumped in, helping Sam fend off another Smasher when suddenly Bucky’s fist flew by your face.

“You’re welcome.” He darted off to deal with the others. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Scruff being held by a Smasher and Karli coming with a knife in hand. You started towards her to stop her, until you saw Hoskins attack from her other side. He tackled her to the ground, Karli bounced back quicker than Hoskins, allowing her to throw a punch at Hoskins. Your jaw dropped as you watched his body fly into the concrete mainstay behind him. His whole body slackened and Karli stood in shock.

Scruff was struggling in his captors hold, thrashing about to get to Hoskins. Once he was free, he shook Hoskins and pushed his fingers against his neck, checking for a pulse. “Hey, hey. Hey. Lemar!” You stood silent in between Bucky and Sam, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t until Scruff stood again that you knew what he was going to do. He had a half-second head start, but it was long enough that he was able to reach the Samsher that was holding him back before you could reach Scruff.

You had to push through the crowd to see what was happening. The Smasher had his hands protecting his face against the slam of the Captain America shield that was being hammered into him. You gasped and had to turn your face into Bucky’s shoulder. This is not happening, but it was.

And the whole world saw it too.

***********************************

The next time you saw Scruff was in an abandoned warehouse. He was talking to himself, yelling about different things. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. John Walker had taken the serum and it was enhancing all the wrong things. Scruff was kneeling, resting his hands on the bloodied shield before him. You were on Sam’s right when Scruff walked up to you.

“You guys should see a medic. You don’t look too good.” He paced in front of the three of you. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky’s voice remained calm. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Scruff sent Bucky a disgusted look.

“I’m not like you.”

“You convincing yourself or us, Scruff?” You recognize that this probably isn’t the time to pull his strings but he wasn’t thinking clearly anyway.

“Listen, it was the heat of battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Scruff never stopped pacing, his hand flexing in the shield.

“You gotta give Sam the shield, Scruff.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, getting a little close for comfort.

“Oh, so that’s what this is.” He leaned forward, “You almost got me.” His index finger jabbed into your chest then rested there as he spoke. “You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.” Came Bucky’s reply before all hell broke loose. Bucky and Sam rushed Scruff, fighting for a way to get the shield from him. Scruff sent Sam flying backwards with a swift kick to the stomach. This gave you the room you needed to launch yourself onto his shoulders, attempting to flip him using his own body weight and your momentum. Your move distracted him enough that Bucky got a few decent hits in, but it really just served to piss him off further. He whipped one arm around, gripping the waistband of your jeans and dumping your weight off his shoulders. He threw you into a wooden shipping container, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

You watch, as you lay there gasping, Bucky get beat to his knees by Scruff and Scruff’s attention is turned by Sam flipping in the air, kicking the shield to the side. You rose to your feet, readying yourself for the opportune moment. Once you found it, you flung yourself at Scruff, sending the both of you to the ground and the shield away from the both of you. You resituated yourself to straddle his stomach, this position didn’t last long because he flipped the both of you. Slamming your back against the ground, he gripped your wrists, yanking them way up high causing you to groan out at the stretch. He released you but not before delivering a swift punch to your cheek.

Your vision blurred, but you could make out Bucky going head to head with Scruff again. Scruff threw the shield at Bucky after kicking him into a lift. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch the shield and shift it to his own arm before Scruff attacked him again. Scruff pressed the shield tight against Bucky’s body, then began speaking to him.

“Why are you making me do this?” You and Sam shared a look then watched as Scruff tossed Bucky clear across the room into an electrical outlet, short circuiting his arm. Sam flew at Scruff, trying to catch him off guard. He was unsuccessful in his efforts, ending with Sam facing Scruff as you crouched in Scruff’s six.

“This isn’t you, John.” Sam began trying to reason with him. He is who is way past reasoning, not Karli. Scruff’s head tilted as he spoke in that condescending tone again.

“We could’ve been a team.” Sam didn’t say anything. He deployed his wings, flying past Scruff and sending a small grappling hook to try and take the shield. Scruff flipped through the air, then braced himself against one of the lifts. You came up from behind him and tackled him off the lift, sending Sam to the ground as well. As you landed, you hit your head on a piece of broken concrete, disorienting you. The shield was out of Scruff’s hands, and he wasn’t happy about that. They both dove for the shield but Scruff managed to get to Sam first, landing on top of Sam.

“I am Captain America.” Scruff grunted out as he ripped Sam’s wings from his suit. You watch in horror as Scruff holds the shield, ready to give Sam a face lift. Bucky knocked Scruff off just before he could land his hit. Scruff had pinned Bucky to the ground after driving Bucky’s head into the side of the shield. You hauled yourself to your feet again, wrapping your arm around Scruff’s neck, hindering his movement. Sam came from the front, delivering a harsh blow to Scruff’s face. You continued to hold your chokehold as Bucky and Sam pried the shield off his arm. You heard a sickening crack as Sam withdrew from the hoe down. Bucky rose to his feet and spit out the blood collecting in his mouth, reaching out his hand for you to take.

