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tamagochiie · 4 years ago

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when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any.

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff,

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen.

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though.

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you.

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you.

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you.

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed.

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly.

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break.

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set.

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob.

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you.

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...”

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble.

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent.

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway.

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign.

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look.

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof.

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side.

You had sworn everyone had gone home.

Not everyone, you supposed.

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there.

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall.

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support.

He did a handstand.

What?

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in.

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment.

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest.

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.”

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened.

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you.

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt.

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders.

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes.

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.”

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke.

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on.

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.”

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.”

He chuckled. It sounded sweet.

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?”

You drew out a smoke.

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.”

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?”

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face.

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.”

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.”

“Your try was shit.”

“What about if you tried a different approach?”

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?”

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.”

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it.

But why would you be upset about that?

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.”

“You heard?”

He nodded.

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!”

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.”

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?”

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?”

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.”

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out.

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at. It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed.

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.”

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living?

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate.

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate.

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.”

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out.

“Why should I wait when I can do it right now?”

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.”

You grunted.

“I already told you --”

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?”

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.”

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.”

“Mr. Smith --”

“Call me Erwin.”

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to.

“Why would you wanna be my friend?”

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?”

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird.

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.”

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?”

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know?

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace.

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you.

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face.

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down.

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled.

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.”

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!”

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, but what if you had?”

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it.

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.”

It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional.

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left.

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food.

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee.

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too.

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you.

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,”

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate.

“Thank you for being mine.”

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brywrites · 4 years ago

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Date Night I

I got so many requests in my inbox for a version of “Date Night” set in The Keeping of Words universe. There were so many suggestions for how that could look, but I’m really happy with this version, so I hope those of you who like TKOW enjoy it! Part 2 coming very soon!

Summary: Three years after leaving the BAU, Dr. Spencer Reid has given up chasing monsters to be a part-time professor and a full-time dad. It’s all domestic bliss - until Cat Adams turns up at the BAU.

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, references to past kidnapping and assault

.......................................

“Now, it’s rare for serial killers to go that long between murders, but years passed between the BTK attacks. How did Rader manage to go that long between murders?”

Reid’s students stared at him expectantly, a few flipping back through their notes. A girl in Georgetown hoodie raised her hand. “Well it seems like he stayed connected to what he did in like, other ways? He wrote up detailed plans for each attack so maybe he focused on that.”

“Yeah,” added a boy with round glasses and a sticker-covered laptop. “And he wrote to the police a lot with information and puzzles, so that could have given him the feeling of power he needed.”

“Good, good,” Reid said. “Those are both great points. Rader did all of that and more. The stalking, the planning, the communication with the media is all part of what we c-” His train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He gave it the briefest of glances – just Emily, likely asking for an obscure fact he could provide after the lecture – before pocketing it once more and continuing. “Sorry. Uh, so all of his behavior is what we call sublimating. Psychologically speaking, it’s the process of diverting one’s impulses or desires into a more socially acceptable activity. Forensically, it’s how unsubs curb their urges during a cooling-off period. In this case we see that…” His phone began to ring again. The name on the screen was the same.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. He made it a point not to use his phone in front of his students and to give them the same respect he asked of them while in his class. He quickly sent Prentiss a text. In lecture – call in 30? “As I was saying, in this case it’s clear that–” Before he could even return the phone to his pocket it rang again.

A sudden chill came over him. This wasn’t just about a consult. “I – uh, sorry,” he stammered. His students glanced between themselves. It wasn’t like their hyper-focused, luddite professor to take a call in the middle of lecture. Reid turned away from them as he raised the phone to his ear. “What is it?” he asked.

“Reid, I’m so sorry. We need you to come in immediately. Luke’s out front to bring you to Quantico. We have a kidnapping case and there’s one demand – that we release Cat Adams within 24 hours.” The name made every muscle in his body tense. An automatic trauma response.

“No.” The sound of her name alone sent flashbacks flickering through this memory. Glimpses of Mexico, the inside of a prison cell, his mother screaming, Bianca crying on the witness stand in a courtroom. There was no way he was letting that woman any chance to get near him or his family ever again.

“She insists she’ll only speak if she can talk to you.” This exactly why he’d left the Bureau in the first place.

“Emily, I’m retired, I’m not an agent anymore and–”

“And there are lives on the line, Spencer. I wouldn’t ask if we had any other choice.” And so he ended class early, hurried out of the lecture hall, and climbed into the waiting SUV. Luke tried to catch him up – that morning Garcia had received a video from a woman with dark hair, showing two huddled, hooded figures tied up on the floor of a warehouse. A woman and a small child. They seemed to be crying and while Garcia couldn’t make out their identity, the woman filming wasn’t trying to hide her face at all. The demand attached said they would be killed if Catherine Adams wasn’t released from prison, and Cat only wanted to talk to him. The only man she’d ever lost to.

“This doesn’t follow her typical M.O.,” Reid said. “She usually goes after men, fathers specifically. Why go after what’s likely a mother and child?” Cat was a creature of habit. Her impulsive nature was her downfall. This didn’t seem like her at all.

Luke shrugged. “You know her better than I do. I’ll have Garcia show you the footage when we get there, maybe you’ll see something we didn’t.” But as soon they arrived at the BAU, Emily ushered him off to an interrogation room. There she sat in an orange jumpsuit, staring at the one-way glass, waiting for him with a Cheshire cat grin. It made his blood boil. Reid inhaled deeply before stepping inside. He stood there staring at her in silence. He didn’t trust himself not to scream.

Cat laughed. “Classic negotiating technique. First one to speak loses, right?” The sound of her voice took him right back to that awful night – leaving Milburn, nearly losing his mother, Bianca crying in the roundtable room. Scratch and the crash and Stephen’s death and everything that had come after.

He wasn’t in the mood for her games. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should have been finishing his class and going home to pick Eliza up from pre-school. “You arranged the kidnapping of two people and you did it the same way you did it before,” he sighed. Cat immediately launched into her usual banter. She had given up fighting her case, she insisted. Now she just wanted to stave off the boredom by playing with her favorite toy. The only thing she hadn’t done, she claimed, was him.

“You sexually violated me in Mexico,” he reminded her.

“I did? Are you sure?” she asked. He gritted his teeth. “Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie, it’s not a good look.”

The room was too small, too warm. He couldn’t bear to be in here with her but he had to be. “I want to go a date,” she declared. “With you.”

“A date?” This was absurd. This was ridiculous. This couldn’t be happening.

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun. And I won’t even get physical, ok?” Cat rolled her eyes. “Unless you want me to.”

There was no way he was going to take Cat Adams on a date. There were only two people he’d ever been on a date with in his life (the ill-fated Redskins game and the Lila Archer incident didn’t count, he’d decided), and he had no desire to add a third to that list. Going out on a date was what he did with Bianca, because he loved her. He took her to bookstores and symphonies and New York City. He bought her flowers and watched her favorite movies and made a list of all her favorite restaurants. That was something special. Something sacred.

“The only date I’ll be there for,” he whispered to Cat, “is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

“You’re gonna let a mother and daughter die?” Cat asked. So whoever was in that video Luke mentioned, it was a mother and her child.

“I never said a mother and daughter. You’re already slipping. We’ll find them, we always do.” The team would find them and he could go home and be with the only two people he wanted to sit across a table from.

“Not tonight,” Cat laughed. “Tonight, I win.”

This was a waste of his time. “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it’ll be a clean sweep.” He turned to glare at her. “Enjoy eternal nothingness. It’s a metaphor for your life.” It was petty, he knew that, but he couldn’t resist letting the bitterness he felt rising in his throat out in some small way.

Cat snorted. “You don’t even realize you’re already losing.” Before he could ask her what she meant, the interrogation room door opened. Prentiss stood there staring at Cat with an expression of utter horror. That Cheshire cat smirk returned. Reid’s glanced between the two women whose gaze held an unspoken secret he couldn’t make sense of.

“What is it, Emily?” he asked.

“Outside,” the unit chief said.

“I did something bad, Spencie,” Cat sing-songed. His stomach dropped. He was missing something. Cat knew it. Emily knew it. And whatever it was, it was big. Emily grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room. Cat’s laughter echoed. The blood rushed in his ears. Something was wrong.

“Spencer,” Emily began. She shut the door behind her and placed herself in front of it, blocking his way. “The unsub sent another video to Garcia. The woman removed the hoods from their faces and we’ve been able to identify the two victims in the video.” Two people. A mother and daughter. A mother and daughter. I did something bad, Spencie. You don’t even realize you’re already losing. No. No, he couldn’t go there.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. She turned over a tablet. The video showed a dusty warehouse with big windows. And even if the two people had been wearing hoods, he would’ve recognized them immediately. If Luke had been able to show him the video in the car, if they’d taken him to the roundtable room first, he would’ve known. That was her favorite cardigan and the dress he’d zipped up for her in their bedroom. And those were the tiny shoes he’d carefully tied while she sat patiently in the carseat. And now, those were the faces of the two people he loved more than anything in this life, staring back at him.

“No.” His voice cracked.

“We don’t know how she got to them, but I promise you we won’t rest until Bianca and Eliza are safe.”

“No.” In her wisdom Prentiss had blocked him from running back into that room and doing something he might regret later. Reid bit down, forcing back every curse he wanted to shout. He turned and stormed down the hall, pushing his way through the glass doors until he came upon Morgan’s empty office. He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. It was too hot, his clothes were too tight, everything was too overwhelming and he couldn’t think straight. Fingers fumbled with the knot of his tie, only able to loosen it enough to yank it over his head. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and shook out his arms. Stimming always helped to center him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his stomach. Breathed in and out. In and out.

She had them. Cat had them.

Reid screamed, a guttural sound that came from his throat of its own accord. He spun around and set eyes on a desk piled high with books and papers and he pushed them all off to the floor. A lamp went with them, which crashed into a water cooler that tumbled over on its side. It wasn’t enough. He screamed again, flipping a table in the center of the room and throwing a book at the wall. “FUCK!” he shouted. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

It was like his body didn’t know how to handle the rage. He fell to his knees and curled into himself on the floor, sobbing. This was his fault, all his fault. His only job was to keep them safe, and they were in danger now because of him.

....

Their captor lowered the video camera, smirking. “I think that’ll be a nice video to send your husband, won’t it?” Bianca grit her teeth, inhaling through her nose and willing herself to keep it together. She had to stay calm, for Eliza’s sake. Her ribs and shoulder ached, the blows the woman had landed to her jaw stung sharply. She thought distantly of the night she’d punched Spencer on accident on their anniversary, thinking him an intruder. There would be a trail of bruises left behind for days at least.

“Mama are you okay?” Eliza asked.

Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present. Bianca nodded carefully, the movement painful. She needed to keep Elizabeth calm and keep them both alive. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He’ll be here soon, okay? He’s gonna come find us and then we’ll go home.” He would find them. He always would. No matter how far apart they were or how lost they felt, they always found each other. They saved each other, that was what they did. He made sure she ate and protected her from her family and came to find her in the woods. She helped him through grief and stayed with him through withdrawal and guarded his heart from the monsters. He would find her.

The dark-haired woman squatted down on the ground beside them. “It’s cute,” she laughed, a sharp and cold sound. “That you have so much faith in a man. Men are nothing but disappointing.”

Bianca had been let down by men in her life plenty of times. Her father, who she was never good enough for. Her brother, who held the knife against her throat. They were the reason she jumped when doors slammed and flinched when someone yelled and ran far away from her problems. But Hotch and Rossi had welcomed her like a daughter, Morgan had loved her with the playful protectiveness of an older brother, Lorenzo had been a friend when she needed one, and Spencer �� Spencer was the opposite of everyone who had ever hurt her.

“What do you want from him?” Bianca asked. “Did he arrest you? Put away someone you love?” The woman – the unsub, Bianca was beginning to think of her as – just glared back. “If this is a trap, he’s not going to walk into it,” she said. “He’s too smart for that. No matter what you have planned, he’ll outsmart you. He always does.”

Her husband, the genius. He’d win. He find them.

“I don’t think he’ll outsmart us,” the unsub said. So there were two of them.

“Really? Because if he finds us, you’ll be outnumbered. Is your partner smart? Or just too cowardly to take him on?” Despite her fear she tried to maintain her best lawyer voice, imagining she was cross-examining a difficult witness on the stand rather than a kidnapper with a gun.

“Cat’s not a coward,” the woman snapped. She froze, realizing her slip.

“Cat? You’re working for Cat Adams?” She should’ve known. Who else hated Spencer more than her? The woman who’d nearly taken his wedding ring, his mother, his life. Cat was the reason he’d been gone during her pregnancy, the reason he’d been traumatized in Milburn, and drugged against his will. And Cat was the reason that her little girl was tied up in this warehouse. Feeling fury burn in her chest, Bianca forced herself to smile through the pain. “Then you’re definitely going to lose. Cat never wins. You’ll see.”

There was a smack, and Bianca could feel the slap across her face before she processed it. She winced, biting her lip to hold back a groan. “Shut up!” the unsub shouted. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned and stalked off, slamming the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. Bianca could hear her speaking to someone on the phone.

She leaned down close to Eliza. “Eliza Lou, listen close to me, okay?”

“Okay, mama.”

“Remember how I told you we’re playing a game?” She’d begun this elaborate lie when the unsub grabbed them from the preschool parking lot at gunpoint. It was all a game, and they had to follow all the rules to win. “Well this part of the game is a race. We’re racing to get home. I’m gonna try to untie you, alright? And if I do that, I need you to stay really still and pretend you’re still tied up. But if that woman leaves again, or she’s not paying attention and you can get up without her noticing, I need you to run okay? You get up and you run as fast as you can. You run and run and run until you get outside. And when you do, you go to the first grown up you see, and you tell them my name is Eliza and I’m lost. My dad is Doctor Spencer Reid with the FBI and I need to call him. Do you remember daddy’s phone number?”

Elizabeth recited it perfectly. “Good girl,” Bianca said. “Exactly right. You get them to call daddy, and he’ll come and find you. Okay?”

“What about you, mama?”

“That’s the fun part. We’ll be racing each other home. You and daddy are gonna race me and we’ll see who wins. That’s why you have to be super super fast, okay?”

“Okay!” Eliza smiled up at her, and her heart twisted. She was so young. If they were lucky, she would really think it was all a game – and then she’d forget any of this ever happened. And if they were really lucky, she’d get to see that.

Please, she thought. Please find us, Spencer.

...

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the door opened and Tara appeared. She sat down next to him, knowing better than to touch him. “I know this is hard,” she said. “But they need you right now.”

The people he loved harder than he’d ever imagined he could love were in danger. And it was all his fault. Cat did this because he loved them. She was hurting them because he loved them. And unless he played her game, it wasn’t going to stop.

“I. Can’t. Lose them.”

“And you’re not going to,” she said. “We won’t let that happen. We all love them, too, Reid. But we can find them a lot faster if you’re helping us. Okay?”

He tried to focus on the sound of Tara’s voice. Tara, who Bianca had taken a liking to immediately, who had gone with the two of them and Penelope to a Doctor Who convention, who had never been one to throw the word love around lightly. “Okay.” He forced himself to stand and follow her to the roundtable room. “Catch me up,” he insisted.

“I just finished talking with Cat,” Emily said. “She wants to go ice skating so she can, and I quote, skate circles around you. When I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she instructed me to tell Garcia to check her email.”

“Which I am doing now…” Garcia said, typing furiously. “Okay, this just came in.” A video popped up on the screen. A dark haired woman was in the center of the image. “Juliette Weaver, she’s Cat’s old cellmate and she just made parole,” she explained. Even before the video started, Bianca and Elizabeth’s faces were visible. Garcia glanced it him, her kind face pained. “Reid, I’m sorry.” She pressed play.

“Here we go,” Juliette said.

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a game. Everything’s okay.” Bianca was trying so hard to keep her voice even.

“It’s not a good idea for parents to lie to their children.” Juliette walked over to Bianca, whose hands and feet were bound. The woman aimed a swift kick to her ribs. Bianca’s yelp physically hurt him to hear.

“Eliza, close your eyes. Close your eyes, sweetie!” The little girl did as she was told just in time to avoid seeing her mother take a punch that knocked her over. They all heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh several times, and Bianca’s muffled cries. And then there was a gun in Juliette’s hand.

“No, no, no,” whispered Garcia, turning away from the screen.

“Don’t do this,” Bianca said.

But the gun went off anyways.

“NO!” he screamed. Reid felt his knees give way at the sound of the gun and Bianca’s screams as every face in the room froze in horror.

But then Bianca kept screaming. And then the scream turned to a gasp.

“Mama!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, everything’s okay.” The video abruptly cut off.

“Blanks,” Luke said, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “She fired blanks.” He could feel the air returns to his lungs. Bianca was still alive – for now. But that video was a clear warning. If he wanted to keep them both alive, he had to do what Cat wanted.

“You realize what we have to do, don’t you?” Rossi asked. Reid looked away, the fury building inside of him once more.“It’s the only way to get her to slip up. We have to give her what she wants.”

“Me,” Reid said.

#criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #the keeping of words #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #tkow

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bratkook · 5 years ago

Text

clairvoyant. (m) part seven.

masterlist.

pairing: taehyung x reader (briefly) jungkook x reader

word count: 15k+ damn my bad

warnings: nsfw, spanking, dirty talk, unprotected sex (dont do this) but otherwise pretty tame at the end

authors note: i know i said this would go up monday but im clearly a liar i stayed up late last night writing this and it’s partially edited so if something looks fucked up dont come for me :( ill edit it later i just wanted to get it up lmfao im thinking another chapter left, maybe 2 anyways lmk what u think

Its Monday afternoon and you’re sat at your desk at work, your fingers mindlessly tapping on your mousepad as you retouch a portrait on your desktop. To be honest, you weren’t really paying it any attention, your mind kept drifting over to the text Jungkook had sent you the other night while he was drunk. Sure he had asked you to help him get his dick wet and a part of you knows he meant help as in_ help me find someone new_ but the perverted side of you hoped he meant help as in let me fuck you.

“Okay, unless you’re trying to make her skin look like plastic you need to ease off.”

Your hands jump at Yoongi’s voice and you realize the monstrosity you created on the models face, wincing as you delete the layer entirely to start over.

“Oops, thanks.” Yoongi just laughs, resting his arm on your shoulder and slouching over your seated frame as you resume editing with a slightly clearer head.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He had been watching you during your entire shift together, today was an easier day, only slight organizing and retouching being the things on the to-do list but you had been very spacey. You were misnaming files and not being able to find them on the desktop, forgetting basic commands on photoshop that were second nature to you and you had mistakenly put coffee grounds instead of instant coffee in Yoongis morning cup and hadn’t realized.

Your hand came up to scratch your temple as you thought back to yesterday, waking up at three in the afternoon hungover as fuck in Jimin’s bedroom. Both of you had managed to go to sleep in the same exact clothes you went out in and your body was stiff which lead you to believe whatever sleeping position you chose had been very unfortunate.

Both of your phones had died in the middle of the night since the pair of you had been way to drunk to even think of plugging them in and when Jimin finally waltzed in from the bathroom, his hair damp from the shower, he suggested going out to eat so you let your phone remain dead in your pocket as you went about your day. You were blissfully unaware of Jungkook’s text sitting pretty in your inbox.

In turn Jungkook was sat in his own bed, a massive headache pounding so hard he swore his eyes were vibrating from the force. He remembered the text, hell he remembered jacking off in the shower before sending said text. So when he was finally able to sit up without wanting to vomit he was expecting his phone to have a notification from you, your typical response backed with a handful of suggestive emojis because you knew it made him blush.

But when there was nothing he felt his eyebrows furrow together, his finger locking his phone and tossing it beside him in bed as he lay back down. Had he crossed a line? His message was tame enough to leave it open to interpretation but Jungkook knew how he meant it when he sent it, he may have been high off his orgasm but he knew.

He continued to lay in bed for the majority of the day, only leaving to go to the cafeteria with Taehyung once he finally awoke, equally as hungover. He ate as much as he could stomach, not accustomed to hangovers that left his stomach feeling queasy. Unlike you who was currently stuffing as many breadsticks in your mouth as you could in the restaurant you and Jimin occupied, only leaving once your stomach was at capacity. You didn’t get a chance to see Jungkook’s text until eight o’clock that night and when you did see it your mind first went to sex. Jungkook was asking you for sex.

Sort of.

Slapping perverted thoughts from your head you responded with a simple of course i’ll help you. Leaving it at that, you knew he had sent you the first text while wasted so you were giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Those cursed perverted thoughts haunted your dreams though, images of you riding a shy Jungkook on your bed until he came noisily playing over and over and over you were surprised you hadn’t woken up with your underwear covered in remnants of an orgasm.

You hadn’t slept well at all.

You tell Yoongi this with a tight lipped smile and he nods sympathetically, “What are you doing after this?”

Looking at the clock you see there is twenty minutes left before the end of your shift, Taehyung had already messaged you earlier in the day asking to hang out and whether that meant actually hanging out or hanging out you weren’t sure but either way was fine with you. You needed a distraction to help you stop seeing the image of Jungkook cumming replaying in your mind.

“I’m seeing Tae.”

You don’t look up to see Yoongi’s reaction, not wanting to see any facial expression of judgment when you mention Taehyung’s name. Thankfully he only hums in response, watching you save your current file and start to shut down the computer and going to his own workstation to start doing the same.

When the time comes to leave you say your goodbyes, Yoongi getting into an uber to head to Jimin’s, telling you if you wanted to join them after you were done with Taehyung you were more than welcome. You hug him and tell him you’ll think about it before hopping onto the bus and heading back to campus.

The weather was getting colder in the day, its nearing the end of the first week of October and the fallen leaves decorating the sidewalks made that obvious. Once you hop off on campus you take note of the flyers plastered on bulletin boards, big posters taped on the sides of the buildings to announce the various Halloween themed events going on and you grin at all the activities that you love. This was always your favorite time of year.

As you trek your way into the boys dorm you greet Baekhyun at the front desk before entering the elevator with your phone in your hand. Your eyes are downcast as you scroll through your campus portal, skimming through the various assignments you had due this month and starting to feel the small tingles of stress creep up on you.

The elevator dings and you step out, your fingers tapping on an assignment due later tonight. Your eyes are glued to your device so you don’t notice Jungkook stood a few feet away, frozen in spot as he sees you. It’s not until you’re about to run into him that his shadow snaps you out of your daze, your eyes flicking up, “Oh, Jungkook!” You throw him a charming smile as you wrap your arms around him in greeting.

Jungkook relaxes when he feels your embrace, the nerves he’s felt since sending you that text vanish, his own arms wrapping around your body with a gentle squeeze. “Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

In retrospect he knows what you’re doing here but he needs to hear you say it. He needs to remind himself that you’re not here to see him to fulfill any sick desires he has.

You pull back still smiling, slipping your phone into your back pocket to give him your full attention. “Taehyung text me wanting to hang out so,” you spread your arms out widely, “here I am.”