You walked over to Sam, you hoped that would be the end of it all. Lo and behold though, Scruff got up yet again. “It’s mine.” He growled possessively, starting towards Bucky again. Bucky ducked lifting Scruff over his shoulder and Sam threw his whole body weight into Scruff who was dangling off to the side of Bucky. The three of them laid on the floor, bloodied and sweaty as you stood over them.

Bucky rose to his knees, the shield in front of him and he used the leverage of it to stand fully. He dropped it next to Sam, pausing for a few seconds and then walking away completely. You stood next to Scruff, in disbelief. “This just got a whole lot more complicated didn’t it, Sam?” He didn’t reply to you, but you watched as he tried to wipe the blood off the outer rings of the shield.

***********************************

You stood outside the building where Donya’s funeral was held, listening to Sam talk to someone else named Torres. Bucky had walked right past you, not a word said. He was shutting down and running away, at least that’s what it looked like. You wouldn’t know because the whore wouldn’t talk to you. You sat down on the stairs, head in your hands frustrated about what was going on. Your phone began buzzing in your pocket, so you took it out ready to deny the call, until you saw who it was.

“Shar.” You sighed into the phone speaker.

“Y/N. How’s it going?” You could hear the smugness lacing her tone.

“Alright, just get it over with. Tell me that you told me so, just make it quick.” She scoffed.

“I mean, I did tell you so, but now I don’t want to tell you that I did.” You laughed at her.

“You realize you just did, though?” You sense that she was smiling.

“What happened?” Her tone switched into a serious one on a dime.

“Walker took the serum, went batshit, killed a Flag Smasher, and then beat the shit out of Sam, Bucky and me in order to keep his precious shield because he ‘is Captain America.’” Your voice morphed to imitate Scruff.

“Well, that was bound to happen sometime. He’s all over the place.” You nodded, pulling the phone away from your ear and switching to speakerphone so you could talk and scroll through Twitter.

“He’s already trending. Captain America Kills Innocent Man, what a great headline. You know the worst part about all of this, Shar?” You switched the speakerphone off, bringing it back to your ear. “I don’t even think that Karli is in the wrong here. She’s doing what she’s doing for good reason, she’s just doing a shit job of getting her point across.”

“Yeah, well she’s becoming a pain in everyone’s asses, so that puts her on everyone’s shit list.” Sharon took a deep breath before continuing. “You need to get out of there. I know you’re not technically in the States, or alive, but you know how the government is. They’ll find a way to get you, if they want you.” She was lecturing you out of love, you knew, but it was frustrating for you still.

“Can you not trust that I know what I’m doing?” A grunt released from her end of the phone. “No, seriously Shar. We grew up the same, went through all the same training, what makes you know so much better than me?” Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what she meant, but you had always felt second best when it came to Sharon.

“It’s not that you don’t know what you’re doing.” She sighed heavily. “It’s that you were gone for five years and things have changed. Governments have become stricter and you don’t understand that they aren’t the same as they were.” You remained quiet, expecting her to say something else. “That’s why it’s good you have me because I know how they work.”

“You know how they work, do you?” You were fed up with her. “Then explain to me how you have access to satellites, Sharon. That’s not something that you just happen upon.” Your tone was accusatory. “Are you working for the Power Broker behind my back?” You heard a sharp intake of air on her end. “I swear to God, Sharon. We promised each other we wouldn’t work for that asswipe. He’s involved in too much bad shit. If the US government were to ever find out that we were working for the Power Broker, they wouldn’t grant us pardons, Shar. Did you fuck this up for us?”

“I didn’t fuck anything up and you need to check your tone when you’re talking to me.” Your brows shot to your hairline.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. We need to work this shit out. I didn’t fuck anything up and neither will you if you come back to Madripoor right now.” You were shocked, Sharon had never talked like this to you.

“I really don’t think I would be comfortable being somewhere that I’m clearly not welcome anymore, so I’m going to stick with what I know.” Sharon began backtracking as you resigned yourself to being on your own for the first time in forever. “Goodbye, Sharon.” You ended the call and shoved your phone into the pocket of your jeans.

You dropped your head into your hands in defeat. Being on your own was daunting and you weren’t sure how Sharon survived without you well enough to grow your business all on her own. You tried to think of your next move, deciding that sticking with Sam would be your best bet. He’s the easiest to guess where he’s going since Bucky has been mentally MIA towards you.

You recalled Sam mentioning his sister and nephews, thinking he would go there to check on them. You hauled yourself out of your slump and to Zemo’s apartment to collect your things before going. You were going all in if you were going to do this, so why the fuck not?

*************************

@londonalozzy @marvelofwitch @dramaticwittch @hellmoonsin @jn-wolf @youcancallmeishita @iabrokengirl @veroxloki @liveloudwriteloud @lainternettuale @angelofthetrenchcoats @rosiahills22 @peachymichu @sj-ficrecs @learisa @itsyagirl01 @simply-me-xoxo @ghoststudyy @taina-eny @japanrecs @sinfulhun-collapsedheart @isaordora @shutupstevie @sprsoldierfics @beachbabe925

[ventiskies]

Lone Traveler | Venti

pairing: venti x hurt! reader

summary: you often clear out hilichurl camps with amber and the knights but the one time you do it alone, something had to happen to you. fortunately, a certain (cute) bard had came to your rescue and come to send you back.

a/n: my first genshin fic!! of course it had to be venti hehe, hope you like it and massive apologies if he’s ooc/for any errors! send requests if youd like >3<

Fighting the hilichurls at night had become a hobby you recently developed after going out on random ‘clearing’ trips with the Knights of Favonius, specifically Amber, who on every occasion after the mission, treats you and Paimon to Good Hunter’s sticky honey roast.

All of you were a good team, whenever there was a bigger monster, you knew someone would always have your back, and every mission had always presented success, the worst injuries only being a few deep scratches that Barbara could heal easily.

But one day, you had decided that it was probably the perfect time to go out and venture alone. The knights were busy and feeling confident fighting by yourself, you had taken the opportunity. Paimon had stayed back, claiming that she doesn't want to go if the day wouldn't end with honey roast (not that she helps anyways), but you hadn’t minded, saying that you were just going not far out and if you don't return by morning, then she should maybe try and find you.

Though seeing as you had never done a solo venture out of Mondstadt before, it was no surprised you had gone lost in the woods as soon as you had entered the thick trees.

You had been walking for a while, and suddenly, you saw a small campfire. Assuming it was a friendly traveler such as yourself and in with your heart that had been beating with slight fear and uneasiness, you had quickly ran towards them without thinking twice hoping they would help you find your way back before the sun rose. but when you got closer, you had realized it was in fact, not a person. and when you had come to that conclusion, it had been too late as the first monster that had spotted you shot an arrow directly towards you, alarming the rest of the batch.

This was bad

You successfully were able to avoid the first arrow, but the moment got you distracted and in a blink of an eye, you found yourself being pushed and thrown by the force of a shield of a Mitachurl charging full speed at you. you feel your feet start to burn as they were dragged against the rough grass, and the painful sensation as you hit headfirst against the rubble. 

“Ouch...” you groan quietly, reaching out to rub your head, but the moment you had pulled back, the hilichurls roared, as if releasing a battle cry to alarm the others.

Fuck

Deciding to be smart, you had gotten up and ran (half limped) away, finding it difficult to outrun the group of monsters but managing to get far enough to be out of sight from them who you definitely took note to deal with in the morning,

Or make someone else deal with them, you had thought as you sat down on the stone, thankful that you were able to trudge towards the big tree just outside Mondstadt and inspected the damage it had done to you. only then had you realized that the hand you had used to cover your head was sticky and moist, and the moment you focused, you saw it was red. you were bleeding.

Just great.

You looked up at the sky, blanketing Teyvat with litters of stars that had offered a little comfort at the moment;  and released a small sigh. it was dark and you were lost, although you could just take the path back to Mondstadt, there was a high chance the monsters were waiting for you as stupid as they could be, and you really didn't think you could fight them at the moment with the gash on your leg and your bleeding head.

You shut your eyes tight, silently wishing that you hadn't decided to be so brave and venture on your own and regretting not forcing Paimon to come with you. this was it, you were over. sometimes you wished your other sibling was here for you. they’d know what to do.

But not a minute later, you feel it. a light breeze, a gust of wind passing just through you, as if gently caressing. you shivered, what was that?

It had been too brief to be a random wind passing, and when you opened your eyes, you understood why.

The moment you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring back into an unfamiliar pair of aqua orbs, wide and curious staring right into your soul, extremely close for your comfort. so naturally, as one who had just opened their eyes after trying to calm down after a fight and had assumed was alone would do, you screamed at the top of your lungs and moved back, trying to get as far as the strange person was from you.

“Woah, hey- calm down!” the person says, alarmed that you had started to run away from him. he starts to walk closer to you, and you assumed he was about to shut your mouth from how he had both hands outstretched over each other, so you only screamed harder.

“Okay, okay! I won't hurt you, see? I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently, eyes wide as if he was also afraid, trying to calm you down, and once you did, he smiles, “there we go. hey there! the name’s Venti, you okay?”

“What?” you asked in disbelief, because who was this person?! Why was he here? Were you being kidnapped? Is this a dream?

Venti frowns, “hey, don't look at me like that!” he says feigning offence, “you’re y/n, right? I saw you running away from those monsters earlier, you got beat really bad,”

“H-How did you know...?” you asked, slowly standing up, looking up at him as he had been taller than you, “and I’m a traveler and I know how to fight, I just... got surprised,” you insisted, not wanting to seem weak in front of the boy. you couldn’t see well, but you could tell he had dark blue to black hair with short twin braids (that strangely reminded you of the statue of the seven that had granted you with the power of anemo just before you had arrived in mondstadt). 

He looked so familiar, yet you were certain you had never seen him.

“Oh, I just know,” he smiles, offering you a hand, “can you stand?”