He can only grin at that, of course you weren’t here to see him. You were here to see Taehyung. The man you fucked. Constantly. Not him.

You take note of his appearance, a giant black hoodie swallowing his frame and his school bag draped over his shoulder, “Are you heading out somewhere?” You speak again when he says nothing in response.

“Yeah, just to a study group at the library.” His eyes give you another once over, he wants to keep talking to you but it’s clear you have other things to get to, “I don’t want you to keep Tae waiting so I’ll be off.” He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie with a small smile and steps around you awkwardly.

You can only mutter out a small okay because he’s acting a little strange but thats typically how Jungkook acts. He’s relatively shy, only speaking when spoken to and whenever he has bouts of confidence where he jokes and laughs and says things you’d never imagine him saying it only lasts for a moment before he’s back to shy Jungkook.

You wave at him and continue walking down the hallway to Taehyung’s room. Jungkook manages to take two steps towards the elevator before stopping and turning back around, “Y/N!” He shouts, flinching a little at his own voice and cringing when he sees you jump for a second, turning around with a curious face. “Do you think we could hang out soon? Like…” he rummages in his brain as he thinks of something else to say, “maybe after all our classes tomorrow?”

You think for a moment, you have a few classes after the creative writing class you share with him and another work shift right after so that won’t work. “I can’t tomorrow but after classes on Friday I’m free.” Jungkook doesn’t even think about his schedule, shouting out that Friday works for him as well and now your beaming smile is back and Jungkook can feel his stupid heart skip a beat at the sight.

Now he can finally leave in peace, a small pep in his step as he enters the elevator but that doesn’t stop him from aggressively jabbing his finger against the close door button so he doesn’t have to see you walk into Tae’s room.

Luckily the week passes by quickly, Jungkook had nerves bubbling up in his stomach the entire time. It wasn’t like he had never hung out with you one on one, you guys usually hung out during the free period you had after your shared class but it was something that was sort of routine. This time he had explicitly asked to hang out, he wasn’t sure why that felt so different but it did so as his professor recites his final sentences Jungkook is totally zoned out, only coming back when he hears he’s dismissed. And then hes shooting up out of his seat, throwing his backpack over his shoulders and speed walking out of the building and onto the quad.

He passes the stupid cafe and ducks his head, walking even faster to avoid the possibility of Jisoo spotting him through the giant windows. When he feels he can no longer be spotted he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing and his pace slowing down. That gross feeling he had in his chest after Jisoo had slammed the door in his face hadn’t gone away, he still felt like he had done something horrible even though he knows he hadn’t but the small glares Jisoo would send him whenever she would spot him on campus just made that feeling linger.

He was counting down the days she would graduate, or at least until she’d set her eyes on someone else because he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. She hadn’t resorted to shouting things at him or anything too out of pocket but it was clear to Jungkook that she was telling her circle of friends that he had done something despicable and they were telling their friends. The whispers and small huddling that would happen when he would pass them on campus or in the rare occurrence that they shared a class made that obvious. He hated it.

Once he finally makes it into the girl’s dorm Joy greets him with a smile and he tries his best to return it. Letting her simple question erase the worries in his mind, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

He grabs his id back from her and looks up with a nod, that was actually what he was going to suggest the two of you do. He had seen the abundance of posters around campus advertising the event and it sounded like fun. “Yeah actually, I’ve never been.”

Joy smiles with a clap of her hands, knowing it’s his first year at this school, “It’s a good time, lots of snacks and someone always finds a way to sneak booze in. You guys will like it.” She refers to you when she says that, already knowing thats who Jungkook was here to see. Jungkook can feel someone behind him so he shuffles away to let the person sign in, waving at Joy as he makes his way up to your room.

The hallways of your floor are covered in fake spiderwebs, skeletons draped over some girl’s doors while others had plastered colored paper and drawn up their own version of spooky designs that reminded him of his years in elementary school. It was cute and honestly the boy’s dorms could take some notes because the only decoration they currently had was a skeleton sitting on one of the toilets in the bathroom.

As he stands in front of your door he takes note of the white board you and Wendy have hung up and he laughs softly when he sees whats written on it. In red marker it says *dracula voice* we want to suck your blood with some poorly drawn fangs underneath it and in the corner beside it the word dick is written with an obnoxious arrow coming up to point at the word blood to replace it.

His knuckles knock on your room door, hearing shuffling from behind it and some laughter before it’s thrown open and you’re greeting him with a smile, “Hey Jungkook.” Your lips shimmer back thanks to the clear lipgloss you’re currently wearing and his eyes zero in on them.

“Hey.” He mumbles out and you catch his eyes giving you a once over, finally making eye contact when you step to the side to let him in. He steps into the room and notices that you and your roommate must really love this holiday because you both have decked it out in halloween decorations. There’s a giant spiderweb rug in the center of the floor between your beds and a string of bat fairy lights hung behind your beds where you pinned more polaroids onto it. Theres a soft orange glow that fills the room and he notices you two have even gone as far as sticking led tape to the ceiling for the ambiance.

“Love the commitment.”

You chuckle, pointing over to your roommate with a smile, “She’s a slut for halloween and so am I so we had to. It’s not fully finished yet, we gotta grab some more stuff don’t we?”

When he looks over at Wendy’s side he spots her sat on her bed as she ties her shoes, “You bet your ass we do, I’m thinking we need different curtains or maybe a full on skeleton like Yeri has hung on her door.”

Jungkook can’t imagine how much more effort you two could put into your room but the determination set on Wendy’s face shows that she’s not joking. “Alright I’m off to go be a slave to the systems of education, pray I make it through this four hour lecture.” You laugh and clasp your hands in faux prayer, laughing harder when she rolls her eyes at you with a smile, telling you and Jungkook goodbye and dragging her feet like a child as she leaves.

“What did you wanna do today?” You ask him as you go back to your mirror to finish fixing your hair up. Jungkook sets his bag on the floor beside your bed, rolling his shoulders as he sits on it and shuffles backwards until he feels the cool of the wall against his back.

“There’s that rooftop bonfire happening later on, I was thinking maybe we could go to that?”

Your face perks up when he mentions that, immediately saying it was a good idea. That yearly bonfire was always the best, last year they had managed to bring up a giant blow up projector and played some classic halloween movies while everyone sat around the bonfire and made s’mores. Jin had snuck in a few flasks full of vodka so you and your group had been nice and drunk, bundled up in blankets while Hocus Pocus played.

“That actually sounds perfect, did you wanna head down to the store to grab some stuff?” Your attention was back on the mirror, your fingers coming to wipe at the corners of your mouth to fix any smudges of your gloss so Jungkook felt like he could stare at you and not get caught. You had your hair in messy waves, one side tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward and the cropped grey crewneck you had on wasn’t going to do much to protect you from the cold but it was obvious the outfit was for purely aesthetic purposes.

“Sure, lets go.”

The both of you head back out onto campus, two reusable bags in your hand to help you carry whatever you decide to buy. The bonfire usually had enough snacks for everyone but it was always good to go out and buy stuff you knew you liked as a safety net. The walk was nice, the sun had finally set, the last remaining hues of purple peeking away behind the buildings, allowing the floor lights to illuminate the path you were walking on.

Jungkook seemed to be out of his usual shy shell, his hands flailing around as he talked to you about the project he was working on in his intro to ceramics class. He swore he had no talent in it and was only taking it since he needed the units the class came with but you found it hard to believe since the photos he would post online said otherwise.

“You’re so full of shit.”

His mouth dropped open, his arms freezing in the position they were currently in as he tried to show you the motions of making a mug, “I swear. I’m gonna make you a mug and it’s gonna be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen and you’re gonna have to love it because you doubted me.”

That just makes you laugh and he smiles down at you, “I’d love that, make it extra big too. Big enough so I can pour two cups of coffee in it and I’ll treasure it forever, no matter how ugly it is.”

He nods in thought, his lips pursed together because he was definitely gonna do that now. He really wasn’t the worst at ceramics but now he was determined to make you a half decent mug to drink your morning coffee. “Deal, give me a week.” He pulled the door open for the store and let you slip in first, the bells dinging up ahead to notify the worker of your presence.

You went for the chips, stuffing two bags of spicy tteokbokki chips into your bag as your first choice. Jungkook roams over to the sweets, grabbing a few of the chocopie for himself, calling your name out as he holds one up and when you nod he grabs a few more for you as well. It takes you both a few minutes to raid the shelves, huddling in a corner with the bag pulled apart to inspect the damage, “Is this enough?”

Jungkook hums as his eyes scan the contents, spicy chips, seaweed crisps, chocopies, some sausages, two small containers of banana milk for himself and a few cans of sparkling soju crammed at the bottom for you two to conceal. This seemed like enough, and you kept saying there would be more options once you got there so he didn’t think you should load up on too much. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

Satisfied, you pay for your goods and make your way back to your building where the event would take place. You hop into the elevator and click the very top floor, he could see your big smile in the reflection, your feet tapping excitedly and he feels a smile spreading on his own face, happy that he chose an activity that made you this giddy.

When the doors open to the roof you step out onto the hallway and walk up three steps through the doors that lead to roof access. Jungkook had no idea either of the dorm buildings even had roof access so he’s amazed at that fact alone. The entire perimeter is blocked up by a cement border to prevent anyone from falling off, a plethora of plants covering it up to make it look more pleasing to the eye. Right in the middle of it all was the bonfire, thin and long and already lit up with people sat on the surrounding couch.

Besides that were a handful of bean bags and comfy chairs in case there wasn’t enough seating on the couch and if that wasn’t enough either there was a giant space open up in front of the blow up projector for anyone to lay a comfy blanket down to chill.

The snack and beverage table was placed to the left which was where you were currently dragging Jungkook to. You pulled out a few of the treats you had bought to leave them for anyone to enjoy and Jungkook couldn’t resist grabbing a piece of chocolate that was meant for the s’mores, letting the candy melt in his mouth as his eyes roamed the place some more.

“Hey, isn’t that Jimin?” He spoke slowly, not wanting the melted candy to drool out of his mouth. You were munching on a cinnamon cracker, your head turning to where he was pointing and low and behold it was Jimin. He was currently sat on the grey couch in front of the fire right next to a girl you recognized as Chaeyoung, she was holding a marshmallow on top of the fire, laughing as Jimin surely teased her for burning it.

“Yeah it is.” You smiled to yourself, seeing your best friend behaving uncharacteristically flirty, accepting a bite of the slightly burnt marshmallow smushed between the chocolate and crackers in Chaeyoung’s hands, licking his lips and plucking the snack out of her grasp to feed her the rest of it.

Jungkook walked towards them, seeing a few empty spots to their left on the smaller couch by the fire, he noticed the metal basket by the couch containing blankets so he snagged one out before he took a seat, handing it to you when you sat beside him.

“Y/N, Jungkook!” Jimin notices you two the second you sit down, popping the tip of his finger into his mouth to lick away the sticky residue from it.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here.” You tease him, setting your bag in front of you and Jungkook and draping the blanket over the both of your laps for some added warmth.

“I wasn’t going to but this one,” he drapes his arm over Chaeyoung and she blushes at his display of affection, covering up a side of her face, “convinced me to come. Something about them playing The Lost Boys.”

She looked up at him and smiled, “It’s my all time favorite movie, I can’t believe you’ve never seen it.” Jimin just shrugs, a teasing smirk on his face and you wanna scream at how cute hes acting but you really don’t want to embarrass him. Park Jimim was not one for dates or romantics so seeing him on what could arguably be described as a date blind sided you.

“Oh, I’m Chaeyoung by the way.” She leans out of his embrace and reaches over with an extended hand. You lean over Jungkook to reach it, a giggly handshake being exchanged between you two, “Y/N. You’re a third year right? Political science major?”

“Yes, I am! I saw your photography exhibit by the way, super amazing.” Your hands come up to cup your cheeks at her compliment, suddenly feeling like you two are drunk strangers at a bar ready to spit compliment after compliment at each other.

“And you’re Jungkook right?” She speaks again, sitting back in her seat as she stares at him with an unreadable expression and you can feel Jungkook tense up slightly at being recognized because how the fuck would a third year know who he was. He wasn’t a social butterfly at all, he only knew you and your group and his other small group of friends that he studied with.

“Oh, yeah I am.” Jungkook reaches his own hand out to greet her and she does the same. Pulling her hand back after a moment and crossing her leg over the other in thought, “Weren’t you just dating Jisoo?”

There it is. Of course thats how she would know who he was. And that only proved his suspicion that Jisoo was spreading his name around.

She had a defensive cast over her gaze, her eyes boring into Jungkook to analyze him. It clicked instantly that Chaeyoung and Jisoo were best friends so theres no doubt that right now Chaeyoung is ready to chew Jungkook out for being what she thinks is a dirtbag.

You can see how wide Jungkooks eyes get at her question, readjusting himself on the couch while his mind sorts through any possible answer he can give her. How could he clear his name without sounding like the jerk she thinks he currently is?

“Uhm,” his eyes drift over to her for a moment and when he sees her unwavering gaze he looks at Jimin instead, seeing him with his lips pressed in a firm line, “we just went to dinner and the art exhibit. We weren’t dating.”

Chaeyoung’s look softens at that, his answer being a stark contrast to what Jisoo had told her. She had said Jungkook had made her his girlfriend and went on this amazing date and when she didn’t put out he told her they weren’t dating.

Jungkook continues to ramble, thinking that answer doesn’t satisfy her, “Jisoo’s a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong. We just weren’t compatible so it was best if we…moved on?”

Your hand comes up to pat his thigh on top of the blanket, comforting him slightly because you can see how nervous he got. His own hand comes down on top of yours, fingers gently wrapping around it and giving it a squeeze.

“Totally fair,” Chaeyoung finally speaks, “just wanted to make sure you didn’t dump my friend and quickly moved on with Y/N.” Her eyes flicker over to your hands and then up to you with a smile. Jimin cleared his throat beside her, his own hands coming up to rub together to try to clear any awkward tension.

“Okay,” he starts, eyes coming down to look at the plastic bag set by your feet, “please tell me you brought any sort of alcohol.”

You lift your hand off Jungkook’s thigh, leaning forward to rummage through the bottom of your bag and pulling out colorful cans of soju. You wave two of them in your hands in offering, tossing them both to Jimin when he cheers obnoxiously, pulling out another two for you and Jungkook to enjoy.

The four of you crack open the cans, bringing them together in cheers to prepare to down the entire thing as fast as you could before anyone could possibly rat you out. You manage half of it before having to pull back, the carbonation in the drink burning your nose and throat more than the soju in it, “Fuck, why did you get these?” Jimin coughs, fingers coming up to rub at his nose.

“They look like soda cans, I was trying to be inconspicuous.” Jungkook laughs at your pained expression, setting his drink on the floor to get up and grab some of the snacks to make s’mores.

Chaeyoung raises her finished can in the air in victory, licking her lips with a slight grimace, “Done!” She crumples up the can for dramatic effect, you and Jimin staring at her in shock and then looking at each other to see who could finish the rest of their drink faster.

Jimin manages three more gulps until he pulls back again, “Nope,” he coughs, letting out a burp as he pounds onto his chest, “can’t do it.” You finish your own can, tossing it into the second reusable bag you brought thats not being occupied. Chaeyoung jokingly calls Jimin a baby, taking his own can to finish off herself.

When Jungkook returns with his snacks & two metal skewers they fall into their own conversation and Jungkook is thankful because even though Chaeyoung seems okay with him he still feels like if he says the wrong thing she’ll turn and call him a fuck boy or something of that nature.

You reach for a skewer, popping a fluffy marshmallow onto the top of it and leaning forward to reach the fire. He mimics your actions, the both of you giggling when he drops his hand too low and his marshmallow burns a little too hot for a moment.

“Do you like your marshmallows well done?” He asks you as he looks at your fluffy snack hovering over the fire way too low since you were focused on staring at his, a teasing grin on his face, “‘Cause that shit is charred.”

You gasp as you pull back your now black marshmallow, frantically blowing on it when you notice its now entirely burnt and Jungkook cant help but laugh at the frown on your face. He pulls his own perfectly toasted marshmallow up towards your face to mock you, only laughing harder when you bring your own burnt one up beside it to compare them.

“I can still salvage it.” You try to convince yourself, your fingers trying to scrape and pluck away the burnt edges but Jungkook knows as well as you do that it’s beyond repair. While you focus on your failed attempt Jungkook prepares his own s’more, putting two pieces of chocolate around the gooey marshmallow and sandwiching it between the cinnamon crackers.

When he brings it up to your face with a sweet smile the frown on your face deepens at the nice motion, you take a small bite of it and let out a sound of satisfaction when the sweetness hits your tongue, “So good!”

He motions for you to finish it but you just take it from him and force feed it back to him, your hand cupping his cheek to push his lips open and its not until he lets out another laugh that you’re able to pop the rest of the treat into his mouth with no resistance. His cheeks are puffed up and he has a bit of chocolate smeared around his lips, looking absolutely adorable and you really can’t stop yourself from cupping both of his cheeks like an annoying auntie and cooing at him which only makes his cheeks warm up, his mouth coming to life to munch away to get his cheeks to deflate again.

“Cute.”

The following week goes on like normal except for the fact that now you’re slammed with work and school, barely getting a moment to see any of your friends between the chaos of it all. Jungkook has a small moment where he thinks he did something wrong since you seemed to drop off the face of the earth after the bonfire. You had both had a great time, a small buzz coursing through you from the soju and you had convinced him to cram with you on the oversized bean bags to watch the movie playing but your lack of communication even after your shared class has him slightly worried.

He’s currently sat at his desk, fingers tapping on his laptops keyboard as he tried to finish the last 300 words needed for this essay. Taehyung is sat at his own desk and it’s not until he starts to groan and furiously key smash that Jungkook stops what he’s doing to turn around and check on his roommates mental health. “You okay?”

Taehyung groans with his cheek pressed against the buttons on his keyboard, a constant string of the letter f being typed onto his own essay, “Sorry.” He apologizes when he realizes how loud he’s being, “If this is way more information than you were looking for I don’t care, but I haven’t gotten laid in over a week so I’m dying.”

Jungkook just laughs at the vulgar behavior that just comes naturally to Taehyung, until he realizes that his roommates statement of recent celibacy means he hasn’t seen you either. Taehyung lifts his head up, his fingers coming up to scratch as his faded red hair, deciding he should get to work and stop distracting his roommate with information on his personal life.

The tapping continues and Jungkook slides his phone out to send you a text to see if you were doing okay since he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen you recently. He sets his phone down after pressing send, letting the screen stay lit up as he goes back to his work, his eyes constantly darting back to check for any sign of life on your end.

When it vibrates against the desk he peers over to read your response, saying that work and school were ending your social life along with a photo of your current view at work being a desktop lined up with photos you were sorting through, a few textbooks to the left of it to show you trying your best to multitask.

Yoongi looks up from his own spot, peering over his computer to watch you stop whatever it is you’re doing to grab your phone the second it vibrates, small giggles leaving your body as you banter back and forth with Jungkook for the remainder of your shift. Yoongi knows you’re a sucker, he’s just waiting for you to realize it too.

It’s not until nearly a week and a half later that you have a minute to spare, your time already being occupied by Taehyung since he had begged and pleaded for you to help him with his hair dilemma. He’s determined to be Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul and desperately needs to bleach out the faded ass red form his hair while also tackling his roots.

You’re sat on his desk chair while he sits on the floor between your legs with a bowl of bleach being held in his hands. You have teeny tiny foils in his hair to focus on the red ends first, your hands coming down to dip the tint brush into the thick bleach to coat onto his hair and then securely fold up the foils. “I really hope this comes out.” You mumble out as you fold up the final piece of foil, placing the brush into the remaining bleach for later.

“Me too, that costume is the only thing holding my life together.”

He reaches over to set the bowl onto the desk beside the two of you, coming back to get comfortable again between your legs, “Whys that?”

He whips around dramatically, an exasperated look on his face, “Whys that?” He mocks, his fingers coming up to grip your thighs, “I haven’t fucked you in ages.” He whines out, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs harder. The foils on his head crinkle as he drops his face onto your stomach and you just roll your eyes at how he’s acting because it’s only been two weeks.

“You have a hand Taehyung.”

“It’s not the same!”

“Wow,” you laugh out, your hand coming up to awkwardly pat his tinfoil head, “I’ve just been overwhelmed with my current work load.” You explain your current situation, how all your professors were assigning massive projects back to back combined with the extra work at your job, it was taking its toll on you. You enjoy your classes and love your new job but you haven’t been able to catch a break lately.

“Let me help you ease your stress.” He mumbles out against the fabric of your shirt, his hands trailing up from their spot on your thighs up towards your center.

“I’m not fucking you while you have that shit in your hair.”

And just like that he deflates, his arms dropping like deadweight as he crumbles back to the floor like a child. “Fine.”

He stays in that same position, letting you pat your hand on his head as you both scrolled through your phones, only standing up after you had applied the bleach to his roots and deemed it ready to wash.

You make your way to the boys restroom, Taehyung shoving his head underneath the weak stream of water coming from the sink as you help him rinse the bleach from his hair. He stays with his head bowed forward, his eyes squeezed shut as you applied the purple toner you had mixed.

When you step away to rinse your hands he stands back up to stare at his reflection in the mirror, the skin around his hairline is red from irritation thanks to the bleach and the toner had turned a very scary shade of purple but he trusts you so he doesn’t panic.

“Just fifteen minutes max and then you’re good to go baby.” His eyes move to stare at you from the reflection, seeing you staring at him with a smile, he looks so cute with his hair balled up on top of his head, his eyes wide and curious.

“Then we can fuck?” Yup, and that cute innocent look is gone, but that tiny smile spreading on his face makes you crack, “Yes Tae, then we can fuck.”

So when the timer goes off Taehyung rips off his clothes, surely staining his shirt with the dye on his head but thats a problem for a later date, the shirt laying forgotten on the floor in the corner as he approaches the showers with his hand wrapped around your arm. “In here?” You shout out, your voice bouncing off the tiled room. It’s currently not occupied but you’re not sure how long that’s gonna last for.

“Why not? I don’t wanna wait any longer.” He shrugs, throwing open the shower curtain and letting out a loud scream when he comes face to face with that cursed skeleton everyone on his floor keeps moving around. You burst into laughter and he joins in, his hand clutching his chest to try to slow his heart beat. “Okay, that one’s occupied.” He closes the curtain and moves to the very last one instead.

You pick up his shirt and ball it up to toss it on the bench in front of the shower stall he chose. Your eyes roam the room again, seeing the coast was clear as Taehyung fidgets with the water temperature. He peeks back out to slip out of his sweats and boxers, wiggling his eyebrows as he kicks them to lay beneath the same bench his shirt was on. Your mind was made up, your hands lifting your shirt up and off of you, sliding down the comfy lounging shorts you have on and Taehyung groans when he notices you don’t have any underwear on.

“You knew this was gonna happen didn’t you?”

You kick your clothing over to join his, “Wishful thinking?” You respond with a smirk, squealing loudly when his arm wraps around your waist to drag you into the awaiting stall.

“Wash that off first!” You warn him, pushing his face away from yours. He sighs and crouches down, tilting his head back so you can help him rinse the toner out of his hair. When he’s all clean you pat his cheek, letting him stand up properly and tower over you. He’s giving you that half smirk, his body backing you up against the shower wall, his back successfully blocking the stream of the shower from you because he knows you’re really not trying to get your hair wet.

“You know, you look kinda hot with silver hair.” His eyebrows raise up at your statement, his head tilting slightly, “Kinda like-” You gasp when his fingers make contact with your waist, starting to trail them down, that teasing smirk still on his face as he waits for you to finish your sentence, “like a real life anime character.”

He hums, “Oh? Does that turn you on?”

You just nod, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip as you stared up at him. When his fingers pass your hips and dip down to part your lips his mouth opens up in fake shock, “Messy baby, you weren’t lying. You’re so wet already.”

The groan you let out hardly gets muffled by the noise of the shower but thats the last of your worries right now, your mind too focused on the feeling of his fingers gathering up your arousal, trailing up and down your slit teasingly, “I can’t help it, it’s been too long.” And he knows this, stepping even closer to lock your lips in a heated kiss, it’s been way too long.

He starts to circle his fingers around your entrance but you shake your head, your lips pulling back from his with a small gasp, “No, just fuck me please.” He rests his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing at how desperate your voice sounds. Something about how eager and hungry you always were for sex fueled him, always kept him wanting more.

“Whatever you want baby.” He plants a small kiss on your forehead as he places his hands on your waist, twirling you around and pressing your chest against the cold tile. Then theres a loud wet smack echoing from his palm connecting against your ass, another squeal being heard as a giggly but hushed sound of his name leaves your lips.

And as Jungkook stands at the sink, washing his hands after using the bathroom, he feels his heart stop. He had walked in a minute or so ago, hearing the sounds of a couple talking with the shower running and he knew they were gonna fuck because thats honestly a common occurrence but he didn’t know it was you.

The tap keeps running, his hands still stuck under it as his neck cranes to look to the far left where the shower section was. He sees the ball of clothes you two must have kicked off to the side. The white shower curtain being short enough to see the two pairs of feet in the shower and the position they were currently in made it glaringly obvious that Taehyung was pounding into you from behind and as if he needed more confirmation, you just moaned out for him to fuck you harder.

It was when another loud smack echoed out, mixed in with a grunt from Taehyung that he decided he needed to get the fuck out of there. So he did, not bothering to wipe his hands dry as he scurried away, his cheeks burning up and a mysterious feeling in his chest that he could feel spreading to the rest of his body. He never let you guys know what he had witnessed, not even when you both walked back into the room with your clothes clinging on to your still damp body.

The next time you see Jungkook is a few days later as you’re about to enter the cafe. You don’t speak to him because you spot him a few feet away, walking out of the arts building and in the direction of the schools cafeteria. It takes you a moment to even realize it’s him because his hair is no longer black and you have an inkling that Taehyung is the one that helped him with this.

You decide you’ll find him after you get your coffee and enter the shop. Instantly you spot Jisoo stood behind the cash register and she looks flustered when you make eye contact. Regardless you walk up to her and order a caramel macchiato, adding an americano to the mix since you plan on seeing Jungkook right after this anyways.

Jisoo raises her eyebrows when you order the americano, no doubt knowing its for Jungkook since thats always been his drink of choice here. “Thank you by the way.” She speaks up after you finish telling her your order.

Her comment catches you off guard, “Thank you for what?”

She scribbles on the cups before handing them off to her coworker to get started on. The cafe doesn’t currently have anyone else waiting to order so she stays at the register to chat. “For helping Jungkook with our date.”

You’re about to play stupid but she raised her hand to stop you, “Look, I know you’re the one who suggested both dates to him so thanks.” You’re stunned to silence, not really sure how you should respond but she keeps talking, “It’s just a shame isn’t it?”

“What is?” Your arms are now crossed defensively across your chest.

“That all boys want to do is get in your pants, no one likes romance anymore. I thought Jungkook was nice, goes to show all men are pigs.”

You don’t know why that irritates you as much as it does but you can’t stop yourself from snapping at her, “I’m sorry what exactly did Jungkook do to you that was so horrible?” That wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for, her eyes widening slightly at the sharp tone in your voice, “Because from what I know he took you on two very nice dates and you were the one that cornered him in your hallway, beyond ready to get into his pants without even speaking to him. Sounds like you’re the pig here Jisoo.”

Her face blanks, obviously not thinking you knew the details of the date. She was expecting to be able to spill whatever fake warning she had been telling all of her friends to stay away from Jungkook. “If he was truly as horrible as you’re making everyone believe he is he would’ve slept with you and left the second he got what he wanted.” At that moment her coworker came up with both drinks in hand and a grimace on his face at the interaction he had witnessed. You gripped them both and thanked him before walking out of there as fast as you could so you wouldn’t do something irrational.

Your face felt red, not from embarrassment but from holding in your anger. Jungkook didn’t deserve to have someone talk about him like this, he wasn’t a pig, he was the furthest from that. He was a very sweet gentleman who went out of his way to be as polite as he could. Jungkook was very much boyfriend material and it wasn’t fair that Jisoo could bad mouth him all she wanted because she was salty about being rejected.

You were marching down your campus, some of your drink was sloshing out of the opening in the lid, splashing onto your hand and burning the fuck out of it but it wasn’t processing in your mind as you entered the cafeteria and hoped Jungkook was still here.

You pause at the entryway to scan the room, it was full at this hour since most students came here after their 6pm class to catch a bite for dinner. Eyes roaming over each table you spot the new half blonde and half red hair that belongs to Jungkook, he’s sat next to two other boys all of them laughing and goofing off with their trays in front of them. And now you’re unsure if you should approach him, his back is towards you but one of his friends glances up and makes eye contact, offering you a weird smile. Jungkook notices and cranes around to see what the hell his friend is staring at, noticing you standing awkwardly with your two cups of coffee. You expect him to just give you a half assed greeting before he turns around but his smile gets bigger and he’s waving you over.

You shyly smile and make your way over, slipping between the occupied tables to sit in the spot beside Jungkook. “I uh, I saw you coming this way so I got you a coffee since you know.” You motion with your hands and he understands, he hadn’t had his favorite coffee in weeks because he had been avoiding the cafe like the plague.

“Thank you.” He accepts the cup and takes a gulp, exaggerating a moan to show how much he missed it. That makes his friends and you laugh as you mumble out a no problem, your hands cupping your own drink. At the thought of coffee he pauses, grabbing his bag and sorting through it to pull out the mug he promised you.

You gasp when he hands it over, its a slightly bumpy jumbo mug that he had glazed in black, the inside of the cup being glazed white with a small bat being put on the bottom. You flipped it over to analyze it some more, your thumb grazing over the engraving of his initials he put underneath it, “Oh my god, its perfect!”

Jungkooks friends see the way his ears redden the second he handed you the gift and they want to tease him but theyre scared of the beating they’ll get when you’re gone.

“It’s big enough for two cups.” It definitely is, it was deep and pretty wide. You would be putting it to use tomorrow when you needed a morning cup at work. Jungkook watches the way you stare at the mug like its your newest prized possession and he smiles, picking up his cup of coffee again to take a sip.

“Jisoos a bitch by the way.” You blurt out before you can help yourself and the entire table stays silent, your eyes wide in shock that you even said anything at all.

He holds the coffee cup by his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and the cutest pout on his lips, “What do you mean?”

You push your cup a little bit away from you, tugging your sweaters sleeves over your palms, “I mean she’s a bitch.” Point blank period. “When I ordered these she tried to take that opportunity to talk shit about you to me, called you a pig or something.” You fake disinterest, “So I went off on her.”

His friends holler at that, no doubt knowing what happened between him and Jisoo, one of them offers you a high five which you awkwardly accept. Jungkook just stares at you, in disbelief that Jisoo was trying to make him look bad to you of all people, but he was even more surprised that you had been so quick to defend him.

“You didn’t have to do that, but…I appreciate it.” You shrug, a small smile on your face which he reciprocates.

“Oh,” he puts the coffee down again and gestures towards his friends, “by the way, Y/N this is Mingyu and Eunwoo.” They greet you respectfully, Mingyu whispering something into Eunwoo’s ear before he nods and they both start snickering and then Jungkooks swiftly kicking one of their shins under the table, causing the cheap thing to shake.

You jump at the action and Jungkook glares at his friends before looking at you, “Sorry, weird spasm. Are you hungry?” He quickly changes the subject, desperately trying to get you away from his friends before they say some shit to embarrass him in front of you because he knows they will. They had been the ones subjected to the endless texts in the group chat where Jungkook went on mini rants that switched from trying to convince himself and his group that he did not have a crush on you to asking them for advice on how to best approach you.

At his question you realize you are in fact hungry so you get up with him and follow him to the food options, his now empty tray in hand, you grab a tray from the stack in the corner as you see what catches your eye. Jungkook reaches for the mozzarella sticks, plopping a good handful onto a plate and setting it on his tray with a smile. You copy his actions and grab another plate, putting a regular cheeseburger on it along with some fries. Since Jungkook had already had a burger before you got here he settles for a few chicken wings instead, grabbing a drink for himself and another for you when you motion that you want the same one.

“I like the hair by the way.” You finally speak when you’re both swiping your student cards.

He picks one hand up to ruffle his freshly dyed hair, the red and blonde strands falling slightly over his eyes, “Thanks, it’s for Halloween. I was just gonna spray paint it but Tae convinced me to dye it.”

Just as you figured, “Who are you going as, Todoroki?”

He nods quickly, his face showing his obvious excitement, “Yes! Thats exactly who I’m supposed to be. Have you thought of your costume yet?”

With both trays in hand you start the walk back to the table, “Yeah not as nerdy as yours and Tae’s but close enough.” You tease him, not aware of the stares Jungkooks friends were currently giving you two, “I’m dressing up as Raven from Teen Titans.”

He gulps at that, Raven’s costume wasn’t down right in your face sexy but something about you being in a tight black leotard with your legs bare and a cape covering you up has Jungkook’s weeb ass sweating.

And he didn’t have to wait long to see it since Halloween landed on the upcoming Saturday. All of you were gathered at Jimin’s apartment, all in full nerd gear with shot glasses in hand. The party was being held at one of his friends places which meant expensive booze and a nice house, a drastic change from the dirty parties at the delta fucking whatevers so needless to say you guys were all pumped.

It was currently 10:30 at night and you were about to order a few ubers to head over, your body was buzzing from the two shots you’ve taken, enough to loosen you up.

Jimin is currently dressed in full Joker attire, the new version, his blonde hair is temporarily dyed green with paste, slicked back off of his face and it kills you that hes able to rock any look. “You’re the bane of my existence.”

He has his hand wrapped around you with a smile, raising his eyebrows and making the painted red ones lift up too, “It’s not my fault I was blessed with beautiful genes.” You just roll your eyes, declining the third shot he hands you and he just shrugs and takes it instead, keeping his arm around you as he grimaces and slams the shot glass down on the counter in front of you two.

Jungkook is sat on the couch in the living room beside Yoongi who’s dressed liked Naruto and you finally realize what a giant bunch of losers you and your friends are. Namjoon is stood over by the record player that has music filling up the room, dressed up as Gudetama in a comfortable looking onesie, beside him is Jin and his girlfriend Arang who are dressed in matching pumpkin costumes looking adorable as ever. Hoseok is stood next to Taehyung by the liquor bottle a few feet away from you and Jimin, dressed like an inmate, a pair of handcuffs wrapped around one single wrist for show.

Your eyes move back to Jungkook, he’s decked out in full Todoroki gear, a blue tracksuit on with the white accents and belt, even similar boots and the damn burn on his face to finish it off. The way hes sat on the couch with his legs spread out is like an open invitation to be sat on, you always forget how buff Jungkook is but seeing his thick muscles pulling the fabric taut around his thighs is making your mouth water.

“I knew it.” Jimin whispers in your ear when he catches you staring at the younger boy.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are into him, Yoongi mentioned it to me and I noticed it a while back but I didn’t believe it.”

You trust Jimin, he’s undoubtedly your best friend but you’re not ready to admit to feelings you aren’t even sure you fully have yet so you shrug indifferently, “Honestly, I’m just admiring his juicy ass thighs.”

He peers over and stares at them as well, humming in appreciation, “Well you’re not wrong.”

Taehyung pours himself another shot, letting it overflow a bit as he watches you and Jimin staring at Jungkook. He has his Kaneki face mask partially tugged down to not interfere with his ability to get hammered so the weird grimace he sports is visible for anyone to see. He got it, Jungkook was attractive and muscular and Taehyung had offered to help dye his hair for his costume in hopes that it would land him a chick tonight so he’d back off of you but his plan seems to be backfiring on him.

Taehyung hates that he feels the jealousy blooming in him when he sees you walk over to Jungkook, offering him a shot with a grin, sitting down beside him and laughing at the way he crinkles his nose. He swears he doesn’t feel jealous because he likes you deeper than the current arrangement you both have, its just that stupid territorial mindset he never fully grew out of taking over. He was currently still sober enough which is why he was trying so hard to squish it down, thats all it was.

He knows if you turned around and decided to stop sleeping with him and moved on to Jungkook for that or even a relationship he wouldn’t fight you on it because you could do whatever you wanted but he was hoping what you two had would have lasted longer than a few months and you wouldn’t be setting your sights on his roommate of all people or at least had the decency to tell him. Its not until Hoseok swats his arm, giving him a weird glare, that he snaps him out of blatantly staring at you and Jungkook.

When the ubers finally come you all split up to make yourselves fit into them, Taehyung lucking out and getting stuck in the uber you, Jungkook, and Jimin were in, leaving you sandwiched between him and Jungkook in the back row while Jimin occupied the passengers seat. Taehyung is tense in his seat and you can feel it, his hands clenched and resting on his lap as he stares out the window, counting down the seconds until you all pull up in front of the giant house party.

“It’s my friend Taemin’s house, he’s honestly probably hammered already.” Jimin says once your whole group is gathered on the front lawn. He takes the lead and walks up the path laid out, opening the door to enter the booming house, loud house music being blasted from the giant speakers in the corners.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon speaks out, his eyes taking in how enormous the house was. The ceilings were stupid high, an expensive looking chandelier being the main focus in the current room but it was clear the home owner didn’t pay it much attention considering the shiny diamonds were currently covered in those fake cobwebs.

“How many people are even here?” Arang speaks up as you all make your way deeper into the house. The place is swarming with people, all in their own costumes and you don’t believe that Taemin even knows everyone here.

“Probably a few hundred people, a thousand if he’s fucking insane.” Jimin laughs, his hand coming up to point across the room as he finally spots Taemin in the second living room area he had. He was sat on the couch, looking pretty drunk but the second he spotted Jimin he sprung up and met him halfway in a clumsy hug.

“Thanks for coming out you guys.” He speaks up like he actually knows who you all are even though you’re all strangers, “Feel free to drink whatever you want, theres no rules just please don’t break my shit. Theres also a costume contest happening at midnight with some cash prizes.” When he finishes his little host speech he bows dramatically before someone else calls out for him and he’s gone.

You and your friends don’t need to be told twice, instantly gravitating towards the drinks to get as drunk as everyone else seemed to already be. The array of pricey liquor has you wanting to cry, you absolutely loved the rich for this reason only. The one thing you’re all good at is getting absolutely sauced so it doesn’t take long for you guys to catch up.

Little by little everyone slowly splitting up when the night progresses, there was too much going on in all the different areas of the house, along with who knows what happening in the backyard but you’re pretty sure theres a pool out there, something you would definitely be avoiding because it was freezing.

Hoseok and you end up together as you usually do, being designated party buddies. You’re stood at the back of a room thats currently having a very drunk karaoke concert going on, a very dramatic rendition of Dont Stop Believing being the song of choice and you’re both clapping your hands anc cheering along when the six foot tall Ash Ketchum goes out of his way to make his own adlibs.

You tell Hoseok you’ll be right back as you venture back out of the room to go grab another mixed drink. On your way there you spot Jungkook sat on the couch beside Namjoon, a very pretty girl stood beside him, trying her best to get his attention but he’s either not interested or completely oblivious to her advances because he brushes her off and starts a conversation with Namjoon instead. You’re pouring your drink into your cup when the girl walks away from him with a roll of her eyes, saying something to her waiting group of friends before they all make their way outside.

Just as you’re about to go over to him Taehyung pops up on your left, slinging his arm over you in the sloppy way that lets you know he’s been throwing back way more shots than you have. “Can I ask you something?” He slurs into your ear, choosing to stand in front of you, putting you between him and the counter behind you.

“Sure.” You say as you take a sip of your strong drink, your eyes looking up at him and seeing them glazed over, a hint of uncertainty in them.

He looks down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you, the three tequila shots he just took minutes ago doing nothing to stop him from squishing down his emotions now, “Are you fucking Jungkook?”

You quickly swallow the liquid in your mouth so you don’t spit it out, your face showing how absurd you think his question is, “What? No?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you, not entirely believing you because of how you two have been acting recently, he sees the way Jungkook acts whenever you text him and he knew you two had started to hang out more on your own. And he would’ve thought it was a normal hang out until Jimin had uploaded a video of the bonfire and he had seen you two making cutesy eyes at each other as you fed him a s’more.

You can see the gears turning in his head but you speak up again before he has a chance to say some stupid shit, “How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough!” He shouts back and thats confirmation enough for you to know that whatever conversation he thinks he wants to have right now will have to wait.

“Okay you weirdo, get a grip please and back off.” His current attitude was getting on your nerves only because it’s something you’re not used to dealing with when it came to him. Even though you’re half kidding at your statement there’s still some truth to it and he hears it loud and clear, stepping back like a toddler and giving you some space. He mumbles something out about going to find Jimin but you don’t pay it any mind, just nodding along as you drink more of your concoction and go back to join Hoseok in the karaoke room again.

Another hour passes, a few minutes shy of midnight so you know the costume contest will be taking place soon. You and Hoseok have drifted away from each other, him deciding to go join the dance floor at the front of the house where as you find yourself watching an intense game of guitar hero being played. The giant flat screen lets any onlooker clearly see the battle happening and you don’t notice Jungkook beside you until he’s nudging you with his hip, a goofy smile on his face when you stumble over slightly.

“You really suit this character.” He’s standing there with his arms crossed and for one of the first times since you’ve known him he has this very confident aura coming from him. Maybe it’s because he’s had too much to drink to care or maybe it’s because he feels like he’s in his element in this dorky costume but confidence looks good on him.

“Should I just live my entire life as Todoroki then?”

His eyes are glassy from the alcohol and his cheeks are pink but he can tell you’ve had a bit more to drink than him, your tongue becoming too loose to hold anything back, “I definitely wouldn’t mind it.” When he notices your eyes raking up his body and back down, stopping at his thighs once more before looking at his eyes again, he just blushes and chooses to uncross his arms to take a sip of his drink.

He’s been noticing your constant eyeing of his thighs, having caught you staring at them at Jimin’s place earlier tonight, and now that you were drunk you were doing a worse job at trying to play it off. “Has anyone ever told you that your thighs are beautiful?” You finally address it.

Jungkook raises both of his eyebrows, looking down at himself, shifting his weight between both legs and stretching one out. “Can’t say they have.”

“Just wanna bite em…” You mumble under your breath and he chuckles, catching your words but not speaking on it. The shots are definitely seeping further into your blood because your hands are coming up and out, grabbing the meaty skin of his right thigh and he’s yelping from the shock, jumping slightly before balancing out so his drink wouldn’t spill.

You’re grinning sweetly as you give his thigh another quick squeeze and retreat back. You only hum in thought, your mind wondering what they look like under the pants he’s currently wearing. Jungkook is still too caught off guard, any words he wants to say getting stuck in his throat as he observes the room to see if anyone saw that.

The reality of what you just did slowly sinks in and he catches the switch, your eyes sharpening up and you take a very small step back, “Are none of these girls good enough for you?”

“What?”

You nervously swallow more of your drink which probably isn’t wise because look at what you had already done with the alcohol already in your system, “I promised you I’d get you laid by the end of this month and i’ve seen like four girls come up to you and you blew them off.”

That was true, he had done that all night but it had been such an automatic response that he wasn’t sure why he had, something about sleeping with a complete stranger in another strangers home felt wrong. That and the fact that he wanted to sleep with you was also getting in the way, but his inner self currently had that thought in a headlock, a very loose and slowly weakening headlock but a headlock nonetheless, so he was ignoring it.

“They didn’t even know who I’m supposed to be.” He lies as an excuse and it makes you laugh, tipping your cup up and pouring the rest of its contents down your throat.

“Is that you’re only reason?”

He nods stubbornly, sticking with his horrible excuse until it turns around and bites him in the ass. “Well I know who you’re supposed to be, so what does that mean?”

He blanks at that, really not expecting the turn this would take. You watch him, his big doe eyes only getting bigger at your words. He rolls his lips together in thought, his mind sorting through all the appropriate responses he could say. During his distraction he doesn’t notice his inner self releasing the headlock grip he had on his feelings until it’s too late and they’re spilling out into the open.

“It means I wanna fuck you.”

Yeah. That wasn’t what he wanted to say, at all, but his filter had clearly been lost a few shots back and when you don’t immediately slap him he doesn’t think he fucked up entirely.

“You wanna fuck me?” You repeat slowly, stepping closer to him. You had a feeling he did based on that drunk text he had sent you but you had to make sure he really wanted to and this wasn’t just a nervous response. Jimin and Yoongi were right in their observations of both of you, you wanted to sleep with him, you have ever since that night in your room and the realistic dreams involving him haven’t stopped so maybe once you sleep with him everything will mellow out in your brain.

This isn’t a crush, you try to convince yourself, this is just your hormones talking. It’s not your fault that imaginary Jungkook would moan such sweet praises in your ear while you dreamed, thats why you were stuck wearing i’m horny for jungkook glasses, and once you slept with each other all would be fine.

His eyes look around, he could see Tae and Jimin stood near the kitchen, Tae doubling over in laughter at something being said and when you see who he’s looking up it only annoys you. Taehyung didn’t have this claim on you and you knew Jungkook was just worried because he didn’t fully believe no feelings were involved between you and Tae but you were sick of people thinking you belonged to him.

You raise your hand up to cup his cheek, bringing his attention back to you, “I asked you a question Jungkook.”

He looks back over to you, seeing your own eyes staring up at him and he finds himself nodding his head. Sure you both aren’t sober at all and will he be embarrassed about this once he is, probably, but he knows he’ll regret not being completely honest tomorrow morning if he says no.

At his confirmation you smile, you had spotted the staircase nearby, knowing there would be rooms you two could occupy but when you start to tug him in the direction of it he resists.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t feel right using someone’s room to do this.” Jungkook wasn’t a virgin so you knew he wasn’t wanting this to be a certain way for his first time but he’d only ever been intimate with one person and it hadn’t gone the way he wanted at all so if he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with you in this house it was fine by you.