“Are... are you from Mondstadt?” you ask, hesitant to take his hand. you glance down at his vision, a proud anemo symbol displayed on it. you hear Venti chuckle.

“Yeah!” he says, “but, not always. I mean,” he pauses, “if you’ll try to find me there, you won't be able to. I’m a bard,” he adds, as if it would help you understand better, “but you can trust me, don’t worry. I know this place well,”

“I’m perfectly capable,” you shook your head at his claims, “where did you even come from?!”

“I told you! I saw you running from those hilichurls and decided to come and help,” he pouts, arm dropping to his side, “Come on, you're hurt. I know you're capable but... I’ll-I’ll just bring you back to Mondstadt so I can know you arrived safely, promise!”

“I dont know...” you look around, fiddling with your fingers in fear. it was dark, and you weren't usually afraid of it or even the least bit bothered, but with what you had endured just minutes before, you were surely not going to return alone. 

Sensing this, Venti breaks into a smile, “great! come on, now, I wouldn't let a fellow traveler go back alone! especially not the honorary knight!”

Deciding not to ask how he knew these things, you decided to take his hand and follow his lead towards Mondstadt, or at least, hope you were heading there now. you didn’t want to trust this self proclaimed ‘bard’, but the options were limited, and you really didn’t want to choose death in the obvious sense, which was in the hands of a hilichurl, probably found by Paimon a few hours later.

On your way back, you find out that Venti was definitely talkative. he had asked you a bunch of questions, and even offered to sing you some of his songs. the sun had slowly begun to rise just far into the horizon as you listened to the bard’s chatter, casually slipping in a few jokes that had the two of you laughing so hard that you had to stop for a moment at one point. and although he might be doing it out of pity for your bleeding (now dried up) head, you still felt warm whenever he talked passionately about Mondstadt and its people as if he ruled over them, albeit being quite mischievous.

You found your chemistry somewhat a match, as if… as if you had met him before.

Thankfully, there weren’t any hilichurls blocking the path on the way, so you didn’t have to deal with them anymore (or at least, for the time being. it was as if they had all left as soon as Venti arrived... or he had cleared them out the moment he saw you running away from them. either way, you were thankful the journey wasn't bothered)

“Here we are! Mondstadt! the city of freedom!” Venti smiles, his smile on par with the rising sun’s as he finally lets your hand go the moment you arrive at the bridge- that had been the moment you realized he had been holding your hand the whole time. gosh, I really trusted someone to bring me home.

“Well, I did bring you home, didn’t I?” Venti laughs, and you bite your cheek, feeling flustered that you had accidentally said your thought out loud, “I guess this is where we part!”

“Huh?” you asked, dumbfounded, “wait, where will you be going?”

Venti merely smiles, bowing dramatically for a brief moment, “around,” he states vaguely, “farewell, young one!”

“You’re saying that as if you’re not young yourself,” you mumbled, and at that, Venti bursts out laughing, causing you to look at him weirdly, “what? Isn’t that true?”

“you have no idea how many times I get that,” he wipes a tear dramatically, “well, until we meet again, traveler! be careful next time, or i might as well have to find you again,” he jokes, before waving you off, walking away from the bridge and back out the path and into the woods, where he disappears through the thick trees without turning back.

What an odd person. 

So the next day, when you had ventured further than the usual route the knights cleared out, you silently hope you’d find him again.

[nitewrighter]

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.” 

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me. 

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly.  He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree. 

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.” 

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.” 

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.” 

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...”  he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.” 

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile. 

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.” 

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.” 

[taeescript]

VI. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 2.3k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> there is a lot going on tumblr these days, and a lot of things just going on in life right now. i still hope to continue to share chapters with you although they may all be a little shorter than usual now. nontheless, i hope you enjoy (: 

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Wax – a diverse class of organic compounds which are hydrophobic, malleable solids at ambient temperatures. Typically containing melting points above at 40 C, they are obtained from multiple resources such as animals or plants. Wax can also be extracted chemically in petroleum. There are many uses for wax such as the manufacture of candles, final coatings on wood products and thickening agents amongst others. One of the most popular artistic use of waxes is the creation of statues from Madame Tussauds.

“Another what?” Jimin asks when he is dragged out of the interrogation room again by Namjoon.

“Dispatch just gave me a call. They want the homicide team on site because…well, you know the reason each and every time we’re called into site,” Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. The news had come as a shock to him as well. “You’ll have to release him, Jimin.”

Jimin shakes his head. “No, Namjoon. I was in the middle of something with him.”

“Jimin, be reasonable here! There’s another murder that’s been committed while you were here questioning him. It’s quite obvious that he couldn’t have killed this person.”

“I’m so close to cracking him!” Jimin yells in frustration. “Beside, how do you know he hadn’t gone and done this before he came in?”

Namjoon has to bite back his words.

“Fuck!” Jimin kicks the door. He doesn’t care that Jungkook could hear how angry he is on the other side. There really isn’t anything to hide between the two of them anyways.