“Do you want to go back to mine then?” The urgency that usually came with party hook ups was missing, you didn’t feel rushed to get in a room and tear his clothes off without speaking to each other, he wasn’t just a hook up.

When he nods his head you don’t think twice to pull him in the direction towards the front door, a loud tapping noise stopping you both in your tracks. Everyone stops talking, turning towards the source of the noise and seeing Taemin stood on top of his coffee table with a microphone in hand, his finger tapping the top of it to check it.

“Okay, fuck it works dude!” Jimin shouted out, everyones hands coming up to cover their ears when Taemin just laughs loudly into the mic.

It was time for the costume contest and as much as you wouldn’t mind seeing who won or even potentially winning the cash prize yourself, the thought of finally getting to sleep with Jungkook wins. You look back at him, your eyes asking him if he wants to wait but he shakes his head, his fingers giving your palm another squeeze. You choose not to notify your friends that you were leaving, they were all drunk enough and were already planning on sleeping at Jimin’s after this anyways so you had a few hours before they even noticed you had both disappeared.

Jungkook feels oddly calm, the nerves that had overtaken him when he was in this position the very first time not coming up, even the small sense of uncertainty he felt when it came to Jisoo was gone and he likes it. He likes the feel of your hand in his as you wait for the uber. He likes how you rest your clasped hands on your thigh, your thumb rubbing the back of his palm soothingly and when you finally manage to sneak into your building he likes the way you push him against the elevator wall, your lips slotting between his in the first sign of urgency.

When you lick your way into his mouth he tastes the strong tang of tequila that he’s sure you can taste from him as well but he doesn’t mind it. His hands coming up to wrap around your waist, the thin material of your leotard letting you feel his touch as his fingers dig into your waist to pull you closer to him. You’re on your tip toes and he’s leaning over to match your height, the sound of the elevator ding making you both pull apart with heavy sighs.

You twirl back around, your head peaking out of the elevator to make sure the coast was clear since you technically weren’t allowed to have Jungkook over at this time. Once you saw the hallway was clear you wrapped your hand over his wrist, tugging him to your door in a haste to get out of the open. You make it a few feet when the sound of the bathroom door opening makes you both freeze, Jungkook has his eyes screwed shut as he waits for someone to start to scold you both. You’re waiting for it too, especially when you turn around and spot Jihyo, your RA, standing in the middle of the hallway right in front of the bathroom door.

She’s currently rubbing her eyes, tipsy and in a revealing Sailor Mars costume. When she spots you and Jungkook looking just as tipsy and your lips swollen she just sighs, throwing her head back dramatically, “Go, hurry up and get in your room. I didn’t see anything.” You throw her a thankful look and she just shields her eyes as she makes her way back into her room, you don’t waste anymore time as you slide your key card out of your bra and unlock your room.

“Wait, your roommate.” Jungkook whispers, just now realizing that she existed. He’s stood right on the door’s threshold, refusing to come in until you literally force him, your hand tugging him in. His hands grasp your shoulders to not knock you over from the force of your pull, he finally gets a chance to look around when you flick your light on and he notices Wendy is no where to be found.

“She’s went out of town for Halloween, we’re fine, now please kiss me.” The door shuts behind Jungkook, that answer satisfies him, his hands moving off your shoulders to cup your face and bring you in for another kiss. Your mind feels like its floating as he starts to walk, leading you backwards towards your bed.

Your hands slide up his chest as you make your way to your bed, your fingers clasping the zipper of his costume and tugging it down, revealing his bare skin. He had decided not to wear anything underneath his tracksuit, he always got hot and sweaty when he was drunk so he didn’t want to add more layers than necessary, and luckily it worked in his favor.

Your fingertips leave a hot trail on his skin as you work on getting this article of clothing off of him, his hands coming away from your face as you push the sleeves down his arms, the material falling onto the floor in a heap. His lips never part from yours, his actions getting more confident, his kisses getting more urgent because he can’t seem to get enough of you.

His hands trail up to unclasp the cape around your shoulders, letting the crushed velvet garment join his top on the floor, and then its a race of getting the rest of your clothing off. You pull back from him your lips smacking together one final time when you step back, your eyes finally getting to see him shirtless for the first time.

Is he for real? Was he sculpted by the fucking gods themselves because this wasn’t fair. You always knew Jungkook worked out like a madman but you never expected him to look like this. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the muscles in his arms rippling as he fidgeted with the stupid belt he had on and when he finally got it off and was able to slide out of his boots and pants your wishes were granted in the form of his thighs.

You had forgotten about sliding out of your leotard and belt, your boots were kicked off to the side but when his thick thighs were exposed you dropped to the floor in front of him. Jungkook wasn’t expecting that, part of him thought you might of passed out or something from how suddenly you collapsed but when your hand come up to trail his thighs he knows you’re fine.

“Are you joking?” You mumble out, your mind acting on it’s own accord, you press open mouth kisses on his thighs, your fingers giving them small squeeze as you kiss your way up to the band of his briefs.

Jungkook had fantasized about this so many times put now that you were sitting right in front of him on your knees, your mouth kissing his dick over the fabric of his briefs, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from blowing his load the second you put it in your mouth.

“Have you ever had a blowjob Kookie?” The nickname is new but he likes it, especially when he sees how you look at him when you say it, your eyes widening slightly when he shakes his head. No he’s never had a blowjob and as much as he wants to experience his first one from you he won’t ever let himself live it down if he cums before he gets a chance to fuck you.

“Can I be honest?” He mumbles out as your fingers slip underneath the band of his briefs, beginning to tug it down slowly, his legs stepping out of the material as it bunches around his ankles.

His cock springs out without the restraint of his briefs and your mouth salivates at the sight of it. Of course Jeon Jungkook would have a beautiful big dick, its veiny with a slight upward curve, the girth of it making you bite your lip in anticipation of it stretching you open. Your eyes move back up to him and you smile gently, “Yeah of course.”

He moves his own hands to cover your smaller ones, his fingers wrapping around your fingertips to lift them off his skin. “Can we…do that next time,” it slips out before he can catch it, indication of this happening again and you take note of it, the lust clouding your mind not being against that happening, “I just really wanna fuck you.” He confesses, his body bending over, his arms hooking under your arms to scoop you up from the floor with ease.

“Yeah,” you breathe out as he stands you up, his hands cupping your cheeks with care, his thumb tracing your skin as he stares down at you, “we can do that next time.”

You reach out and let your hands touch his waist, the feel of his bare skin making you realize he’s the only one naked right now. You turn him around so his back is facing your bed, your hands gently pushing him back onto it.

He catches himself with his palms, sliding back onto your bed until he’s laying against the pillows you have set up. He watches as you reach back to unclasp the ruby belt you have, letting it fall with a clank as you move on to unbutton the top of your leotard, slipping the skin tight fabric off of your body.

Jungkook can feel his dick twitch against his abs at the sight of you, you crawl onto the bed, your fingers trailing up his thighs as you straddle him in a similar way that brings back memories of a few weeks ago. The feeling of you sat on top of him with no barrier is something he never thought he’d experience and when he feels the slick glide of you grinding down on his cock his stomach caves in, a groan leaving his lips. His fingers come up to grip your hips, your own hands wrapping around his neck as you smile down on him.

“Feel good?” You ask him, a tiny gasp escaping you when you repeat your actions and his cock nudges your clit.

His eyes move down to stare at the spot where you connect, seeing how shiny you’re leaving him as your arousal mixes with his precum makes his mouth drop open in awe. “Yeah, feels good.” He whispers out, his hands gripping your skin tighter to make you rut on him faster.

You can see the desperation growing on him, the shy Jungkook you were so accustomed to nowhere to be found as he rolled his hips up to meet your motions, his head dropping back into the pillows with a moan. With his neck wide open you lean forward, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, your teeth gently nipping at his skin, making his hips stutter.

Blame mistake number one on you wanting to see Jungkook fully fall apart underneath you but you’re not thinking too much when you reach down and grasp his cock, letting the tip of it nudge your entrance. You know you’re clean and on birth control and unless he’s been lying to you, you assume he should be clean as well.

His head snaps up at the new sensation, and Jungkook may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid, “Wait–“ You think he’s stopping you because you haven’t pulled out a condom so you pause, giving him a curious look but his mind is too full of want that he doesn’t even process the fact that there isn’t a condom “it’s gonna hurt you.” He wants to finger you, stretch you open and let his fingers explore your body until you falling apart.

“It’s okay, I like that.” You admit, giggling when you see his cheeks flush. You go back to nudging the tip of him into you, the feeling of it breaching your entrance has you moaning and Jungkook drops one hand off your hip to clutch your comforter instead, his fingers clenching around the fabric as your walls wrap around the tip of him.

“Fuck,” you groan out, he was big but the feeling of him stretching you out had another gush of arousal slip out of you, only aiding in letting you slide down another inch or so. Your hands come forward to rest on his stomach as you wait a moment, Jungkook can feel you clenching around the first few inches of him, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him all around.

You relax your muscles, letting the rest of him slide into you, the tip of him just shy of nudging your cervix when you’re fully sat on him. You give him a moment to adjust, waiting until his eyes open up again, “Please move.” He croaks out, his hand coming back up to your hips to get you to do anything because the feeling of you just clenching around him was killing him.

His desperation turns you on and you start to move instantly, grinding on him to let yourself get used to the size of him before you start to lift yourself up, slamming back down, the slap of your skin connecting filling up the dorm room.

As you stare down at him you have to pinch yourself because the visual of him whimpering underneath you is an exact replica of the dreams you’ve been having. A needy Jungkook kneading the flesh of your hips, rutting his own hips up to meet you, his big eyes blown out with lust and adoration in the same damn way you’ve been dreaming about and you know you’re done for.

Jungkook can say the same, the countless times he’s dreamt of you doing this to him has him thinking he’s stuck in a dream, ready to wake up to his roommate tossing a pillow at him but it never comes because you’re actually here. You’re here on top of him, riding him like it’s something you’ve always wanted. His hand trails up from your hip to grasp your bouncing boob, giving it an experimental squeeze, his thumb and index finger tweaking your nipple and enjoying the way you moan from it.

He can feel your arousal dripping down his length every time you lift up, the remnants of it pooling around the base of his cock, he can see it as his eyes are glued to the way your lips part to take his length in. He can feel you start to get tired from the constant motion, your movements slowing down slightly so he takes it upon himself to wrap his arms around you and bring you closer to his chest, successfully flipping you over underneath him.

Your hair fans out around you and you stare up at him in shock, never thinking he’d do something like that but it only lasts a minute before hes sliding back into you. His hands are by your face, caging your body underneath his as he pounds into you.

His jaw is clenched tightly when he feels you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers trying to cling onto his back from the force of his thrusts. “Do you want it harder?” He grunts out, looking down at you to see you nodding frantically, your legs wrapping around his waist to push him deeper into you.

“Please ple–“ you gasp when he slides out before rearing back into you, starting a brutal pace that you didn’t think he was capable of. “Just like that. God Jungkook.” You cry out and he feels his chest fill with pride. You were moaning out his name, he was the one making you feel this way.

You can feel him graze your bundle of nerves every time he thrusts forward, a high pitched moan leaving you and he does another experimental thrust to find the exact spot, angling his hips until you’re gasping and then he’s grinding right into it every time. Determined to get you to cum before him he keeps it up, he can feel his climax creeping in on him, you’re squeezing him so tight its almost impossible to thrust into you but he can tell you’re close when your hand comes down to rub your clit and he almost cums from that sight alone.

Seeing you squirming underneath him as your fingers worked to push yourself over the edge just made him thrust harder into you, a deep groan leaving his mouth when you gasped out, your walls clamping around him even tighter than before as you threw your head back. You had enough sense to clasp a hand over your mouth before you moaned out at as your body twitched from your orgasm, the feeling of Jungkook continuing to pound into you only making more muffled whimpers leave you from the overstimulation.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He mumbles out, his head dropping forward to rest between your neck and shoulder as he starts to rut faster into you. Your toes are curling from the after shocks of your climax, the tingles all over your body being the cause of mistake number two, “Cum inside me Jungkook, please.”

His face lifts back up at your statement, checking to make sure you mean it and when you nod and press your lips against his for another heated kiss he doesn’t hold back. His hips rolling into yours with new found energy, your body being jostled up at his action but you don’t care when all you taste is him, your kisses swallowing the desperate whine that leave him as he nears his end. His thrusts get sloppier until he’s groaning out deeply, his hips stuttering as his cock paints your walls white. You moan again at the feeling of his warm cum inside of you, letting him roll his hips a few more times as you kiss him gently to bring him back down.

His arms fail him, his body flopping on top of you in a heap, his muscles absolutely crushing you but the way he wraps your arms underneath your waist and nuzzles into you makes you forget about your inability to breath. His face is pressed against your neck under your chin, his soft dick is still inside you and he really doesn’t want to pull it out, he’d be perfectly content with going to sleep and waking up in this position.

You keep your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers gently playing with his damp hair, “I miss your black hair.” You mumble out, breaking the silence that fell over the room.

He hums against your neck, kissing your skin gently in content when you scratch his scalp, “I’ll dye it back for you.”

You don’t know why that statement makes your heart swell but it does, your lips coming down to kiss his hair before laying back down. The both of you catch your breaths like this, Jungkook having his cheek pressed against your skin and you gently massaging his head.

He can feel the sweat on your skin start to get sticky so he decides nows a good time to pull apart, his skin peeling off of you and you’re both grimacing when he finally slides out of you, a small gush of his cum dripping out of your entrance and you squeeze your thighs shut at the feeling.

Jungkook wants to sit there and stare at his cum staining your skin but he can tell you feel icky from your face so he stands up from the bed and looks around your room, spotting your towel by your desk. He picks it up and comes back to you. His fingers gently pry open your thighs as he starts to clean you up, tossing the towel aside and motioning for you to move so you can get comfy in bed.

You shuffle around until you slide your comforter down, letting him adjust himself so you both fit comfortably. The small feelings of being tipsy are gone, your muscles completely relaxed and sleep starts to overtake you as you feel him move behind you, his arm lazily draping over you as you both start to slowly fall asleep.

“You know,” he gently speaks up, “you promised me you’d get me laid by the end of October.”

You hum in acknowledgment, and he’s smirking into your hair, “It’s technically November though so.”

You giggle softly at this, turning around in his grasp to face him, your leg slipping in between his as you get closer, “Oh how could I ever make it up to you for breaking my promise.” He lets out a fake gasp as your sarcastic response, his fingers wasting no time coming up to playfully jab at your sides, succeeded in making you squirm and laugh until his lips are kissing you again, the urgency and heat from before missing but he likes this way better.

He likes the small laughs in between kisses, the shy licks of your tongue and sighs you let out and in that moment Jungkook feels content.

Jungkook doesn’t think of whats going to happen tomorrow morning when you both wake up and the initial lust is gone. He doesn’t think of the conversation that’s gonna have to happen once the sun comes up. No he lets himself enjoy this, lets you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. He’ll worry about that when it comes.

#btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #i guess?? v briefly???#new

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seijch · 4 years ago

Text

ANNOUNCEMENT: NOT A HELLO, BUT NOT A GOODBYE EITHER

omg hi ... im like . ashamed to come back after saying brief hiatus in october and then disappearing off the face of the earth til FEBRUARY but under the cut i will be explaining myself and the following, if youre interested (and a tl;dr at the very bottom if you don’t wanna scroll thru this obnoxiously long post):

the reason(s) i was gone for so long

what i was doing during that time (its just a personal account yall can scroll past this idrc)

the status of those um . halloween requests

the future of this account

i. so . Hiatus .

i know. i know . i probably mentioned it when i made the announcement post, but my mental health likes to go on one of those rides. yknow the ones where you go like up rlly fast then down maybe and then up then DOWN .... its like that. i needed a break and every time i wanted to come back or thought about it, something would happen and i would get stuck in my own head.

a big reason for getting stuck in my head was (and i hate to admit this ... i hate to admit that i have Insecurities On The Internet) my feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing. i love to plot fics, i love concepts and characters and making little headcanons but i dont ... know if i love writing rn. and i thought for the longest time that like . whatever ill just push thru it its fine ill be fine but it kinda wasnt lmao you can kinda see it in my halloween reqs and what become of them when i get to that but i began to feel like nothing i had put out or would put out would hold up prose wise (and normally i dont feel like this im much more “idc its my life im living it” but thats not a rant for tumblr LMAO). i still feel like that -- like im better as a reader than a writer. but . You Know :-)

tl;dr: mental state go brrrrr

ii. anywhere here’s wonderwall

when i left, i was in a steadily decreasing mental and emotional state, made worse by a situation at work that really was a case of petty jealousy on my end and rlly isnt very consequential now despite how much pain and resentment it gave me when it Was a problem so i wont get into it. the tl;dr of november and december was me using work as an crutch and distraction -- i know my job, i do it well, it helped me not think about my responsibilities and obligations and inadequacies. of course, as the holiday season grew busier n busier i was scheduled so often that i moved 88 or so miles (according to my apple watch, which i ONLY wear at work since im never anywhere else outside my house) and fell into a cycle of showering n sleeping at my house before going back the next day. (theres definitely something to be said abt capitalism and “grind culture” here but once again its not the time or place snsjkdfds)

at the turn of the new year, i happened to remember a birthday card i hadnt filed away for safekeeping from a friend of mine that id been horribly out of touch with til that point. i started crying because i realized how out of touch id been in general up until that point. the month of january was great for me: i was focused, happy, and in a much better place than i had been before. the end of it brought me down focus wise and im hoping that enough time away from my distractions will refocus me bc i ... need it LMAO and though ive burned out from that level of productivity and gotten distracted again im ... trying to stay positive which i think is the most i can do 😁👍🏼

media wise, i got real into stardew valley (but burned out bc i played it extensively as a way to wind down after work), the pokemon platinum romhack renegade platinum (still havent finished it bc of school n i played it w the intent to see if i could nuzlocke it ... bitch its so hard but its so fun bc of it), briefly assassins creed: odyssey (im one of those ppl who completes an entire region before i move to the next so you can tell i burned out of that one + wouldnt have the time to properly devote to it even if i didnt), got back into genshin impact after pulling for xiao (after not touching it for like . months), and danganronpa. yes . danganronpa 😐 i Know. i stopped playing it after the second trial of the first game bc i was so hurt by the outcome and picked it up in late january only to get sucked in (thank god i had the foresight to buy the second and third games during the steam winter sale). rn im at the start of chapter 4 if anyone wants to come in my asks and um . talk to me abt danganronpa

tl;dr: I’m Into Danganronpa Now

iii. you realize halloween was three months ago right

i mentioned this in the first section, but i love to plot things. every request is plotted or at least has a solid foundation. i had fun detailing what concept i wanted to go with considering what i was given, and there were some bangers i might touch up in the future. but heres whats going to happen to the requests themselves:

there are two finished requests. one will be posted tomorrow and the other will be touched up (just bc i finished it doesnt mean its good 🧍‍♂️) and scheduled for next saturday. as for the ones i never got around to ...

i will not be finishing those requests. i hate to be That Person, but i feel like we all expected this 🧍‍♂️ what i will do is post all of my notes for each request in batches -- requests that have an @ to go with them will be mentioned in the post proper, but anon asks will be pictured. (there are some asks that came from blogs who are now deactivated but i wrote down all the prompts and remember most of those askers so ill cross that bridge when i get there) there will most likely be an excerpt or two simply bc i think i mightve written a few plot points or interactions in the form of bullet points. i rlly am sorry about doing this but i remember looking at my notion doc with all the prompts and feeling ... like i wasnt measuring up n it wasnt just to myself or to some intangible concept of “other” id constructed but it was instead to those who requested n actually WANTED to see and hear and read my writing and i ...... im gonna admit thats another big reason i avoided this site.

regardless, youll definitely get what i have (and likely more than just my bullet points and illegible handwriting).

tl;dr: im sorry. what i have in terms of plot, concept, and interaction for every request will be posted, but i cant say ill ever complete them and mean it.

iv. so what now?

well i mean . im not entirely sure how sold i am on haikyuu in the content creation department (as a creator n to a lesser extent, as a consumer). as mentioned previously, its no longer my primary focus. it doesnt mean im not into haikyuu anymore; i have a lot of love for those boys but i cant rlly say im even caught up w recent fandom activity and also havent even finished s4 pt2 LMAO thats on my to do list

and despite all that, i still want to share my plots n concepts and snippets and maybe even fics. it wont happen anytime soon. it might not even happen. but i mean . its better than me saying i wont write ever again shjdkfs but either way ill probably use this blog as a personal blog w the occasional ask game for dialogue prompts (those are always so fun i love making up aus to fit like . the most mundane prompts)

as for my works (past and any potential future), ive opened an ao3 acc here n ill be editing n possibly expanding on my old works to post there. tumblr, to me, is The x reader hub, but i figure more x reader fics on ao3 is never a bad thing.

ill be deleting/posting drafted posts to the queue since they were all meant to be queued anyway as well as (sorry again 🧍‍♂️) deleting or answering asks in the inbox. (moots if you get a notif from me saying i rbed your post from months ago ... mind your business) im very hard to get ahold of and its ... a problem. expect an overhaul of the nav n shit to reflect my new direction n also because i feel like i cant tell if my passion for carrd is shared by the majority HSDKLFS maybe its better to read my info in a normal post ykwim .......

and of course . if youve read all this n decided im no longer worth the follow, i sure as hell cant stop you. thank you for wanting to, at some point, hear what i have to say -- it means more than you think.

tl;dr: writing will be edited and reposted to ao3, this blog will be a personal blog with a hint of writing (sometimes)

the tl;dr to end all tl;drs:

im back! i wont be as active as i used to due to a lessened interest in haikyuu in general, but i have an ao3 acc now where all my past work will be edited, possibly expanded, and reposted. any future work will also find itself there. my halloween requests will be posted in batches as incomplete concepts, plots, and snippets of scenes; i wont be promising to finish any of them.

there are still fic concepts im attached to and want to finish, but i cant promise any more writing on my end. this blog will be a personal blog with maybe writing, not a writing blog with my personal thoughts all over it.

regardless if you stick around or not, its been crazy sexy cool (equal emphasis) being on haikyuu tumblr even tho i wasnt around for long ... even tho its not my main focus anymore, im still excited to see what the future might hold 🤝

love, ari 💌

#did i have an announcement tag #announcement #also regarding work hsjkdfsd the company i work for didnt give my location the opening for the full time position i wanted #my managers all agree id be promoted if we had it but we dont so i . hee .#anyway um i hope everyones doing well #some of my moots changed urls while i was away and now i have no idea who anyone is #its like when you see your familys friends and theyre like omg youre so big now! i remember when you were a baby and youre like 🧍‍♂️#and you have to play along bc apparently they remember you hskdfsd #im not very funny in this post but i figured id rather be honest considering my lengthy absence #consider this my comeback stage

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pcprminibigbang · 4 years ago

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PCPR Mini Big Bang Fic Claiming Time!

Today’s the daaaaay!

Under the cut, you will find the summaries of the fanfics our Writers have been working on. They have been posted anonymously, labeled only by number.

Artists, go through the summaries carefully and figure out which ones you’d like to work on the most! Please pick three choices and then hop on over to your email to send your fic claiming email to [email protected]! If you are confused as to how this process goes, please check your email inbox for emails Mod has sent concerning the full details on how to claim a fic.

For those not participating in this event, please feel free to read through the summaries as well to get a sneak peek of what our Writers have been working on!

Okay, that’s enough talking from Mod. Here are this event’s fics!!!

FIC #1 : CLAIMED!!!

He shuffles to the door, reaching for his gun just in case before he pulls it open, startling the short man who was waiting on the other side.

"Goddammit, Burger!" Vang0 hisses, leaning a little closer, eyes darting to the sides. "Can I come in?" He asks bluntly, as if they had been talking just a couple minutes ago and this wasn't their first chat in about a week. We're not that codependent.

"Wh- why are you out this late? And with a bag?" He frowns when he sees the uncharacteristic plain green duffle bag hanging from Vang0's shoulder, completely contrasting with the man's clothes, even if this time he went for more subdued colors.

"Let me in and I'll tell you," the blonde retorts as he puts a foot in the corner, ready to push himself inside as soon as Burger gives him room for it.

And Burger can't say no, has never been able to say no to Vang0, so he just rolls to the side and lets Vang0 in before slamming the door closed again.

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate ya visiting, just... it's late and yer carrying a bag," he points out, tilting his head a little. "Y’know you can talk to me, Vang0, right?"

"Y-yeah, that's why I'm here, I-" he pauses, taking a deep breath "I got in trouble, I hacked into something I shouldn't have and I need to lay low for a while"

Vang0 Bang0 messed up, big time, he needs help to get off the radar for a while, and of course that his best friend Burger Chainz would help him, and a road trip seems to be the best way to make him drop from the face of earth until things have quieted down. But the empty roads bring nostalgia and an unearths feelings both of them thought deeply buried. They say that road trips change you, why should that be different in the cyberpunk future?

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, getting together fic, Teen rating, no ao3 warnings needed, maybe some minor canon violence. It's a slightly introspective fic, more focused on how Burger realizes some stuff and how he deals with it.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #2 : CLAIMED!!!

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:15 PM …… did u just ping me to ask if i wore heals

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:16 PM *heels yes i did and do you?

Turtleneck Heathen Today at 8:17 PM not usually?? ill wear em if its like a big thing or w e i guess (Edited) i mean i havnet really had the oprotuntiy to wear em

Badass Business Bitch Today at 8:19 PM are you intentionally misspelling words to make yourself seem cooler to me?? Vang0 I watched you lick a stranger’s nose

Vang0 doesn't remember his birthday. Or his age. Or his interests, his likes, his dislikes, the password to his CollegeBoard account.

(Well, one of those is less important than the others.)

That being said, Burger wants to throw him a birthday party. Dasha is interested, despite herself. A series of assumptions are made, some feelings are hurt, and some lessons are learned.

Ships: Vang0/Dasha/Burger if you squint but pretty much a gen fic

Rating: Probably G, bordering maybe on T for swearing

Sensitive content: Canon-typical amnesia, a little bit of angst, some oblique canon-typical gun mentions, maybe a panic attack later in the fic- I haven't quite decided if that's gonna happen or not yet?

Other info: It's a pretty lighthearted fic focusing on the relationship between the three of them! No AU, pretty much just comedy and fun all the way through. I haven't ironed out all the details of what's going to happen yet, but that's gonna stay pretty consistent- there'll be some angstier/less funny bits here and there, of course, though.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #3 : CLAIMED!!!

Vang0 chewed his lip, feeling uneasy.

“What’s up, friend? You’ve got a big ol’ frown on your face.”

Vang0 blushed. “I’m not- I’m just- thinking. I mean, Joltik usually travel with their mother Galvantula, and it’s unusual for them to be seen without one, so these ones might have been separated from their mother.”

Burger frowned. “Well, that ain’t good.”

Vang0 nodded. “And Galvantula can get very angry when separated from their young.”

Burger opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone yelling loudly.

“BURGER! Burger, where the fuck are you!?”

Vang0 watched as Burger spun around and started towards the basement door.

“Burger!? Are you down here? There’s a huge fucking-”

“No, don’t come down-”

Burger was cut off as the door flew open, and someone catapulted into the basement.

Vang0 stared, eyes wide.

“Burger,” he said, “why the hell is Dapper Dasha in your house?”

Seven months ago, Vang0 woke up in a half-destroyed laboratory with no memories of his life before that. He's made something of a life for himself fixing people's technology, because he somehow knows how to do that really well.

And Burger Chainz is just another one of his clients. That is, until it turns out Burger's hiding ex-Pokemon Contest star Dapper Dasha in his house - who hasn't been seen in two years and just so happens to be Vang0's role model.

Vang0 definitely isn't freaking the fuck out. And he definitely isn't falling in love with Burger, either.

Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. A Pokémon AU where Burger owns a farm, Dasha is an ex-contest star in hiding, and Vang0 has no clue what's going on. Rating: Teen. Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, nothing explicit

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC #4 : CLAIMED!!!

clink!

Vang0 Bang0 jumped in his seat as the van hit a bump in the road, speeding upon the old, graying highway. The trinkets they had collected over their various traveled crashed and banged, one almost hitting the window. The loud trinkets and music blaring from the car stereo didn’t phase Vang0. They weren’t sure where he was going, but it sure wasn’t home.

Vang0 wasn’t focused on the road, he was focused on something...else. It wasn’t the other cars; there weren’t any. Most people stayed in Night City, so the roads weren’t full a lot, he knew that. But this road doesn't have anything, anything that would ever prove that anyone had ever existed near here. Not even a bottle.

After an eventful drive, Vang0 Bang0 finds themself on a beach with no discernable exits. No stairs, no ladders, not even a boat. Confused, Vang0 comes to terms with what he’s found in Night City, and what they’ve lost along the way. (Also they/he pronoun Vang0 rights)

There are no ships in this fic. I am likely to rate it Teen and Up audiences, since while there is no explicit or intentionally upsetting content, it might get a little sad at times. I’m not 100% sure about the exact direction my fic is going to go, there might be a car crash (not to graphically described, Vang0 is not hurt very badly, since this is [spoilers] a dream or metaphor about Vang0 coming to terms with memory loss). And since it is a dream sequence with no clear exit, this may be an unreality situation.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only minor Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 5 : CLAIMED!!!

Upon Burger barging into Dasha’s bedroom and announcing that he got tick- stop screaming Vang0, it’s just me, got tickets to a film festival tonight, are you guys in, Vang0 informed him that they had “a job tonight, Burger, did you even check the zoogle calendar, we’ll go tomorrow or something,” and no, of course Burger hadn’t checked the calendar, that’s Dasha’s job, and sure we can get tickets for tomorrow too but the Winston Rider film is only showing tonight and I thought you guys might be interested -- “Winst- do you mean Winona Ryder?” -- and after about five minutes of schedule comparisons Dasha simply shoved Vang0 out of the bed and declared that she was going to the movie with Burger, Vang0 was finishing their job, and Burger was going to make her some coffee because “it’s too fucking early for this” even though personally, Burger thought 11:00am was a perfectly reasonable time to be awake -- he was probably missing something, or maybe Dasha had just been up late, Vang0 was definitely a blanket hog and Burger knew from experience that sharing a bed with them would be more likely to result in a semi-conscious tug of war than a decent night’s sleep -- so Vang0 got up to do their job and Burger went and made some coffee and Dasha relocated to the couch, where she downed the coffee and some eggs and promptly fell back asleep for another three hours.

Burger loved Dasha, of course he did, he loved spending time with her and he thought she was beautiful and the idea that they might be dating -- might have been dating for a while -- sat warm and comfortable in his chest, but, except, it just was that, he hadn’t realized that how they interacted might be how two people that were dating behaved, he was just hanging out with his friend, he did stuff like this with Vang0 all the ti- -- now wait, wait a second, now hang on just a second --

a.k.a. 5 times Burger missed the point +1 time he caught a clue

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz, Rating: Teen, content warnings for implied violence, drinking, implied sexual content

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

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FIC # 6 : CLAIMED!!!

“What is this? What’s going on? Why am I dressed like I’m straight?” Vang0 hisses, gesturing to everything around him and the wrongness of it all.

“Seriously?” Candella rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “You couldn’t have scheduled your existential work breakdown until after our shift? You don’t see my lesbian ass complaining while I’m on the clock, do you?”

“I—What? Am I speaking another fucking language? You answered none of my questions!”

“Yeah because it’s 9am and the morning rush just ended so I do not have enough energy to indulge just,” Candella gestures at all of Vang0. “whatever is going on with you right now.”

“What’s going on with me right now is that I’ve found myself in a bougie caffeine establishment fever dream that just so happens to have the shittiest store playlist in the history of ever.” Vang0 says, bordering on manic as he looks up at the ancient speaker up in the corner of the shop. “Seriously, what is this terrible song?”

“Hey, Soul Sister by Train.” Candella still, amazingly, does not look alarmed or worried.

Or the one where Vang0 is a barista at Zero and One’s Cafe...except he’s not.

This isn’t his fucking job, this isn’t his fucking life, and it takes a quick look around the horrifyingly low tech coffee shop he’s in and the fact that he’s missing a USB port on his neck to be painfully aware that this isn’t his fucking universe. This is a 2010s over idealistic portrayal of adult mundanity that he and his friends are stuck in and Vang0 has to get them all out of this nightmare before he commits customer service acts of violence.

Bring it on, Coffee Shop AU. Bring. It. On

Dapper Dasha/Vang0 Bang0/Burger Chainz. An absurd existential romantic comedy where the trio somehow get transported into a Coffee Shop AU against their wills. Rating: Teen. Content warnings for slight absurd horror and canon typical violence.

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 7 : CLAIMED!!!

“That guy in my english class,” Dasha could hear through the speakers the distinct sound of combat boots stepping on cement. What was Vang0 doing outside at this time, alone? “The one I told you about! Burger-” “The one you’ve been crushing on for months and you’re too much of a coward to ask out?” Dasha already knew everything about this guy, Vang0 saw him on the first day of senior year in his english class and he hadn’t shut up about him ever since. 5’10, large and muscular shoulders, nice to everyone and just dense enough that everytime he said something you would automatically think “wow… thank fuck you’re attractive,” but not in an irritating way, you know? Vang0 exhaled, which Dasha interpreted as a yes. “Well I couldn’t ask him out even if i wanted to,” “Huh?” Dasha could hear the cogs in her own brain turning, trying to process what was being said to her. “Because he’s dating a blonde g-” she heard Vang0 stop on his steps and his tone becoming more dry, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Dasha yawned audibly and tried sitting up again. This time she succeeded, “yeah, yeah, I’m listenin’. How did you find out about this and why did you decide to call me at nearly 2 am instead of just waiting until tomorrow?” “I followed them and I saw them talking.” “You’ve lost it.” - Dasha received a call from Vang0 at 1:47 am one saturday night, and everything went downhill from there. They were not friends, she couldn’t understand why Vang0 acted like they were, but they weren’t, because Dasha didn’t have any friends. Except that, when she sees Vang0 struggling, for the first time in 18 years of life she decides that maybe this one idiot is worth getting soft over. And so she helps him bleach his hair over a cup of coffee and a can of Spunky Monkey. Because why the fuck not. - Main pairing is platonic Vang0/Dasha, background ship is Vang0/Burger. The whole story is from Dasha’s POV. Genre is just a very typical teen romance story except that it’s focused more on platonic bonding rather than the actual romance. Vang0 calls Dasha late at night, tells her he wants to bleach his long dark curly hair and cut his bangs after seeing Burger with a blonde girl, and he goes to her place. She helps him do the deed in her bathroom (she’s still elite) as they realize how much they care about each other. Initially inspired by that one scene in Scott Pilgrim where Knives Chau dyes her hair. Rating: general audiences, content warnings: lots of swearing, implied addiction/addiction enabling, shoplifting mention. CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 8 : CLAIMED!!!

vang0 officially disappears on march 23rd, 2040. exact time unknown, but whatever conspires that morning takes place before burger wakes up.

if he’s being honest with himself; he’s seen it coming for a little while now. vang0 isn’t the routine type, he’s young and whip smart and drinks so much redbull that the stuff must pump through his veins.

burger’s an old dog. older than vang0 by at least 2 years, he’s sure. he doesn’t have much, and god doesn’t that sound cliche, but he’s stupid and optimistic- and really. he must’ve known somewhere that the kid wouldn’t stay. he’s got a nasty drug habit that burger cant support and a look in his eyes like he wants the world- burger cant even buy him a fake ID.

this happens sometimes, the coming and going. vang0’ll disappear for a week if he’s lucky, a month if he’s not, but never longer than that.

no use crying over spilled milk.

vang0 goes missing, burger velmently pretends nothing is wrong until he doesnt, and dasha has to pick up the pieces.

missing person fic, burger/dasha/vang0 implied, but nothing explicitly mentioned or talked about, drug use mentioned, mature, canon typical violence, kidnapping, and other canon typical shit- it is night city after all lmao, kind of introspective, alot of burger just thinking back on his relationship w vang0 and shit, but there is some plot as well ig

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: None

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FIC # 9: CLAIMED!!!

“Anyway, dude, what’s up? Or did you just come over for a cola because you ran out of your own?”

“Oh, right,” Vang0 says. He is still thinking about the man, and Dasha, and Dasha and that man, and Dasha’s long fingers and Dasha’s hair falling over her face as she purses her lips and blows upwards, her breath scattering strands of brown hair around her sharp cheekbones. “Um, there was something on the forum, I think - I think there’s a thing. For us. Should we call Burger?”

“Oh, Burger’s here,” Dasha says. “Somewhere. Burger!” she yells.

“Burger - but he spent the night?” Vang0 says, brain processing too slow somehow.

Dasha doesn’t respond.

“Did you -”

“Have a threesome?” Dasha asks, in her usual blunt way. Her face is pretty expressionless, eyes severe under the liner and blinking less than a person should, but Vang0 knows her pretty well, he can see the corners of her mouth turning up. That means she thinks something is funny. “I don’t think so. Burg!” she calls over her shoulder. “Did we?”

When Vang0 sees a JumpTrash post about vandalism at a club down town, he figures it will be an easy job for the trio - find out who did it, have Burger intimidate them, done. But things are more complicated than they seem, and the gang ends up drawn into a complex scheme involving the Brotherhood of the Screaming Abyss, conspiracies and hit men, and people from their past they thought were long gone. Along the way, they'll have to decide what they want out of this job - and what they want from each other....

This is basically an elaborate CAPER, with a bunch of feelings and shit thrown in. It's a job and then it's a crime story! Its kind of a noir? Can I write a noir? WE"LL FIND OUT. It's gonna be fairly long assuming I can get my act together and put in all i want to put in. Like every good story, it's got plot and whatnot but the plot is just a fulcrum around which to wrap some found family polyamory shit, baby. It's Vang0/Dasha/Burger, duh and it takes them a minute to get there but they'll get there! Its gonna have canon-typical violence, basically - none of the trio die or anything, but other people do, and there's blood. There's gonna be a sex scene because I'm not an AMATEUR. Drug use, too, but mostly in happy fun ways. I haven't fully sussed out some of the flashbacks, but probably some oblique references to past traumas, probably Vang0. Nothing explicit, no reliving events or anything. Also i'm 1000 years old, be warned!

CLAIMING RESTRICTIONS: Only adult Artists can claim this fic.

#polygon #polygon cyberpunk red #pcpr

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zwritestuff · 4 years ago

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Two) - Kyara

A/N: Kiara is twenty-two today, and what a better way to celebrate than with a new chapter? I’m very much in love with this fic, and a third chapter should be on the way. Hope you enjoy this one though! It didn’t turn out according to my plan, but oh well. Shit happens.

Read on ao3 too!

***

If Kiara is completely honest, she has no idea why she started “hiding” at Kyne’s office in the first place.

Well, maybe she does have some sort of idea; she was mad at Wilbur, that one bitch of a CEO her father was — is, sadly — great friends with, for having completely dismissed her when she tried to express her opinions during a meeting, and spoke down to her as if she was a little kid and not an adult.

She had left the meeting seeing red, and the fact Lena was all over her, reminding her of all the things she had to do and blurting out message after message didn’t help. Kiara understood that it was just her job, but god damn it, Lena couldn’t understand simple hints for the sake of her life. So, before she undeservingly snapped at her secretary, she came up with a half-assed excuse to leave her office; she just needed to wander around to calm herself down.

Her first thought was to come to Rita, because she always knew what to say and how to calm her down, and Rita’s secretary, Tynomi, was probably the bluntest, funniest woman in the entire company. They always managed to cheer her up. Unfortunately, Rita had yet another meeting — Kiara swore she was the only CEO besides her that actually did her job.

She was wandering around the offices of the accountants when she saw Kyne’s door; Kyne had something that pulled Kiara like a magnet, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. Maybe it was the fact she made her laugh within a minute of meeting each other, or that every time she came to pick up or drop off some reports, she always managed to, at least, get a giggle out of her. And god knew she needed a laugh now.

So she knocked on an impulse she would later be grateful for.

Kyne was totally entitled to not want to listen to her problems or to kick her out (which she wouldn’t do, because everyone was afraid of her, apparently), but she let her stay, and offered her as much of her attention as she could, considering she still had work to do. And she even gave her advice — well, of sorts.

“I mean, you’re the boss of the boss of my boss; if anything, you could just tell her to chill or you’ll fire her. That should calm her,” she had said, placing her chin in her palm, her voice coming out as monotonous, though Kiara distinguished a playful gleam in her eyes. A giggle came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“I would, but I’m not that mean — and she’d tell my dad, anyway.” She shrugged, slightly rolling her eyes. She heard Kyne chuckle, and her heart skipped a beat. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I have to go, I have a meeting to attend, but thank you for letting me hide here.” She winked at her out of yet another impulse, but Kyne didn’t seem to mind, since she smiled at her in a way that knocked the air out of her lungs.

Okay, that was weird, Kiara thought.

“You’re welcome to hide here any time, miss Schatzi,” Kyne said, with that pretty smile still on her face. Kiara turned to see her, grabbing the handle of the door for dear life.

“You know what? Just call me Kiara.” She smiled bashfully and left, walking back to her office as fast as her heels allowed her.

She had shut the door in front of Lena’s face when she wouldn’t stop asking where she went, and had silently resolved that she wouldn’t go back to Kyne’s office unless it was for the sake of her job.

Kiara was also a pathological liar.

She came back one, two, three, who knows how many times, again. She’s not sure, but she knows it was enough for it to become a habit. Sometimes she’d also bring some sort of sweet so Kyne wouldn’t think of her as such a burden. Kiara knew she would get annoyed of her visits at some point, but that had yet to happen, and she was glad for it.

But their almost daily meetings hadn’t escaped the eye of the other employees, much to Kiara’s annoyance.

After setting the record straight with Lena and asking her to be a little less suffocating, they had managed to struck up a friendly relationship, built on the fact that Kiara asked her to be as blunt as possible with her, and in exchange she was honest with her when she went to visit Kyne in the middle of work hours. So it didn’t surprise Kiara when Lena had told her without hesitation that a good chunk of the employees thought she was sleeping with Kyne.

While Lena being blunt with her wasn’t that out of the common — her employees thinking she was sleeping with Kyne? That sure was a hell of a shock.

“You commit a mistake once and people vow to not forget it ever again,” she had grumbled once Lena was done telling her all about the gossip surrounding her and Kyne.

Lena cocked one of her perfectly painted eyebrows, intently staring at her. “Come again?”

Kiara quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Nothing.”

She tried to not pay attention to what the people said about her — in fact, she was great at it — because she shouldn’t pay any mind to cheap office gossip. So Kiara went on with her life, without letting the rumors stop her from visiting Kyne.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the rumors reached her father.

Kiara’s father is a lovely man, he accepts her for who she is and always seeks out for her wellbeing. Though he makes misplaced comments more often than not, he never does it with ill-intent — oh, and there’s also the fact that he tried to turn Kiara into the son he never had, and when she came out he thought it was his fault that she was a lesbian. She finds it funny now, though she can’t say it was funny at that moment.

And because he cares about her, he’s always asking if she has had any dates recently, or if she’s going out with anyone at the company. It’s safe to say that when one of his friends came to him with the gossip about his own daughter, he got excited rather than offended.

“Am I going to meet your girlfriend at the ball next weekend?” He asks over dinner, and Kiara nearly chokes with her lasagna.

Now that’s why he wanted to have dinner out with her; he usually stays late at work, and Kiara ends up eating dinner with her mom and their three dogs.

Kiara swallows her lasagna and coughs a little before speaking. “Girlfriend? What do you mean?” She squints, tilting her head a little. She knows he’s talking about Kyne, but she prefers to play dumb.

Her father gives her a complicit smile, the kind he’d give her when she was little and they had gotten mud on their clothes after Kiara’s mom told them to not get dirty. She hasn’t seen that smile in years.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, pumpkin. I’m glad you’re seeing someone! You’re young, you should enjoy your life.” He sounds so supportive and happy, that Kiara can’t bring herself to tell him it’s all just a huge misunderstanding.

So Kiara decides to bite the bullet and tell her dad she’s dating one of the accountants of the company, and the proud smile on his face makes it more difficult to lie to him. But at the same time, it isn’t hard to list off all the things she likes about Kyne, because she does like her — as a friend, clearly, but her dad doesn’t have to know that.

He promises her he’ll get Kyne on the guest list of the charity ball, so she can properly introduce her to him and her mother, as well as their friends. Though Kiara nods and thanks him with a huge smile that she hopes doesn’t look forced, her hands are sweating and she knows right away that the first thing she’ll have to do tomorrow morning is talk with Kyne.

***

It’s Wednesday morning, and Kiara buys a cup of coffee and a bagel on her way to work, because she knows what she’s about to ask Kyne will probably make her hate her guts. She wouldn’t blame her.

Surprisingly, it goes far better than she expected. Kyne says yes, in her very Kyne-like way. And Kiara can’t believe it. What surprises her more is the fact Kyne seemingly had no idea about these rumors; if Kiara is lucky, she has no idea about what people said about her even before she started working full-time at the company.

She promises to take her shopping for a dress and leaves her office with her heart plummeting in her ears, the sight of Kyne’s flustered expression ingrained in her brain.

Kiara goes back to her office, walking past Lena and asking her to pretty please get Kyne’s phone number from the company’s records. Kiara notices she’s curious, but Lena doesn’t ask why she wants it or how she doesn’t have it, considering she spends almost every day with her; she just cocks a brow her way and replies with a polite yes ma’am.

She tries to get her job done, to answer the e-mails still pending in her inbox and call back all the people she has to call back, but the only thing on her mind is Kyne. She’s not sure if it’s the guilt of having dragged her, or the impatience for Friday to arrive bubbling up in her stomach, but as soon as it’s time for lunch she sprints off to Rita’s office.