After a minute, Jimin has calmed down. “I’ll meet you on site,” he says to Namjoon.

Namjoon doesn’t leave.

“Look, I promise, alright? I’m just going to send Jungkook off properly and then I’ll drive straight to the site. Text me the address,” Jimin says.

He only has one choice so Namjoon nods and leaves.

Once Jimin is left alone in the room, he punches the air blindly.

Jungkook sits calmly inside the room. It seems that luck is on his side. Perhaps whatever this case was would have Jimin off his back. It would be a little hard to continue any of his extracurricular activities if Jimin continuously monitors all his actions.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin opens the door and speaks without looking at Jungkook.

Jungkook raises his hand and the handcuffs that link him to the table clang as metal hits metal.

Jimin walks up to him and opens the lock. Jungkook rubs his wrists and picks up his jacket on the way out.

“I really do hope you catch the killer, Detective Park,” Jungkook gives a light pat on Jimin’s shoulder.

...

Jimin recognizes her when he brushes under the caution tape onto where the rest of his team stands in a circle. It is not so much that he recognizes her facial features, but it is the outfit she is wearing. The same black and blue leggings.

“Fuck me,” Namjoon says the instance Jimin slides up besides him, “Fucking bat shitting balls.”

Yoongi has one hand placed over his mouth and his index finger pressing against his nostrils. There is a strange smell emitting off the corpse.

“A missing body part, again?” Jimin says. He swallows the bile that threatens to rise. The forensics team does not need to tell him what part is missing this time. It is glaringly obvious to the observer.

Replacing where it usually sits on the body is the head of another species – a buck’s crown with antlers and all. The girl is still standing although it is clear that she is deceased. Her body had been manipulated such that it looked like she was mid-sprint before being shocked by her attacker. She was a live manifestation of a deer caught in headlights.

“Let’s see if we can move her; bring her back to the lab for analysis,” Namjoon barks an order at the forensics team. They nod and move towards the body. Right as they put their hands on her, a loud voice yells,

“Don’t!”

It is too late, however. The team has already lifted her an inch off the floor. At his shout, they drop her immediately and that is when she crumbles, literally, at their feet. Jimin stands as her foot rolls in front of him. He stares at the shoe and foot that has been broken off at the ankle.

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims in alarm, jumping back.

Taehyung stands with his arms at his side, defeated. “You shouldn’t have tried to move her,” he mutters.

Namjoon’s face conveys both astonishment and confusion as stalks away to find somebody who could clean the body parts and move them back to the lab.

Jimin carefully tiptoes around the fragments of her body and walks up to Taehyung. “What the hell just happened?” he demands.

Besides being the team’s blood spatter analyst, he was an expert on a multitude of other subjects. “You saw how her body was positioned, didn’t you? Usually, victims are sprawled on the ground because gravity pushes on them, and their muscles have collapsed. She was standing. Something is keeping her muscles rigid post mortem,” Taehyung explains.

“Kim!” someone calls amidst the rubble. The victim’s body had been broken at most of the joints and a gathered team was currently packing each section in a bag.

Both Taehyung and Jimin walk up to the jacketed individual who had called out. She is bent over what looks like the forearm. A brown, semi-clear substance is pooling around the limb.

“This started seeping out all of a sudden. It’s happening to a couple of the broken parts, although most of the liquid is contained in the bags that we have stored them in,” she tells the two of them.

Taehyung bends down to examine the liquid. He is wearing gloves and when he extracts his fingers from the surface of the substance, it is slightly sticky between his index finger and thumb. He wipes his hand on a piece of tissue before slipping that into the bag as well. “Take that and all the parts back to the lab. If you can get a vial of the liquid to analyze, that would be helpful as well,” Taehyung told the assistant. She nods.

As the scene is being cleared, Taehyung walks back to the patrol car with Jimin. “What are you thinking about?” Jimin inquires, seeing that the gears inside Taehyung’s head are turning.

“Tell me, what’s the temperature right now?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin checks his phone and reports, “20 C, but with sunshine it should feel like 24 C.”

Taehyung takes note. “Slightly above room temperature,” he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Slightly above room temperature,” Taehyung repeats louder. He stops walking and faces Jimin. “I’ve got a theory on what that is, but I can’t be sure yet. I’m going back to the lab and once results are out, I will call you immediately.”

Jimin nods. “I wanted to take a look around the site anyways. I’ll see you back at the station.”

Taehyung waves before leaving.

By the time Jimin returns to the crime scene, the majority of broken body parts have been cleaned. There is only a lone photographer who is packing up his camera into his bag. He greets Jimin with a slight bow on his way to leave the site.

“Any witnesses?”

Namjoon returns by his side. He shakes his head, answering Jimin’s question himself. “This is not a common runner’s route. It’s a short cut from the left side of the park to the right so not a lot of pedestrians know about it.” He sees how Jimin is still standing there with an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks Jimin directly.

Jimin taps the bridge of his nose. “I know that girl,” he says softly, “Not personally. But I bumped into her before. It was at the park near our station. I also saw – ” His sentence is suddenly cut off.