Rita always knows what to say, and right now, Kiara needs someone to tell her this isn’t an incredibly bad idea, even though that would be a lie.

Before she notices she’s knocking on her door and finds Rita along with Tynomi, who greet her with a wide smile.

“Hey Kiki, we were just heading out, wanna go have lunch with us?” Rita asks with a smile, but Kiara shakes her head no.

“I’m fine, thanks. But I could use your help with something,” she says, fidgeting with her fingers. Rita motions at her to take a seat, as she sits back on her chair and Tynomi perches herself against the desk.

Kiara tries to sum up the mess she had gotten herself into, and she can’t blame them when they try to hold back laughs by biting their lower lips and squeezing each other’s wrist.

“So now I need someone to tell me this isn’t a catastrophically bad idea, and that we won’t get caught lying at the ball,” Kiara dramatizes, and Rita snorts, exchanging a brief look with Tynomi before speaking.

“Poussin, you leave me speechless. You could’ve just told your dad it was a misunderstanding,” Rita says with a shrug and Kiara groans, folding her arms.

“Kyne said exactly the same thing — it’s not that easy!” She protests childishly, and the older women laugh at her expense. Kiara wants to be pissed, but she’d also laugh at herself, honestly.

“I mean, it’s a bad idea depending of the way you look at it,” Tynomi says, “You can either be the laughing stock if people find out you’re faking a relationship with this woman, or, you can win an actual girlfriend. Depends how you play your cards,” she explains, as if it’s that easy. Rita hums in agreement, and Kiara rolls her eyes.

“I don’t like Kyne like that.” It’s the first thing she says, sounding more defensive that she intended to. “I just don’t know how to go about this. I enjoy Kyne’s friendship a lot, and I don’t wanna lose it if we fuck this up,” she admits bashfully, and their expressions soften up.

“Then I think you should be talking things out with her, not us,” Rita says, with that motherly tone she always uses when she knows she’s right, and Kiara knows there’s no use fighting her logic.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen? She’ll break up with you?” Tynomi jokes, earning a laugh from them.

“If I run, I think I can get to her before lunch finishes…” She mumbles absent-mindedly, standing up and heading to the door. “Thank you, girls. See you later!” Kiara gives them a grateful smile and a wave before she leaves.

“Be careful running with those heels!” Rita exclaims as she’s closing the door.

Kiara walks as fast as she can through the hallways, trying not to trip with her own feet. She anxiously looks around, searching for Kyne’s purple jacket — God bless Kyne for always wearing jackets with unconventional colors to work.

She hears a ping and pulls out her phone, smiling when she sees a message from Lena with a contact attached. Her message reads that she’s sorry for the delay, but she got distracted by someone — Kiara has an eerie feeling that said someone is a woman from the architect team, but she just replies with a thank you.

She turns in a corner, ending up in the hallway of Kyne’s office. Kiara smiles when she sees Kyne’s purple jacket at the end of the hallway, walking away with her friends.

“Kyne!” She exclaims, ignoring the ache in her feet as she trotters towards her. Kyne turns around, looking at Kiara with a flustered expression. Her friends turn around too, but their faces read nothing but pure mischief. “Wait up, I was looking for you.”

“Me? Why?” She asks once Kiara is near enough. Her brows are knitted in a frown, stealing glances at her friends, who have their attention focused on Kiara.

Kiara shakes off the nerves, sucks in a breath and smiles at Kyne, hoping that she goes with the flow. “Well, we’re going to have lunch together, aren’t we?” She bites her lower lip, hiding her sweaty palms behind her back.

Kyne squints. “We’re— oh!” She blinks repeatedly as she catches what’s going on. “Oh, yeah, we are. Sorry guys, I forgot. Go on without me.” She gives them a bashful look as she ushers them, and the one Kiara recognizes as Priyanka from the architect team snorts as she drags the other two women with her.

Once they’re alone, they stare at each other awkwardly, until Kyne speaks again.

“Uh, mind telling me what this is all about?” She asks, fidgeting with the ring in her index finger. Kiara bites the inside of her lip, with her hands still behind her back.

“We’re going to have lunch?” She replied, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Kyne cocks a sly brow, and Kiara groans. “Okay, fine, this is very last minute, but hear me out.” Kiara takes a few steps closer, face inches away from Kyne’s. She tries to not get distracted by the rosy undertone in Kyne’s cheeks. “I know we spend almost every day together, but when you think about it, we don’t know much about each other, and couples are supposed to know each other to every little detail. If someone finds out that this is a lie, it’ll probably be because of our lack of knowledge about each other – and lord knows I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the company.”

“Why would you be the laughing stock of the company?” Is the only thing that Kyne questions from her logic, tilting her head to the side as she furrows her brow. Perhaps it’s just Kiara’s mind, but she could swear she felt a tinge of defensiveness in her tone.

“Imagine how embarrassing it’d be if the daughter of the owner was caught faking a relationship? A lot of people already think I’m a hoe that sleeps around; I’m sure this would be deemed pathetic instead of debunking my reputation,” she explains with an eye roll. Kyne’s expression softens up, and she gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I know this great place some streets away, if you don’t mind walking in heels,” Kyne offers, and Kiara smiles widely.

They get to really know each other beyond what co-workers do they hate and how much they dread Sandy the secretary of the front desk over pumpkin pie and sorrentinos; Kiara learns that Kyne knows how to play the flute traversière since she was a teen, knows how to sew and is fluent in Tagalog.

She offers Kiara to teach her some insults, and between laughs she replies that she’ll teach her French insults in exchange. In the back of her mind, Kiara thinks this might just work.

#some things are bound to be fic #kyara #kyne #online kyne #kiara schatzi #rita baga #tynomi banks #my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction

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johannstutt413 · 4 years ago

Text

(requested by e-ven-eve)

“Just one more.” The Doctor, hands cramping and head spinning, had been staring at his computer monitor for over five hours straight now, more if you didn’t count the five-minute break he’d taken to down a microwave burrito. “This is the last one for the day, and then...and then I can go home.” As his fingers fell upon the keyboard in a hailstorm of keystrokes, his mind ascending to an almost hallucinogenic zen state of empty-headedness (not unlike Skadi during combat), he knew with absolute certainty this was his limit. He finished the paragraph, clicked through the menus to save the file, and flung himself backwards in his chair, away from his keyboard...as another report hit his inbox. Physically ill at the thought of typing another, he grabbed his coat, staggered out the door without putting it on, and went home.

Crossing the threshold of his apartment, he flung his coat over his couch, and then quickly followed it, rolling over the side and landing back-first with a groan. Could he really keep doing this? He enjoyed the company of the people he worked with, but this was...this wasn’t healthy, having to work to the bone every day like this. But what could he do? Maybe...was there someone who’d be free to act as his assistant? “Amiya...I should ask Amiya tomorrow...uuuuuuhhhh.” Losing consciousness, visions of Chimera Cautus flashed across his eyes. That cute little bunny-girl would make a great assistant, but she must be too busy to help him, right? The idea was silly…

It didn’t stop the dream, though - an idyllic work day with both bearing an equal workload, making idle conversation as they typed, taking lunch together...maybe dinner, if he could work up the nerve to ask her...he could almost hear her voice now, even.

“Doctor?” Her hand was on his head. “You have a fever...Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’m going to make you some soup, okay?”

“Thank you,” he croaked. Come to think of it, he had been feeling under the weather lately; even in his wildest dreams, he was sick and tired. Heh. Art imitates life, he supposed.

The microwave beeped a few minutes later, and now that he could see the ceiling of his apartment again, he saw her as well - that angelic creature who called herself Amiya, bowl of soup and spoon in her hands as she returned. She blew on a spoonful and fed it to him, and it felt so real. Also, it tasted delicious. Had chicken noodle soup always been this good, and he just hadn’t had a chance to open a can and find out? Hard to say, but in any case, it sure was nice to see her. Oh, she was talking to him. “...so don’t go to your office tomorrow, okay? I’ll let Kal’tsit know you’re taking a sick day.”

“Thank you, dear.” They were close enough by this point in the dream cycle, certainly. “You’re so good to me.”

“Oh, you poor thing...” She blushed as he spoke - how cute! Even after weeks and weeks together, she still reacted like- hang on, how long had it been? Surely, there was a calendar somewhere…

No, there wouldn’t be; he didn’t have any dates to keep track of, so he’d never gotten one. His phone probably had one, though. “Amiya, do you know where I put my phone?”

“Don’t worry about that.” More soup - still delicious. “Go to sleep, Doctor...darling.”

“Mmmmmkay...Could you...” No, even for a dream, that was pushing it-

She set the bowl aside and leaned closer, her head, sideways, taking up the majority of his vision. “What do you need?”

“...Will you...nap with me?” He shivered. “It’s so cold.”

“I’ll get us a blanket.” Amiya unhooked his mask and set it on the other side of the table from the soup before standing up. She walked around for a minute, looking for a blanket - so silly, she ought to know by now - before finding one. Once she did, she brought it back to the couch, found a way to settle with him on the couch without falling off or pushing him off, and covered them both with the warmth. The Doctor smiled and closed his eyes-

Wait. He opened them, and sure enough...it wasn’t a dream after all. “Amiya? Could you pinch me?”

“Why would I do that?” She adjusted so she could brush his cheek. “You should get some sleep, Doctor.”

“But...but I thought I was dreaming. I...We...” Nope, too much thinking. He could feel himself shutting down again.

Amiya simply patted his chest. “We can talk tomorrow. Right now, you need to sleep.”

“I guess...” The Doctor lifted his head off the couch. “The bed is bigger, though.”

“Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

He nodded. “Please.”

“Okay.” She gently moved off of him - which sent him shivering again - and helped him to his feet. “This way, Doctor.”

“I’m sorry I called you ‘dear,’” he mumbled over the span of the forty steps it took to get from the couch to the threshold.

Amiya squeezed his hand as she walked him to his bed. “I don’t mind. Do you want me to stay?”

“Um...” The Doctor looked blurry-eyed at his bed. “I...yes?”

“Here. Left hand first.” She moved the covers and helped him crawl under them before watching him for a moment, standing at the side of his bed, wavering in her own resolve. She’d come this far, and even if it hadn’t been her plan, it...he was so gentle, and fragile, not unlike she used to be before...before-

He held out his arms to her. “Amiya.” Did he have to sound so cute when he said it? Now, it wasn’t even a choice for her next move.

“I’m coming.” She crawled over his feet and around to his side, slipping under the sheets to rest her head on his chest with a smile. “Now are you going to go to sleep?”

“I’ll try...I’m already in a dream, but I’ll try.” The Doctor threaded an arm around her back to stroke her hair, and after reassuring himself she was really there, he let unconsciousness take him again.

He couldn’t say how long he was asleep, but the next time he woke up, Amiya’s forehead was set against his. She smiled. “Your fever’s weaker than last night.”

“That’s good.” He didn’t dare close his eyes again, lest she disappear by dream logic. “Thank you for taking care of me. I...I didn’t know how bad I’d gotten.”

“You didn’t get bad, Doctor; you got sick. We’ll have you on your feet again once you’re really feeling better, and I won’t leave your side until then.”

The Doctor sniffled. “You um...you don’t have to leave then, Amiya...I was wondering if you could be my assistant.”

“You were?” She handed him a tissue so he could blow his nose, which he did. “But...”

“If you can’t, that’s okay-”

Amiya shook her head. “No, I want to, it’s just...Before you lost your memory, you said I couldn’t.”

“...Why?”

“You wouldn’t say.” She put on a smile. “But if you say I can stay by your side, I won’t say no.”

He sighed in relief. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“But I worry a lot.” The Doctor felt his head split open. “Owww.”

Amiya kissed his forehead. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”

“Thank you...dear.”

“I’ll be right back.” She hesitated before kissing his forehead again and walking off to find him some aspirin. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He watched her leave with a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#arknights #amiya (arknights)#y'all the archive's tag counts are a trip for me #like #amiya texas and silverash are tied for most stories #like WHAT #and i thought there were more Hoshi stories than there are apparently #it's so weird #anyway more amiya x doc b/c honestly i just wanna cuddle this bunny #she deserves it #arknights fic

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p-artsypants · 5 years ago

Text

Longest Night (31)

Ao3 | FF.net

She awoke. The room was dim, and just the right amount of warm. Her throat felt dry and her limbs weak. She didn’t know if she had the energy to speak.

“Emilie?” A woman’s soft voice asked.

“Hmm?” She hummed back.

A hand fell on hers. “Good to see you awake. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“How…long?”

“Four years.”

She blinked more, trying to clear the haze on her mind.

“Shh, keep resting. You’re still very weak.”

“Where…?”

“We’re in Tibet, in the temple of the Guardians.”

“Temple…?”

The woman, now recognized as Gabriel’s secretary Nathalie, chuckled softly. “Go back to sleep. I’ll catch you up later.”

“Where’s…my husband? And Adrien?”

“Gabriel’s in Paris and…we’re not sure where Adrien is…that’s why Gabriel’s not here.”

Emilie pushed up on the mattress. “Adrien’s missing?! Why!?”

“Shh…” Nathalie pushed her back down by the shoulder. “Please Emilie, don’t strain yourself.”

“Well, I’m wide awake now, so you better get explaining!”

Nathalie rolled her eyes. “Will you relax if I do?”

“…Yes ma’am.”

“Alright…well. It started about a year after you fell asleep…”

—

Everything happened in a whirlwind of action. Everyone wanted to know what was happening, and wanted to be a part of helping. The Gorilla got a police escort to the hospital, driving Alya and Gabriel, while Nino volunteered to stay behind and lock up. News vans followed the ambulance and car. Traffic stopped and pulled over as the cars zoomed through the city.

At the hospital, Marinette and Adrien were unloaded and rushed into surgery. Sabine, still transformed, and Tom were escorted to a private waiting room.

And then, silence.

All the rushing and shouting, it stopped.

Sabine stood in the room, trembling.

“I believe the phrase was ‘spots off’, darling.” Tom said softly.

“Hm? Oh, Spots Off.” The whirlwind pink disappeared just as it came, and Tikki appeared in front of her, barely staying afloat.

“Madam Cheng?” She asked weakly.

“What is it, dear?”

“Um…I’m really hungry from the cure…do you have any cookies?”

Sabine gave her a sympathetic smile. “So you’re the little mouse that steals my cookies at night.”

Tikki smiled sheepishly.

“I don’t have any on me right now, but lets see what’s in this vending machine.”

Tikki settled for a bag of mini chocolate chip cookies and took her meal to eat on a chair.

Not much later, Gabriel, the Gorilla, and Alya were escorted into the room by a nurse.

“They got in alright?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes, they got right in. They didn’t even ask Tom and I for any medical information.”

“Ah, yes, that would be my doing.”

Tom and Sabine shared a look. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel thought for a second, then admitted, “I could have sworn I already told you, but perhaps in the rush of things, I forgot to mention it. I apologize. Do you remember a few weeks ago when I asked if you had packed up your medical files with your belongings?”

“Oh! Yes, you asked for Marinette’s!”

“Yes, this hospital has assembled a specific team of specialists to prepare for them. They studied the stream and have everything they need to get started right away.”

“Wow, that’s smart!” Commented Alya. “Was that your idea, Mr. Agreste?”

“I wish, but no. It was Dr. Ernest Boucher, an akuma victim who wanted to pay off his debt. We’ve taken care of everything. The bill is squared. You only have to worry about Marinette.”

Sabine let out a sob. “Thank you!”

Gabriel tried to smile, but it fell flat. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not worthy of gratitude.”

At that, Tikki looked over to him, aware that she was exposed to the parents, but not really noticing it until now.

Alya knelt on the floor next to her chair. “Hi there, I’m Alya.” She introduced.

“Oh, I know.” Tikki said with a smile. “I’m well acquainted with you. So is Trixx.”

At the name, Trixx popped out of Alya’s shirt. “Heya Tik!”

“Hi Trixx!”

The fox floated down and joined Tikki on the chair. “Wayzz is with Nino and Pollen is with Chloe.”

“Nino should be here soon,” Alya provided. “He stayed behind to make sure everything was locked up at the bakery. Don’t want reporters getting in there after all.”

The door to the waiting room opened, a police officer entering. “Captain David Phillips,” he introduced with a bob of the head. “I’m in charge of security for your children during their stay here.”

Sabine breathed, another worry dissuaded. “Oh thank you!”

“Of course, Mrs. Cheng. There will be officers posted at each of their rooms. All staff working with them have already gone through background checks, and have been picked by Dr. Ernst Boucher to work on his team. If I may, I would like to write up a list of people with clearance to visit. My recommendation is that you keep the list short. It is likely the team won’t allow any guests besides immediate family in the beginning.”

“Right.”

He took out a notebook. “Of course, I have Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, and Gabriel Agreste on the list. Anyone else I should add?”

“Alya Cesaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Sabine stated. “And Roland and Gina Dupain.”

“Arthur Chevalier and Chloe Bourgeois.” Added Gabriel. “But not the mayor. I’d rather he stay away.”

The chief nodded, noting this all down. “Anyone else?”

“Oh! And Wang Fu.” Said Sabine.

“Alright. Anyone else?”

“Not at this time.”

“Alright. Just let me know if you need to edit the list. My men have strict instructions not to allow anyone in who does not have clearance. We are also keeping an eye out on both of your homes.”

“Thank you, Captain Phillips.”

“My pleasure. I’ll leave you alone now.” And he left.

The Gorilla took a chair and gestured a thumb to the door, indicating he would wait outside.

“Thank you, Arthur.” Gabriel breathed.

Sabine collapsed into a chair next to Tikki, her hand resting on her face.

“Are you alright?” Tikki asked softly.

“I’m fine, dear. Just a little migraine.”

Tikki floated up and pressed her forehead to Sabine’s humming slightly. “Did that help?”

“Y-yes. It’s gone!”

Tikki smiled. “It’s not much, but I aid healing. You should give the earrings back to Marinette as soon as you can.”

“I was planning on it.”

Gabriel smirked at the conversation, and took a seat as well. There wasn’t much else to do but sit and wait. He took out his phone and checked his email. It wasn’t likely that he’d hear back from Nathalie on a constant basis. The Temple was out of cellular rage, and was still in the past as far as technology went. In order to send an email, she would have to hike down to the village. And that required her to be healed.

So it was to his great surprise that an email from Nathalie awaited him in his inbox.

Gabriel,

The Miraculous Guardians have been successful. I am writing this email on my first full hike down to the village with the monks. I’m feeling much better. Maybe the best I’ve felt in my life.

Emilie woke up yesterday evening. I told her a little bit of what’s happened while she’s been asleep. So far, she knows that you used the butterfly Miraculous to try to get a hold of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous in order to wake her up. She fell back asleep after that. She doesn’t know Adrien was the Black Cat. She knows that Adrien is missing, but I didn’t get that far into the explanation. I also did not tell her that you are considered a villain in Paris.

She is very weak, but the guardians assure me that she’ll make a full recovery. It may be a few weeks still. I will stay with her until she is ready to go home.

On a more professional note, I would like to take some time off after this. Nothing against you or Emilie, but my heart is in a dangerous place in regards to you. I need some time to put aside my feelings. I will return to work with you eventually.

Please feel free to email me back. I will return to the village tomorrow, as I have been assured that it is good for my health.

I am eager to hear how things are going with the investigation of Marinette and Adrien.

Cordially,

Nathalie Sancoeur

A smile graced his face as relief flooded through him. Tears came to his eyes, but he blinked them away before anyone would notice.

Emilie was awake!

And Nathalie was better!

And now, just to wait for Adrien. And Marinette too, of course. But mostly Adrien.

Rereading the email, a sinking feeling settled on his stomach. How was he suppose to explain his actions to Emilie? He certainly couldn’t lie to make it seem less horrible than it was.

He was definitely regretting some of his desperation.

“Oh yes darling, I am a terrorist and our son was fighting day and night to defeat me. Because of my actions, Adrien was picked to be a hero, and subsequently got kidnapped and tortured. But he’s fine now.”

Yeah, that sounded like a sane man.

Dear Nathalie,

Thank you for emailing me so promptly. I’m overjoyed to hear that you are doing better and that Emilie is finally awake. Thank you for being brief with her about the situation. I would like to explain more of it to her in person. I believe she deserves to hear it from me at least.

I will approve your time off when the time comes. Take as long as you need, you’ve certainly earned it.

I must apologize, Nathalie. I know I took advantage of you. No other employee would have gone above and beyond the call of duty. You became ill because of my actions, and that’s something I can’t apologize enough for. Furthermore, I think it would be wise for us to part ways for a while. I know you have a special place in my heart as well, and that’s not fair to you with Emilie waking up. I desperately love my wife. And I love you too, but in a different way. As my colleague, my confident, my friend. Thank you for all you have done. For raising our son for us, for managing the company, for Mayura. All of it.

You are forever welcome in our home, whatever you choose to do.

What more, I know Adrien has high regards of you. And he will be missing you turning his recovery. That’s right, they’ve been found! Both Marinette and Adrien are in grave shape though. I’m writing this from the hospital. I’ll tell you everything later.

Enjoy Tibet.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

And he sent it.

What came next, who could tell? His emotions straddled somewhere in limbo between anxious and optimistic. Looking around to the various states of worry in the room, he decided he didn’t belong with them. So he stood, and walked out, not offering a word to anyone as to where he was going.

He wasn’t quite sure where that was either.

He passed Nino in the hall, who gave him a questioning look.

“Coffee,” he responded automatically, giving himself an excuse.

“I’ll come along.” Said the teenager, squashing his hopes to be alone.

But he didn’t blame Nino. He wouldn’t trust himself alone either. For a while, they walked in silence, riding the elevator down to the first floor without a word.

It was evening now, dinner time for most folks. But neither Gabriel or Nino found themselves to be hungry in any capacity. There was a small cafe within the food court open, with a short line. The men stood next to each other, lost in their own thoughts.

“Your arm healed with the cure, right?” Nino suddenly asked, quiet so others wouldn’t overhear.

“Yes. The stitches are gone and everything.”

They stepped up and made their order. Gabriel ordered a black coffee for himself, while Nino ordered specific drinks for everyone else.

“That’ll be 24.86.” Said the cashier.

Gabriel handed over his card. “I’ll take care of it.”

Nino smirked as they went to sit at a nearby table to wait for their order.

“Sorry…” Nino began. “I didn’t mean to tag along if you needed a minute, I just…”

“It’s fine,” Gabriel stated, fiddling with a salt shaker on the table. “I’m the enemy after all, I should be watched at all times.”

“That’s not what I meant…your son is…he’s in the hospital and the future is uncertain. I’m just worried about you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need your concern.” He said, a little harshly.

Nino sighed. “Adrien told me…after you lost your wife, you became a lot colder. No offense, but I’m worried for you for Adrien’s sake.”

Gabriel took a moment to relax his hunched shoulders and exhale slowly. He was way too tense, and that wasn’t good for anyone. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been a few years now, but I treated you unfairly the first time we met. I called you something unsavory, when all you were trying to do was make Adrien happy. That’s all you’ve ever tried to do. Thank you for ignoring my wishes and continuing to be his friend.”