“Saw what?” Namjoon asks further.

Jimin cannot continue his sentence. He knows what Namjoon will say already. Besides, if he really wanted concrete evidence against Jungkook, he must absolutely make sure that Jungkook was there at the park when the running girl was there. “Saw a red bird. I think it’s called a cardinal,” Jimin lousily finishes his sentence.

Namjoon gives him a strange look. “I’ve never pegged you as a bird watcher,” he comments.

Jimin shrugs. “I’m heading back to the station. Taehyung also says he has something on the possible C.O.D.,” he reports to Namjoon.

“You’re leaving me again to handle the crowd? That happened last time with Sara Michel’s case,” he groans.

Jimin shrugs again as if to say, “Sorry, what can I do?” He gives a reassuring squeeze on Namjoon’s shoulder before leaving.

This time, he is going to find unshakable evidence.

...

“Welcome back,” you smile at him when he enters the door. You are sitting at the table, pencil and sketchpad in front of you.

Jungkook smiles ever so slightly back before bending down to untie his shoes. They needed to be placed in their usual spot; if they weren’t, he would feel the irritation spread throughout his body until he went back to fix it. It is better that everything is perfect the way it is the first time.

After he has made sure that his laces were also tucked into the shoe as was his preference, he walks over to you. He can’t help but muse at how exquisite you look whenever the afternoon’s sunshine would brush through your hair. You are like a marble stature carved by the Greeks and placed on display in the middle of a garden. He moves his eyes over you like a curator would when assessing a piece.

You have your back turned towards him and do not hear when he walks behind.

“What are you drawing?”

Immediately, you stand and hold your sketchpad to your chest. It shields your work from his curious eyes.

“Something!” you blurt, your face flushing.

He cannot read why you are acting so strangely so he does what he always does around you: smile.

You clear your throat and tuck your disheveled hair behind your ear. “A package came for you. I left it in your room!” you say the tumbling words. It is your lame attempt in shifting his attention away from you to something else.

Thankfully, it works as he nods. He sends you a last playful smirk before making his way towards his makeshift bedroom. It is tiny, as you had originally used it as your storage room for your art utensils, but they had recently moved a mattress into the room for him and it helped that he did not have a lot of personal items with him anyways. The said package sits just beside the doorframe to his closed room, and he wonders again of whether or not you are scared of him. You never seemed to want to enter his room and insisted on speaking to him from outside in the hallway.

The package is not heavy and rather small in his hands. He is able to pick it up with one and balances it on his left palm as he opens the door. The blue walls welcome him into his small, personal haven. Carefully, he tiptoes his way between the old canvases and dried paint palettes. He passes by the yellow smudge on the wall and then collapses on the mattress in the back of the room. His suitcase squeaks as the wheels press against the body of the case while being wedged in the small space.

Once he is comfortably sitting cross-legged on the bed, he carefully finds a cutter and slices through the masking tape that conceals the contents of the cardboard box. The movement is as smooth and practiced as slicing through butter to him – a flick of the wrist. Once the tape no longer holds, he pries the flaps open. There is another small box tied with a red ribbon. A single white card is attached to the side. This is what he first takes out.

The envelope is embossed with a strange swirling design. He breaks the seal with another slice of the cutter, sliding out the cardstock letter. It had been written in elegant matching swirling cursive with a golden fountain pen.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome to my town. A small home-warming gift.”

It has not been signed and Jungkook wonders if the writer was the one who wrote the words; each letter had been carved so delicately onto the material. He tilts his head as he thinks of who may have sent this to him. He has not told anybody that he is planning to stay in LA for the time being. He had never been one to open his circle of acquaintances and thereby it had remained small. Digging through his mind, he comes up empty-handed on any of the known possibilities.

Well, there is one person who definitely would not be the sender.

The bow becomes undone by a light tug from his fingers. It falls delicately onto his lap like a ribbon of red liquid. At that, the walls of the box fall easily to reveal its treasure, akin to the opening of an oyster.

His usual stoic expression becomes all the more frozen on his face when he sees what the gift is. Somebody has been watching him. Somebody knows about him. Somebody is out there.

For a single eyeball, pupil and iris augmented in aquamarine and azure hues, stares right back at him. The crystalline gift plucked so delicately from the girl who he had been planned as his next angel.

...

next part

[gojos-sidepiece-69]

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 3

The realization that you were completely exposed and standing between two extremely intimidating men (well, one man and one thousand-year-old curse) made you shiver. They were both tall, and had a perfect view of everything. “Didn’t even spare her underwear, huh?”

Gojo asked Sukuna as he nodded towards your scrapped uniform. “Come on, I had that one custom made! They’re expensive, you know,” he whined, before taking a couple of strides toward a pile of corny “I Heart Tokyo” sweatshirts knocked off of their rack. Gojo crouched over and chuckled as he eyed an aggressively hot pink one, flinging it towards you.

You scrambled to slip it on, grateful that it at least covered you down to your quads; you really hadn’t thought this far ahead. What the hell was going on, though? A flip switched immediately in your brain as you reverted back from primal instinct to logic, finishing your ride on the wave of pride that came with knowing Gojo got hard watching you. But was he really jealous, though? It kind of felt like he enjoyed watching me...and why didn’t Yuji switch back with Sukuna immediately after exorcising the curse? As if he read your mind, Sukuna said from behind you, “I want to offer you a deal, Satoru.”

He brushed past you and looked down at Gojo, who was still crouched down. “I’m getting bored existing within that useless boy Yuji. I don’t feel as though I’m having any...fun,” he said slowly as your sensei straightened up. “It’s getting hard to curb my cravings, and if I’m pent up in there for long enough...I might just slaughter every man, woman, and child I see the next time I take over this body.” Gojo still said nothing, folding his arms and letting Sukuna propose his deal. “If you let me have my way with this girl once a week,” he turned his head and pierced his eyes into yours, “I might not kill everyone I see.” Your eyes widened. That was definitely not what you were expecting.

You wanted to call his bluff, because you know he was too violent to ever stop killing needlessly. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Gojo asked, “How do I know you won’t just kill her yourself? You’ve always had a thing for killing ‘women and children.’” “Because,” Sukuna started, “I find using her body...more than satisfying.” You shivered at how these two were talking about you as if you weren’t there.

But you couldn’t deny that somewhere in the back of your mind, the idea of Sukuna handling your body, touching you where he wanted to, making you scream...turned you on. “Fine. If it’s for the greater good, my moral compass points to yes. I’ll just have to keep close tabs on your interactions myself to make sure you’re not injuring my favorite student. If you do, you’re done for,” Gojo stuck out his arm to seal the pact. Sukuna shook on it, and offered some parting words to you: “The Itadori boy’s room on Thursday at 11 PM. If you’re late, you’ll be punished however I see fit.”

The black tattoos plunged back within the surface of Yuji’s skin, and the young boy opened his eyes. “What just happened?” He looked around frantically, scratching his head. “Y/n, where’d your uniform go? Did I eat another finger?” But before you had a chance to breathe, Gojo steered Yuji out of the shop and promised to explain later (but before he left, your teacher snatched up two tiny Mickey Mouse keychains as “souvenir gifts” for Megumi and Nobara). The three of you left the abandoned mall and piled back into the black BMW. Gojo climbed in after lifting the black veil from the sky. It was weird to see that it was still morning, even if it was a cloudy day. “Well...you both did a pretty shit job at fighting the curse. Good call bringing out Sukuna to finish it off, though. Both of your combat skills need work, but other than that, great first mission!” your teacher gushed happily.

Great first mission? Sure, it was successful and you had exorcised a curse and retrieved the finger, but...great? You almost died and then found yourself part of a binding contract with the king of curses as his...personal toy? The world of Jujutsu was proving to be much more complicated than you could’ve imagined. How could all of this have happened within an hour...you shouldn’t have let your emotions cloud your judgement. But what’s done is done.

Your teacher once again continued his habit of jolting you out of your thoughts by slapping his hand on the radio. Baby Got Back blared though the speakers, and you groaned the second your two least-favorite ass men started screaming along. Gojo sped 20 above the speed limit all the way back to Tokyo Tech, burning rubber as he screeched to a stop outside. Him and Yuji fist-bumped each other up, and Yuji hopped out with an enthusiastic, “see-ya, Sensei! Today was awesome!” You turned to exit after him, but Gojo stopped you. “Nope, not yet,” he said. You sighed exasperatedly and dramatically slumped into the backseat. “I’m exhausted. What do you want?” “You’re not done for today. I’ve still got one more lesson to teach you today, but this time you’ll really just be observing,” he said quietly, his hand left hand gripping the wheel tightly, while his right shifted the gear to back into drive.

You secretly knew you could trust your sensei, and you were far too tired to question where he was taking you. However, you slowly grew impatient as he took a route that was all too familiar. Your suspicions were confirmed when he parked outside of an expensive-looking skyscraper. “Care to tell me what we’re doing at your place?” You sternly said to the back of his head. He didn’t turn back around when he said, “Just stop asking questions. I told you already, you’re going to observe.” He got out of the driver’s seat calmly, opening your door. You hesitantly climbed out and followed him inside, a few paces behind him. After a silent elevator ride up to the 38th floor, you entered his apartment after him.

He shut the door almost too softly, and pinned you against it before you could flinch. His tall figure leaned down against you, and his hands pressed into your sides, keeping you still against the door. You could feel his cold breath tickling your ear. “You thought you could make me jealous? Thought you’d have fun making me watch Sukuna cum all over you? And you thought you were going to get away with that,” he whispered into your ear and laughed when you recoiled.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to open your legs real wide for him, just because you wanted me to hear you moaning? You haven’t been a good girl at all. I’ll teach you what it feels like to be jealous, because it’s what you deserve.” He firmly grasped you by the arm a little too tightly, and pulled you back into his bedroom for the second time. To your surprise, there was already someone in there waiting. It was the beautiful cashier that you saw in the bakery only a few hours earlier, and she kneeled on Gojo’s bed wearing a short, black silk robe. “Y/n, this is Juni. Isn’t she a dime piece?” She was silent, but you could see what she wanted just from the gleam in her eyes.