Nino actually smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it dude—er, sir. Besides, you let me DJ that one fashion show. That was super cool!”

“You did a fine job. I’ll let you know if any more opportunities arise.”

“Thanks dude!”

Gabriel smirked. “You’re welcome…dude.”

Nino erupted in violent laughter, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Forget I said anything.” Gabriel said flatly.

“Agreste!” Called the Barista.

The boys gathered their drinks and returned to the waiting room, still in silence, but a lighter feeling than before.

In the waiting room, Nino set the drinks on the little table and confessed he just picked out six drinks that looked interesting. One for each person, and one for the kwami’s to share.

Gabriel sat against a wall, watching the exchange while sipping on his black coffee. It felt awkward, as the elephant in the room sat between him and all these kind people. He rubbed his thumb over his ring finger, a force of habit from when he wore a wedding ring. His had been taken by Felix, so he wore Emilie’s for a while. But when she was taken to Tibet, he gave it back. Now he longed to have something to fidget with.

He reached into his pocket, immediately feeling the cool metal of Adrien’s Miraculous.

He had forgotten he picked it up. He just assumed his pocket was a safer place for it than Marinette’s bedroom. He took it out, resting the ring on his palm. It looked and felt like any other ring. He turned it over with his fingers, studying the design before it flashed green.

Plagg rocketed out, awake. “Adrien!” He shouted.

Well, if anyone was unaware of Chat Noir’s identity, he just blew it. But luckily, that wasn’t a problem in this room.

Plagg spun around, his eyes frantic. This was not the last place he was awake. The last thing he saw was that woman and she took off the ring—

He turned around, facing Gabriel, and saw the ring in his hand.

“Why do you have that?” He asked darkly.

“I—…” Gabriel gaped.

“That doesn’t belong to you! Give it back! That’s my kitten’s!” He shouted.

“Plagg…” Tikki tried to calm him down.

“Where is he?! What did you do to him!?”

Gabriel raise his hands in a pacifying nature. “Adrien’s in surgery.”

“Surgery!?! What did you do to him?!”

“He didn’t do anything, Plagg!” Tikki shook him. “It was that woman! That woman that stole the Miraculous! She hurt Marinette too!”

And then Nooroo peeked ever so slightly out of Gabriel’s pocket.

All hell broke loose.

“You!” Plagg grabbed Gabriel’s shirt, and yanked him to stand. “You disgusting piece of filth! Give me one good reason not to kill you this second!”

“Plagg!” Tikki grabbed him and tried to force the fabric from his paws. “Let him go!”

“You monster! Do you know how many nights I had to comfort him because of your abuse!? How many times he cried because you neglected him!? You might be his father, but you aren’t his dad! You’re a walking shit stain! Scum of the earth! A selfish, evil, pathetic excuse for a man! I hate you! I hate what you did to him! I hate what you did to both of them! And now this!? How could you betray him!?”

Gabriel wasn’t able to fight back. He was too stunned to say anything. This tiny creature could destroy him with a single breath.

“Plagg, stop it. You’re not thinking clearly!”

“I’m not thinking clearly!? Tikki! He’s Hawkmoth!”

“What?!”

“Nooroo! Nooroo get your ass out here!”

Tikki gasped as the lilac butterfly came into view, looking completely ashamed.

Plagg continued his rant, oblivious to the slack jaws in the room. “Is there a single person in your life that you haven’t hurt?! Haven’t manipulated into doing your biding!?”

“I didn’t mean to—“

“I’ve seen centuries, you vile worm! I’ve lived among humans as long as they’ve existed! So you listen to me when I say you are nothing but evil, Gabriel Agreste! Your heart is full of hatred and you aren’t capable of love! Not towards your son! Not towards your wife! That’s why she left you!”

Gabriel ripped his shirt out of the kwami’s paws. “She didn’t leave me!”

Plagg let him go, curious, but still fuming, as to why that was the only thing he argued.

“You’re right. I’m vile, and cruel, and evil. But Emilie didn’t leave. She…” He swallowed.

Everyone was watching him carefully, partly in fear of his violence. Partly because they wanted to give him a chance to redeem himself.

“The Peacock Miraculous is broken.” He began. “It was broken when we got it, though I didn’t know at the time. Emilie and I…we bought them from a vender in Tibet. Along with a book. We used them as inspiration in our designs. And for a while, thats all we used them for. But…Emilie, she always wore the peacock because she loved her Kwami so dearly. But Dusuu…she stole Emilie’s energy. And eventually, she fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up.” Gabriel fell into his chair, his head in his hands. “I didn’t know what to do. The doctors had no answers. She wasn’t dead, but…” He shook his head. “Nooroo told me there was a chance to save her, if I could get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous. I could unify their powers and make an ultimate wish.”

“So, you had to lure us out.” Said Tikki. “By akumatizing people.”

“Yes,” Gabriel breathed. “So many times, things went too far, and I told myself I’d quit. But then I’d get so close and…it just got worse and worse. I neglected everything. I was obsessed! And then—And then Salo captured them.” He hugged his arms around his waist, feeling sick. “I had a hunch once, that Adrien was Chat Noir. He always wore the same ring, and got defensive when I asked him about it. But he was too clever and diverted my attention from him. It came as a shock when I saw his costume come off. All this time, I was trying to protect him…trying to bring his mother back and make us a family again…but all I did was drive him away. This is all my fault. Not Master Fu’s, not even Salo’s…I’m responsible for this.”

Plagg said nothing, just glared and listened.

Gabriel raised his head to look into the kwami’s ancient green eyes. “So you’d be doing Adrien a favor by killing me.”

Plagg groaned at the sacrificial tone. Humans were just so stupid. “No, I wouldn’t. That kid loves you. I don’t know why, but he does. So, if you are really repentant, and whatever…then you better start acting like a father. Getting rid of you would just hurt him more…he doesn’t need any more loss.”

Gabriel smiled the tiniest bit. “There is something good that came out of this.”

Plagg looked at him skeptically.

“Master Fu revealed himself to us. In order to apologize. I took him aside and explained all of this. He arranged Emilie and Nathalie to go to Tibet and see the Guardian’s at the temple. Nathalie just emailed. Emilie…she’s awake. She’s alright. Adrien will have his mother back.”

Gabriel continued to smile as Plagg stared right back, something akin to pity on his face. “So what? You think this is happily ever after now?”

Gabriel’s smile fell.

“Adrien doesn’t need his mom anymore. He thought she was dead. He grieved. Alone. And then he healed and moved on. He found family in his friends. You’re the one that stayed behind in denial. Instead of dealing with the consequences of your actions, you brought everyone else down into madness with you. Do you know what seeing her alive again will do to him? Do you know how badly that will mess him up? Knowing that she was alive the whole time and she didn’t return? Or that you didn’t tell him!?”

Gabriel’s face paled. “I tried to tell him…but I didn’t think he’d understand.”

“He wouldn’t’ve. I barely understand it myself, and only because it’s over now.”

Tikki floated a few inches away from Plagg, as he continued to crackle with energy.

“This is stupid. I’ve wasted enough time here listening to your pathetic excuses. I have to see him! I promised I’d never leave him alone again!” He darted through the nearest door in frantic energy.

“Plagg!” Tikki shouted, flying after. Trixx and Wayzz hurried to catch up as well.

In the hall, Plagg rushed around, peeking in every room he came into, and stopping every time he saw a blond head.

When it became clear that Adrien wasn’t on the floor, he darted through the floor and went on his search.

“Adrien! Adrien!” He cried, startling nurses and patients alike.

Plagg pulled up short in front of a man in full scrubs, mask and gloves. “Where’s Adrien!?” He asked.

The man blinked. “I—What?”

“Adrien! Adrien Agreste! Where is he!? I need to see him!”

“I believe he’s in surgery…what are you?”

“Where!?” Plagg just screamed louder. Then he caught sight of the white board on the wall. A quick glance showed the name Agreste in room OR4.

He was off again, without a look back.

Frantic, he flitted from room to room, tracking the numbers.

Then finally, he found it. OR4.

He burst in the doors, startling those inside. “Adrien!”

A nurse looked at him, tilted her head, and said, “I’m sorry, you can’t be in here…”

“He needs me! Please!” But as he came closer, dread wrapped around him. It had to be Adrien. There was a young man on the operating table, laying on his stomach. The height was the same, the hair was still that golden wheat color. But he was so skinny and pale...

But the worst part was that from the base of his neck to his lower calves, deep gashes cut into his skin and muscle. The worst was around his shoulder blades, which were visible through the gore.

“What are you doing to him?” Plagg’s voice came out hollow, and afraid.

The head surgeon looked up at him, his eyes narrowing. “I’m Dr. Ernst Boucher, in charge of Adrien and Marinette’s surgeries and recoveries. Who…and what, are you?”

“I’m Plagg.”

“Ah, I see,” said he and then gestured him forward with a bloody finger.

The team watched him as he floated closer, and hovered over Adrien’s heart.

“We’ve studied the footage very carefully. He called for you, asking where you were.”

“Footage? What are you talking about?”

The doctor pointed to the table, right beside Adrien’s neck. “You can sit here.”

Plagg floated down and nuzzled against his chosen.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were kidnapped and their identities were revealed on camera.”

“So everyone knows?”

“The whole world knows. They’ve been broadcasting them for about a month and a half now. Live torture at any hour of the day.”

“A month…?” Plagg’s voice was gravelly and weak. “They were tortured?”

“Yes.” Said the doctor, as he continued the surgery. “Adrien has a some pretty severe tissue damage all through here.”

“How did this happen?”

The doctor was quiet for a moment, giving instructions to his team members, before answering, “Several hours of flogging with a cat-o-nine tails.”

Plagg didn’t say anything after that, just let out a quiet sob and snuggled closer to Adrien’s neck.

—

Hours later, the group in the waiting room were high with anxiety. Gabriel continued to sit in the corner with his head in his hands. Light conversation had flittered around the room, but no one dared bring up Hawkmoth’s sad origin.

Tikki, Trixx, and Wayzz had returned after about a half hour, when they concluded Plagg was nowhere to be found, and he likely wanted to be left alone.

Alya rested her head on Nino’s shoulder while she napped. Tom and Sabine played cards at the table.

Then the door opened. There stood a doctor in still bloody scrubs, with a black blob in his hand.

“Are you Dr. Boucher?” Gabriel asked, at attention.

“That’s right. Mr. Agreste?” He held out his free hand for a hand shake. “Nice to meet you in person. Glad we were able to get on this as soon as possible.” He turned to Tom and Sabine. “Mr. Dupain? Mrs. Cheng? Marinette’s all stitched up. She has received a blood transfusion and a whooping 19 stitches on her back. Right now, we’re monitoring a pretty severe case of pneumonia, as well as an infection in her hand and her feet. We have her on an IV with antibiotics to help with this. She’s also on a ventilator to help with her breathing. She has some scarring on her neck from strangulation, but as that happened a while ago, I think any damage has healed. Examining the footage, we’ve deduced that the food they were giving them is what’s known as ‘food loaf’ a old prison practice. Leftover meals are blended and then cooked into a flavorless loaf. But most of the nutrients are there. While they aren’t completely starved, we still will have to ease them into a regular diet to avoid refeeding syndrome. They will both be drinking a lot of water and juice high in electrolytes.” He noticed the other kwamis sitting on a chair, watching them, and brought Plagg over to join them. He was asleep and curled up into a ball. “Marinette will be extremely tired because of the infections. She’s not likely to wake up for several days. And when she does, I’m not certain about her mental state. She will be confused, but that’s understandable.”

“What about Adrien?” Gabriel asked, once the man seemed finished.

Dr. Boucher sighed. “Adrien is still in surgery, or…more precisely, he’s back in surgery. His flogging wounds were much more severe since he was whipped for a longer period of time. He is being stitched where he can, but we had to do a split-depth skin graft over his shoulder blades. The whip went deep into his muscles and tore out his flesh right down to the bone. We were able to suture the muscles back together, but the skin was too far apart to stitch back together. We took a sample from his inner thigh that was wide enough to cover his wound.”

“So what’s happening to him now?”

“Now the team is preparing to examine his sternum. In the early part of their stay, he sustained a wound from a crowbar to the chest. During the wedding, the bruising was visible and I can already tell he has a few broken ribs. He may even have flail chest, where the ribs float in the plural cavity and can damage other organs.” He frowned, his lip pulling further on one side. “This is a very difficult case. In order to do either surgery, Adrien had to risk the other wound. Obviously, the back was the most pressing, even with the pressure his akuma suit put on the wound, it was still bleeding fiercely. In order to get it properly cared for, he would have to lay on his front, risking the broken rib. It’s a tricky situation.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes in defeat.

“Besides those wounds, I’m assuming Adrien also has pneumonia, as he was exposed to the same conditions as Marinette. Because of the blood loss, he entered Hypovolemic shock, and achieved stage 4, which resulted in kidney and heart failure. With a blood transfusion, he should be on the mend, as his heart rate has steadily decreased and his hyperpnea has slowed. His breathing still doesn’t sound good, but it’s a lot slower and stable. That leads me to believe that he’s come out of shock. We will have to monitor his kidney output.”

Gabriel collapsed in a chair, his head in his hands.

“He also has infection in his hand where he was branded. And unfortunately, the upper part of his left ear will have to be removed. The infection has turned gangrenous and could infect the bloodstream.”

“Please tell me that’s all…” Gabriel whispered.

“Once he has stabilized, we will operate on his arm. The dislocation of his shoulder has likely stretched his tendons, and his arm will not be usable until that is fixed. And, I have no proof of this, but I think he may have vocal nodules, little growths on his vocal chords that prevent him from speaking. This is usually caused by excessive screaming.”

“Can I see him?”

Dr. Boucher sighed again, and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Agreste, I can’t let you see your son right now. And it’s with a heavy heart I tell you…he may not survive the night. He lost a lot of blood.”

A sob broke out of the man. “But you gave him a transfusion! He has enough blood now!”

“Yes, but he’s not getting enough oxygen to his body! We’ve introduced a ventilator, but there’s not much else we can do with the pneumonia and nodules.” He swallowed. “It’s up to Adrien now.”

The room was silent as Nino embraced Alya, Tom held his wife, and misery choked Gabriel.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you more good news, but I wanted to provide an update as soon as I could. I have to go back now. We’re beginning Adrien’s rib fixation.”

No one tried to stop him.

He nodded once, and left the room.

Gabriel didn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating. And he was all alone. This was when he really needed his wife. She deserved to know what was happening. But there was no way, in good conscience he could tell her. Not after all he did to her.

“Mr. Agreste?” A tiny voice spoke up.

Gabriel raised his eyes to a little red kwami, looking at him with so much pity he could drown in it.

“I’m Tikki, Marinette’s kwami.” She introduced, pleasantly.

He looked away from her.

“You know, Adrien’s really strong. And he really loves Marinette, so I don’t think he’d give up on her.”

“Why are you talking to me?” It was just a curious question, but came out so harshly in his voice. “Don’t you know who I am?”

She blinked. “You’re Hawkmoth.”

His lip twitched in disgust.

“But you’re also Adrien’s father, and Marinette’s favorite fashion designer.”

“I’m also responsible for this.” He spat. “If not for me, then they wouldn’t—“

“Perhaps not.” Said Tikki, wisely. “But it could have been someone else. Someone who would have been tortured and killed. They wouldn’t have been rescued, and the woman wouldn’t have been caught. She would keep on hurting people. No matter what you’ve told yourself, or what others may have said…this isn’t your fault. It’s Salo’s.”

He shook his head. “Regardless, I’ve still hurt so many people. I’ve hurt my son! Everything would have been better without me.”

“Really? Because…without you, I would have never met Marinette. And Plagg would have never met Adrien. And he’ll never admit it, but Adrien’s his favorite wielder.”

Gabriel just stared at her and listened.

“Without you, people would have never gotten to experience the thrill of superheroes. Adrien and Marinette wouldn’t have gotten to be superheroes. We keep focusing on the trials they had to endure, but not the joys they felt. Marinette’s boost in confidence, Adrien’s freedom to let loose. Paris wouldn’t have a reason to fight for positivity…And Ladybug and Chat Noir would have never become friends.”

“Marinette and Adrien know each other from school.” He argued.

“But the unwavering trust, the absolute devotion, that came from their bond as heroes. Not from being classmates.”

Gabriel hugged his stomach with one arm, as a hand ran through his already wild hair. He chanced a glance to the other side of the room, to see everyone staring at him.

He swallowed. “I have to turn myself in. I have to go to prison.”

“No, don’t.” Said Sabine, standing to walk over to him. “Hawkmoth is retired. He saved them, and that’s enough for me.”

His eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”

“I know you want to do the right thing, Gabriel. But think of Adrien. He’ll need all the love and support he can get. I know Tom loves him like a son, but there’s no replacement for a father.”

Gabriel hunched his shoulders.

“And besides, do you really want him dealing with the press of that discovery? Do you think that’s fair in the wake of what’s happened?”

He scowled. “No. That’s not fair to him at all.”

“Then, here’s the deal.” She sat in the chair next to him, and made herself look professional. “You are going to get your act together. You’re going to be better. You’re going to be a dad for that boy. You’re going to get therapy and leave the past in the dust. Do we have an agreement?” She held out her hand.

Gabriel inhaled deeply, sitting up. He combed his hair back. “It won’t be easy. But I’ll do my best. In return, I ask that you call me out if you see me slipping into previous behaviors.”

“Oh, I promise I will.”

“Then we have a deal.”

And they shook on it.

#longest night #ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrinette #ladynoir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste redemption

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tell-me-when-ur-ready · 5 years ago

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This Thing Called Love (part four)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her—hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: I have multiple chronic illnesses that are similar to Kellie’s, but I don’t have the same exact health conditions she does. I’ve done lots of research, but I apologize if I get anything wrong!

Warnings: everything comes out and shawn reacts with a disgusting amount of kindness and understanding lol

Word count: 1,800

Kellie had listened to the song. She’d reviewed the general notes sent by the choreographer, who’d said they would hash out the details of the dance during a day or two of rehearsals before they got on set. She had taken off work. She’d booked a plane ticket (and been reimbursed by Shawn’s team—that was nice) and flown to Toronto and successfully seen herself to her hotel. Everything had gone smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that she should have known it was all about to come crashing down.

Before Kellie even opened her eyes on the first day of rehearsals for Shawn’s new music video, she knew it was bad. Her joints were a little achy; her stomach was cramping, not badly but enough to bother her (she wasn’t totally sure her takeout last night had been completely free of contamination); and there was a dull, throbbing ache in her temples that did hurt. Badly. Without opening her eyes all the way, she reached out through the darkness and fumbled around on her nightstand until her fingers closed around the current medication she was taking for migraines; it had been getting less and less effective over the last couple of weeks. Sitting up slightly, Kellie put the pill at the back of her throat and swallowed it dry, a useful skill she’d finally acquired after three years of medication after medication.

Squinting, Kellie slowly sat up and tried to assess the damage. She stood up slowly; pressing a hand to either side of her head, she walked unsteadily across the room and promptly stumbled into the dresser.

Really, she’d known before she even opened her eyes. But now she knew for sure. There was no way she could get in the dance studio with Shawn.

She allowed herself one moment of self-pity: one moment to close her eyes, silently curse how unfair life was, and feel an overwhelming sense of despair for everything she’d lost after becoming sick and everything she was still to lose. But then she opened her eyes, carefully walked back through the dark room, and picked up her phone, grabbing her little bottle of lavender essential oil on the way back.

Her phone screen was too bright even with the darkness all the way down, but, squinting, she managed to type out a message to Shawn—his was the only number she had saved in her phone, and she definitely didn’t feel like digging through her inbox to find someone else’s number, even if they were the ones she needed to tell and not him.

I’m so sorry. I woke up sick. I don’t think I can dance today

His answer was almost immediate.

That’s awful, are you ok?

Was she okay? Kellie chose not to answer that part, instead writing,

Think I ate something bad last night.

It wasn’t a lie, she reasoned with herself. It had been bad for her body even if it wouldn’t affect anyone else’s.

Oh man. What hotel are you staying at?

She typed the name and sent it—and then instantly regretted it, cursing her brain-fogged state. The last thing she wanted was for him to go out of his way and do something dumb like—

I’m gonna swing by. What’s your room number? Need anything to eat?

Kellie let out an involuntary groan and didn’t answer for a moment, staring at the screen while the pounding in her head continued. She didn’t want him to come. She couldn’t lie to his face—but if he came, she was going to have to tell him. And she didn’t want to tell him; she desperately didn’t want him to know.

But another level, she almost did. If he was going to react badly and run, like so many people (friends, boys, and potential employers alike) had over the years, she wanted to know sooner rather than later.

So Kellie simply typed No, thanks, added her room number, and closed her phone. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep, but she must have, because it seemed like only a second later that there was a light knock on her hotel room door.

Kellie got up slowly and padded to the door. When the light from the hallway flooded in, she had to cover her eyes for a minute; finally, she adjusted and lowered her hand. Shawn was standing in front of her.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he said, gazing at her with a concerned line between his eyebrows.

“Yeah…” She blinked slowly at him, still half-asleep. If she wasn’t in so much pain, she’d be embarrassed about her messy hair and Stark Industries T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.

“You think you ate something bad?” Shawn asked, and Kellie let out a little sigh, because here it was.

“Yeah. I had a salad and I think it had croutons in it and I didn’t notice, or maybe it was the wrong kind of dressing, or it was cross-contaminated in the kitchen…” Kellie trailed off. She constantly analyzed her symptoms of the moment in her head, but she typically tried not to do it aloud, because no one else really cared.

Shawn cocked his head. “Croutons?”

He looked like he wasn’t quite following. She couldn’t blame him.

Kellie took a deep breath.

“I’m physically disabled,” she said. Even after the diagnoses, after accepting it, after living with it every day for three years, it was still hard to say the words—because it hadn’t always been like this.

Shawn’s eyes stayed trained on hers. She was grateful for that; most people would look her up and down, as if searching for physical signs. But there weren’t any. Her disability was invisible.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Can I ask… how?”

If he didn’t run now, he’d run later, when he fully understood everything her health issues implied.

“I have Celiac disease, and chronic migraines, and a bunch of complications from both of those things,” Kellie said. Even now, after the medicines and the lavender oil and the dark room, the pain was pushing at the back of her head, making it difficult to think clearly. “I don’t know if you know anything about either of those—most people don’t—but, well, this is my life.” She laughed shortly. “I cancel on people at the last minute, I can’t go to work many days, I spend a lot of time in bed. I push through this stuff every day of my life. But some days, I just can’t.”

“Wow. That’s—that’s rough,” he said softly, leaning one shoulder against the doorway.

“I feel so bad. I know I’m letting you down and letting everyone down and I just, I’m so sorry, but my head hurts so much right now I can hardly speak and—”

Shawn was shaking his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I just—I mean, wow. I’m sorry; shit, that’s a lot. Why didn’t you tell me? When we went to lunch?”