Gojo forcefully pushed you onto a small couch directly facing the bed, and then turned to this other woman. Your sensei peeled off his navy uniform top, and your heart rate picked up at seeing his ridiculous abs and bare chest. He was definitely one of those people who looked better without clothes on, and he knew it. His slender fingers wandered over to untie her robe, and slipped it off of her carefully, hands trailing over her exposed skin. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and you could see right away that she was well-endowed.

You felt a sharp twinge in your chest when you took her in with your eyes. Her chest was much bigger than yours, and Gojo seemed to be having the time of his life pushing his face against her tits. You wondered if he thought you were lacking in that department. You were confused by the mix of emotions your brain presented you with, just as the natural arousal at seeing two attractive people touch each other came flooding in. Gojo, as if he could sense this, made blindfold-contact with you and said, “you like watching us, huh? You’re so dirty, getting wet while I touch her. Go ahead, get yourself off.” He turned back to the cashier and pushed her down onto the bed.

Your eyes stung when you realized that they were about to fuck on the same spot you and Gojo did two nights ago. You didn’t want him to touch anyone the way he touched you, but you would never let him know that. If you were just a side piece to him, then he was the same to you. So you swallowed your rage, ignored the strange pains in your chest, and continued to watch them.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Gojo groaned as he entered the other woman. Hearing him moan was one of the most delicious, lustful sounds you had ever heard. You could feel yourself getting more slick, and the urge to put your hands on your cunt and relieve yourself was slowly building up. “That’s my fucking girl. You feel so good, you’re taking me so well,” he cooed, and your heat started throbbing almost painfully. You almost felt a surge of sinful pride when you realized that he still had his blindfold on, and wasn’t about to take it off for this girl. You’d show him you weren’t jealous, and you didn’t care that he was deep inside someone else. Your confidence mounted as you removed the stupid novelty sweatshirt from over your head. You were completely nude, your juices spilling onto Gojo’s small, soft couch.

You put your left hand over your dripping cunt, while your right hand played with your own breasts. Thanks to your competitiveness, you wanted to put on as much of a show for that cocky bastard as he was for you. You caught his attention by moaning lightly. As he looked over at you, a grin stretched onto his face. He wasn’t expecting the delightful surprise of seeing you without any clothes on, pleasuring yourself to him. You licked your lips and started rubbing small circles around your wet clit with your thumb. The sight prompted him to move into Juni faster, needing to relieve his mounting arousal quicker.

“I knew you were a little whore the first time I saw you,” he turned to you. “Always making sure your skirt was short enough for me, always bending over for me during training. You acted like an innocent tease, but you’re really a dirty little slut. I bet you’d open your legs for anyone, as long as they asked you real nicely,” he growled.

His dirty talk brought you closer to your destination, but you wanted to one-up this fool and have a grand finish after he did. So you slowed your pace, panting. Your face heated up at the fact that even though he was fucking another woman, all of Gojo’s attention was on you. He continued to watch you and groan a few more times before saying, “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Waiting for me to finish? Ladies first.” You were about to respond when Juni finished right then and there. You were slightly irritated to see her cum dripping down and sliding onto Gojo’s cock.

“See? She knows how to follow directions. I guess that’s something I still have to teach you,” Gojo commented while stroking the woman’s hair. He turned back to you and frowned. “So disobedient. What’s taking you so damn long?” You wanted him to fold, so you tried to make him weaker however you could. You opened your legs wider, allowing him a nicer view.

His mouth opened slightly, and you could see him lick his lips. “Fuck,” he panted, as his thrusts grew uneven. He pulled out and threw his head back as he moaned and painted the woman’s torso with his cum. After he caught his breath, he pulled his pants up and climbed to sit directly across from you, his legs reaching the floor. He leaned back and crossed his arms, long legs still spread. His coy grin grew as he realized the effect he had on you. Your legs started shaking when you realized he was watching you closely, and you started rubbing your clit faster. You helplessly bucked your hips against his spoiled couch in order to gain any friction you could. “Seems like you’re still waiting for my instructions? How pathetic. Just cum already,” Gojo said.

You wailed loudly as you finally released, creaming yourself all over his couch. He laughed at you as he stood up. “Look, Juni, she couldn’t help but make a mess out of herself.” The woman laughed tiredly and put on her robe once again. “Well, I’m taking a shower. Care to join me, Gojo?” She said sweetly to her lover.

“I’ll be there in a second,” he called, as she departed to the bathroom. You pulled back on your dumb sweatshirt and stood up. “Did you have fun? I hope so, because I didn’t learn a single thing about jealousy,” you said as you walked towards the door. He sucked in air between his teeth as he watched you leave. He didn’t know how you did it, how you hadn’t cracked yet. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his mind off of you, and he needed his hands on you...soon.

🌹