Kellie shrugged, glancing down at the floor. At her mismatched Harry Potter socks and his pointy-toed shoes. “I just—it’s so hard to talk about. I mean, I want to talk about it; I want people to understand. But they never do no matter how much I talk. So I just… don’t try.”

He nodded, his gaze softening.

“But I’m sorry,” she said again, steadying herself on the doorframe as a wave of dizziness hit. She struggled to keep talking: “I really should have told you, when you asked me about the music video. That wasn’t fair. I guess I just—I thought you’d decide you didn’t want me then, and I really need this, and—”

“No,” Shawn breathed. He was looking her straight in the eye. “I do want you.”

And despite the fact that Kellie had just woken up and she was practically high on painkillers and this was only, what, the third time she’d ever spoken to Shawn Mendes in person—she thought he meant it. Maybe even, she realized with a sudden flash of intuition at the look in his eyes, on a deeper level than just the music video.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, and the moment was broken. “Do you need anything? I could go get you food, or… I don’t know, what do you need?”

A warm feeling spread through Kellie’s chest. “Thanks. That’s really nice. Um, I have my medicine, and Gatorade, and—I’m not really hungry. My migraine is only half the problem today; my stomach really hurts too, because apparently I accidentally ate gluten last night, so I don’t know if I can eat.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “Well, text me later. If you think of anything you need.”

Kellie nodded. “Lately, my migraines have only been lasting for a day or two at a time,” she said, tentative (because who was she to rearrange a shoot for Shawn Mendes because she had a headache?). “So maybe tomorrow, if it’s not too late—I know I’m throwing off the whole schedule, but if you haven’t already filmed everything you would need me for—”

Shawn gave her a little crooked grin. “How could we film it if you’re not there?” he said, and Kellie felt herself flush with pleasure.

“I figured—I was replaceable,” she mumbled. Shawn shook his head, still smiling.

“I saw you dance. We’ll wait for you,” he said. Kellie smiled back at him for just a second before glancing down at the floor, a flash of warmth going through her.

There was a brief downbeat of silence and then he straightened up, pushing himself off of the doorframe.

“I should go. Let you rest. But text me, and then maybe tomorrow we can move forward with the rehearsals and the shoot, okay?”

She nodded, mute. But as he raised his hand goodbye and started to walk down the hall, she found her voice.

“Shawn? Thanks,” she called, and he looked at her over his shoulder. “For understanding.”

He smiled and then he was gone, disappearing into the elevator. Kellie went back into her room and shut the door.

***

It was a long, dark day for Kellie; when she got back into bed after Shawn left, she didn’t get up again until almost 4 pm. Occasionally she’d pick up her phone, turn the brightness all the way down, and scroll through social media, and a few times she put the recording Shawn had sent her on repeat and listened to the song they’d (hopefully) be dancing to. But mostly she just laid in the dark—sometimes sleeping, sometimes not, always analyzing the voice and facial expression and tone with which Shawn had said “I do want you.”

Later that evening, around dinnertime, Shawn texted her.

Hey. How are you?

I’m better. Took a bunch of pills and the migraine is slowly going away. I can deal with all the stomach stuff

You sure? I don’t want you to dance unless you’re really good

Well I won’t know until the morning but I’m going to try my best

Okay. Do you need anything?

No, but thanks :)

Ok. Talk to you in the morning.

And Kellie went back to sleep.

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @evibesss

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #sm #shawn #chronically ill #chronic illness

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gremlinkween · 5 years ago

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Bad Moon Rising

Part 2: Mermen, Vampires, and Werewovles, Oh My!

Summary: The reader finds and rescues a hurt merman who tells her that his name is Jim. She helps him without a second thought, but his presence might attract the attention of other supernatural creatures she never knew existed. This will eventually be a foursome (Jim Mason x Michael Langdon x Duncan Shepard x Reader) mythology/supernatural au.

A/N: I'm not dead! Instead of just saying that I was gonna do something, I figured my welcome back post would be the next revised chapter of BMR as an apology. I had some repressed memories come up and they were repressed for a reason so that rocked my boat real hard, but hi everyone! I'll get to the asks sitting in the inbox hopefully tonight, but it might have to be tomorrow. So for the new readers, the last one of the foursome is introduced, but we’ll get to actually see more of Michael and Duncan in the next part. There is an oc in here, Rory, that we’ll see more later. I’ve had him for awhile and he’s actually one of my fave characters ever. You can totally imagine Cillian Murphy for him. Again, if you want to be on the tag list, just hit me up and let me know what you think!

Warnings: No smut yet, sorry. There is blood, injury, mentions of mental illness, depression, crying, concern about having a total break from reality.

Word Count: 2.3k

Tagging List: @langdonsinferno, and @moonagecordelia and remember, my tag list is all sorts of messed up so please lmk if you want to be on it! either for this story or all my work!

Previous Parts: Part 1

“I thought that vampires fed off of humans? Why did he go for you instead of me?”

“Well, yeah, vampires feed off of humans, but that’s not their only food source. Faerie blood is actually more nutritious and flavorful for vampires, just humans are more readily available and easier to hunt. He probably smelt my blood and sought me out.”

“… Wow, I mean makes sense, I guess?” It really didn’t, nothing made sense to her, but also Jim could tell her that the sky was actually purple and the ocean was orange, and she’d believe him at this point.

“You should probably take care of him.”

“Yeah, probably. Do I need something stronger than rope.”

He scoffed, “Yes, probably something more like a stake through the heart.”

She looked to the darkly angelic figure passed out on the floor. He looked helpless now, and she could see that the wounds that were on the cat adorned and tarnished his skin. He was hurt, and probably just looking for a way to heal himself. She felt bad, but on the other hand, Jim was in danger. So was she. This was fucked up. “No.”

Jim gave her a look like she might be insane.

“I said no. He’s just trying to survive like you. I’ll get like, chains or something. That should hold him?”

Jim looked at her with such bewilderment, she felt like she was the weird one in the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s probably going to end badly.”

She was still looking at the vampire. Probably, she was thinking, but that’s not what she said. “I think it’s going to be fine.”

“…. Okay, if you say so.” Jim was still so unsure of this. “Just move him please.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

—————————

Moving the vampire that was nearly double her size wasn’t an easy feat, but she did it. Thank god for the hauls of fish she’s been lugging around her whole life or this might actually be impossible. She had him propped up against the support beam in the living room. That was the sturdiest place in her house she could think of, but you knew you needed to move fast. There was no telling how much time you had before he woke up, and she couldn’t imagine he’d be happy when he did. Now, the next problem was finding chains and a lock that was probably heavy duty enough. She figured the boatyard, but she’d really have to move her ass.

She grabbed the keys to her dad’s old beat up pick up truck and a jacket and hurried out the door. She was humming to herself in a tense song, a habit she did out of nervousness, and fumbled with the keys.

“Hi there, Y/N, a little la-” a familiar voice called, but with the night’s events, she was already under so much pressure, and she yelped and nearly threw the keys. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Hi, Rory. Sorry, it’s been a night.” Oh Rory, the older Irish gentleman that ran the dock’s favorite bar to go to in the evening, and her next door neighbor. She had known him her whole life, a steady constant in this crazy shit show her life had been these past couple of months. She really wasn't alarmed with him being out so late. With his business, he always had been a night owl.

“I can see that,” his thick accent rang out with a chuckle, and she blanched for a second. “Dragging in buckets of sea water?”

“It’s an art project,” She answered maybe a little too fast and he cocked an eyebrow. “You know, for processing trauma. I read about it.”

“Okay then, Y/N,” he was unsure, but he was going to drop it. He knew grief made people do some strange things sometimes.

“I’m going out for more things.” She didn’t know when to stop talking apparently.

“Well, good luck with that at 3 am. Just be careful,” he wished her well, “It’s a full moon, all the crazies are out tonight.”

She just chuckled uneasily, if she could only tell him. “Will do, you get some rest.”

“You too, dear.”

She was finally able to get the truck open and started, and she sped off to the boatyard.

————————————

The yard was desolate and particularly eerily this night. Mist from the water was creeping over the place and gave it an all too fitting gothic appearance. She really wished that the world would stop being so poetic for a change. She found herself pulling her jacket tighter as she walked in between the older and busted up boats, something making the hair on the back of her neck stand up on end. A presence was following her, but she was all too tired of the night's weirdness to give into the thought. Surely, tonight couldn't get weirder.

She had to kick the door down to the supply shed, but she doubted anyone would really care. This was the forgotten side of town anyway. She found heavy duty chains and a padlock fairly quickly, a feeling of satisfaction filled her that was quickly overshadowed by something else. Her head whipped up to the door and then to the window. She saw nothing, but she swore she felt eyes on her. Very intent eyes. God damn it. At this point, she was just hoping for another human.

The best thing to do was just get the hell out of there regardless, she decided, and without actually breaking into a run, she moved as fast as she could.

Outside, she swore she hear footsteps of something. It was much too big to be a person, but she didn’t know what it could be. Could be anything. She didn't know, and she was getting tired of this one night getting so fucking weird. There was an idea trying to creep into her mind, one that she was trying to violently shut out. She actually might just give up if she was right.

There was a movement and then a soft growl. She blanched again, but sighed. Of course. No, of course this would be the night that even more insane shit has to happen. She turned to the boat she saw the movement coming from and her eyes widened, yet she was somehow not surprised. A giant wolf monster sat perched up on the cabin and she nodded. “Sure. Yep. This might as well happen. Let’s just get this over with.”

It glowered at her as it crept down and off the boat, but in the bright moonlight, she saw the deep wounds ruining the lay of the coat. It growled again and began to stand on this back legs, standing at it’s full eight foot height, but she held dropped the chains and held up her hands. “Don’t even think about it, buddy,” she said firmly and the wolf’s ears pitched forward, clearly curious about the lack of fear.

“I’ve got a hurt merman and a vampire I need to restrain soon or he’s going to try to eat the merman at home. I see that you’re hurt. I can take care of you, but I need you to stop being a dick.”

It looked like it was debating something it’s head before settling down on all fours and cautiously moved towards her before gently nuzzling into her neck, smelling and licking her, she figured that this was some kind of greeting that werewolves had, but he was being friendly, but she just rolled with it. It was that kind of night that was already weird enough. She scratched behind it’s ears and it practically mewled and she had to smile, that was pretty cute.

“Come on, let’s go. I have to get back before the vampire wakes up.”

He limped along with her, and she had to help the poor thing up into the bed of the truck, but he was behaving quite well. She covered him up, with one of the tarps she used for the fish, and hopped in. Hopefully, she wasn’t too late, and she felt worry pit itself in her stomach.

———————————————–

She had to make sure the lights on in Rory’s house were off before she uncovered the newest friend and boy from her truck and hurried him into the house.

The first thing she did was check to make sure that the vampire was still out and passed out where she left him. Thankfully, he was, and she was able to breathe a sigh of relief. She went back to the kitchen as the werewolf began sniffing around. “Go upstairs, it’s the room with the lights on.”

The wolf looked at her uneasily, but he relented and sulked up the stairs on all fours, looking over its’ shoulders at her.

She grabbed the chains and quickly secured the vampire to the post. There was a moment that nearly had her passing out, his nose flared a couple of times when she got closer, but luckily that was his only response to her.

She didn’t waste anymore time though, grabbed the medical box for the third time tonight, and she was running up the stairs. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the large furry head pop out of the doorway. It was odd to have such a large creature in her house, but she didn’t think about that just yet. She sat the box down on the desk and she heard it growl softly.

“Come on, I know this is going to hurt a little bit, but,” the wolf cut her off with another, more aggressive growl.

“Uhhh, Y/N,” Jim called from the bathroom. “What was that?”

She turned around and went to the door. “I might have made another new friend tonight.” The wolf’s head popped into sight from the door to look at where the other voice came from out of curiosity, and Jim went white.

“That’s an alpha werewolf.”

She grunted as he pushed his way into the bathroom and began smelling and licking at Jim’s neck like he had done with her, and Jim couldn’t help the giggles that escaped his mouth and it only encouraged the wolf to tickle him more, but he eventually pushed him off gently.

Jim smiled shyly at the wolf before looking to her again. “Why was he growling at you?”

“I was just getting ready to stitch up his wounds.”

The monstrous animal’s ears pinned back at the word and Jim swatted his muzzle, startling the wolf.

“Be nice. She doesn’t know anything and you can’t talk in that form,” Jim chided with a small smile.

“You don’t need to rub it in!” She was almost defensive, but Jim was laughing.

“Werewolves don’t need stitches, particularly alphas. He’ll be fine by tomorrow night, you won’t even know that he was hurt.”

She nodded, but then stopped. “Why did he come with me then? If he didn’t need help.”

Jim’s eyes were practically shining with mischief. “He probably thinks you’re cute.”

She was bright red now and she looked at the clear amusement both of them had.

“Or he had other reasons, I’m just,” He had to think about it. He wasn’t sure about the human word for this. “Having my fun?” He had a little shy smile, and while she was scowling, her heart melted a bit at the expression.

“I didn’t realize I was opening my door to such jokesters,” but even she had to laugh.

She let out a yawn, and she realized how tired she was out. It hit like a freight train now that she didn't have a murderous vampire on the loose and she no longer had to play doctor. “Well, I think I’m going to be retiring for the night. Jim would you like a pillow or something?”

He cocked he eyebrow. Right, that makes sense that they wouldn’t have them in the ocean.

“I’ll go get one for you away.”

The wolf followed her out of the bathroom and crawled up on the bed for no regard to his weight as he circled like any dog would before settling down on the bed. She grabbed one of the extra pillows and returned to stuff it in the corner between the wall and the bathtub and Jim hesitantly rested his head against it before his eyes lit up.

“This is very comfortable. What did you call this?”

She chuckled, “A pillow. Goodnight, Jim.”

He smiled, “Goodnight, Y/N. Thank you. again.”

“It’s no problem.” With that, she left again for the bedroom.

She looked at the wolf, seemingly asleep, and she decided what the hell. She took her bra off and her pants, leaving herself in just a shirt and underwear. She crawled into bed under the blankets and tried to get comfortable, but sleep wasn’t coming to her at all. She was just replaying the events of the night.

So, at the beginning of the night, it was crippling loneliness and a solid crying session, then late night sailing on the boat …. Then she saved a merman …. Then they got attacked by a vampire ….. and then she picked up a werewolf ….. and now there’s a merman in her bathtub, a vampire chained up in the living room, and a werewolf in bed with her. She sighed. This was…. weird. This was a weird night. This couldn’t have happened, could it? This stuff was made up. Oh god, she was having a mental breakdown. She was breaking and this wasn’t real. None of this was real.

She was starting to hyperventilate, panic gripping her, but then she felt a warm head, a very warm, very large, and very fluffy head nuzzle into her chest. A strong, furry arm ending in a hand with extremely long and sturdy claws wrapped around her abdomen and pulled her tight. An animal’s tongue licked her cheek and she had to laugh at how much it tickled. She heard the wolf make a noise deep within its throat in approval and she relaxed. This was real. It was very very real and she had the feeling that this wolf wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Sleep soon took over, and for the first time in what felt like years, there was a smile on her face.

#cody fern fanfic #cody fern fanficiton #michael langdon imagine #duncan shepherd fanfic #jim mason fanfic #Bad Moon Rising

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years ago

Text

The Boy in the Belfry, part 14. A Bungou Stray Dogs fic

It was another week before Dazai was lucid and able to stay awake long enough to actually answer a couple of the many questions that Kunikida had written down in his book of Ideals (without scowling at the chair at his bedside and accusing it of judging him- Dazai really didn't react well to being medicated), while Fukuzawa lingered in the back. Ranpo was there too, as an observer and had gotten the task of calling out Dazai if he tried to bluff. Atsushi was there mostly as moral support.

Dazai sat propped up by pillows, wearing a metal back-brace, and his leg had finally been properly dressed in a hard cast. His head was bandaged after a couple of stitches to the back of the head, and Yosano had tried her best to replicate how he wore his other, usual, bandages.

Old wounds, new wrappings.

Dazai sported his trademark crooked smile as Kunikida stared him down, waiting for the answer to his first question; what the fuck?

Dazai scoffed. "Yeah, I know, right?"

He rolled his eyes wryly and shrugged his shoulders as mundane as could be.

"Leave it to Dazai to be kidnapped by an old demented paranoid schizophrenic preacher," Dasai tsk'ed and shook his head in such disappointment of himself.

Dazai's inability to take anything seriously enraged Kunikida more than he could put his words to, but he had to keep his temper under control if he wanted to avoid being kicked out of the room by Dazai's doctors, and keeping his ass from being kicked by Chuuya (or Atsushi for that matter, who was staring at him warningly).

Kunikida's dissatisfaction with him was clear as day, which Dazai obviously had expected.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers," he concluded, reaching his tongue out.

"To be fair, it was a pretty... vague question," Ranpo added carefully.

"Don't you have some glasses to polish?" Kunikida snapped back, receiving a mournful look from Ranpo, being reminded of the grave loss he had experienced when he couldn't figure out what was going on with Dazai.

"Kunikida..." Fukuzawa warned.

"I'm calm!"

…

"Okay, I'm not calm."

He took a deep breath and held it for ten seconds as he walked a couple of laps around the room.

"Dazai-kun, there's really no need to withhold any information anymore. We already know more than I know you would like us to... The only thing we really need to know is why," Fukuzawa said calmly.

Dazai's smile didn't stir, but there was something sad that shadowed over the usual twinkle in his eyes and dulled them considerably. He chuckled, but there was nothing humorous in it.

"Yeah, I-" he tried.

Something in him wanted to tell them everything. At least everything he knew or could remember. He really wanted to... be understood. He wanted them to know why he was the way he was. Why he couldn't express his feelings, because, it wasn't that he didn't want to express himself, he just didn't know how to.

Every emotion that once possibly had come naturally to him, he had been stripped off before he could even remember.

No crying, no laughing, no smiling, no anger, no sadness, no happiness, no weakness, no fear, no love, no hope.

His stomach started to feel queasy and he realized that he had been glaring at his feet for way too long. They were all looking at him, With the expressions, he knew was 'worried', which, they probably could feel for real.

All the while, he was still smiling, which was the wrong expression,

He mentally swift through his "emotional library" and tried to fit the situation to his facial expression, but it was all too much and his stomach was feeling bilious and the feelings that he did have, that he had no control over, completely overturned him as his heart started to race and the bile was halfway up his throat. Panic. A feeling that turned physical, that he couldn't wean, only hide.

What happened next, he didn't know if was a blessing or a curse.

But vomiting, he didn't need to fake. That came naturally.

He threw up all over the bed, panting with raspy breaths in a mix of discomfort and pain between the dry-heaves, as Atsushi tried to keep a straight face while stroking his back and Fukuzawa ordered Kunikida to do- something- Dazai didn't hear, didn't care, as Kunikida ran out of the room.

...

The following hour went by with a bath and a change of rooms. Dazai was reminded of how much of a pain in the ass it was to get clean with a cast on, and he tried his hardest not to react to the way the male nurse who was helping him watched his bare skin as he undressed the bile-covered bandages with that compassionate and surprised look they always got.

He was so, so sick of it. Wished he could crawl out of his skin, shed it like a snake, and rid himself of it once and for all.

All the fuzz had made him tired, as well as the strong pain medication he had gotten when they had to move him around as much as they had to. His co-workers had left, but he knew they'd be back tomorrow to try again to get the answers they wanted, probably armed with barf bags.

Dazai didn't know how he was going to be able to tell them, rubbing his face with frustration, as he heard a strange knock on the window.

It could only be one person, as his new room was on the fifth floor.

Dazai's bed was placed next to the window by his own request, and he pulled the curtain away and cracked the window open, letting Chuuya manipulate the gravity to pull the security lock open himself and climbing in.

"There's a perfectly fine door over there, you know," Dazai said tiredly.

"The receptionist told me visiting hours were over," Chuuya answered nonchalantly and very carefully crawled over the bed- to not repeat the disastrous 'butt-to-fracture action’ he had caused a couple of weeks ago.

"Also, you know I have a love for the dramatics."

Dazai smiled, for real. Chuuya could sometimes bring that out of him, which he appreciated.

It made him think...

"Chuuya, I need to ask you something."

"No Dazai, the hospital gown doesn't make your ass look fat," he sighed jokingly, looking in the mirror that was placed over a sink on the other side of the room, fixing a couple of stray hairs that had gotten loose from his pony-tail on his way up the side of the hospital.

"I know. I have a bony ass. You've told me," Dazai said exasperated. Maybe Chuuya wasn't the right person to talk about this with after all.

Chuuya seemed to sense Dazai's tension and regretted his ill-timed joke.

"I'm sorry," he said and turned back to Dazai. "Are you okay? Kunikida-san messaged me about the incident with your... stomach contents."

Dazai's lips twisted into a slightly curved smile. "You and Kunikida-san seem to message each other a lot recently," he commented, acting hurt.

"Yeah, well, it's hard to have joint custody of a twenty-two-year-old."

Chuuya placed a chair next to Dazai's bed and sat down.

"So, Dazai-chan," he said softly in a slightly higher pitch, as if he was talking to a child, receiving a tired smile from Dazai, and returning the smile calmly.

"What's going on?" he said, changed back to normal. Or, maybe a bit nicer than his normal, normal.

Dazai seemed to search for his words.

"I think- I think you are my oldest friend," he started. Chuuya's arched an eyebrow.

"I also think that, except for Mori, you're the person who knows the most about me, and... the stuff that has happened, you know, before..."

Chuuya nodded, unable to look Dazai in the eyes, knowing that Dazai probably looked the other way too. When Dazai didn't continue, Chuuya assumed he was stuck.

"Kunikida also told me that you blanked out..." he told him, realizing without much effort that there had to be a connection between Dazai's sudden sentimental statements and the events that had unfolded earlier that day.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Chu... I-I don't know why it happened. I actually wanted to tell them everything. Is that weird?" He looked on the other with genuinely questioning eyes.

"If you're referring to blanking out to the point that you puke- yeah, a bit. But, about letting your friends know what's been going on with you? No. Not at all. I think it'd be good for you to tell them."

"I couldn't. It felt like it got caught in my throat and when I finally got it unstuck- it came out as bile."

Chuuya sneered. "Well, I guess the imagery is pretty accurate."

Dazai only hummed in response, and leaned back in the bed, watching the city outside of his room.

They sat like that in silence for a little while, both reflecting on the years that had led up to this moment, where they were finally able to sit by each other's side as friends again, somewhat fucked up and complicated friends, but, there was nothing that wasn't fucked up and complicated with anything in their lives.

"Maybe you could write it down," Chuuya suddenly suggested.

"Huh?" Dazai turned to face him again, confused and weary.

"Write it down, what you want to tell them. If you're not comfortable with saying it... without spraying it," Chuuya looked way too smug about his own joke, "then maybe you'll be able to write it down."

Dazai grimaced. "I'm on a sick-leave for another 6 to 8 weeks. I don't want to write a report. Also, you know my handwriting looks like chicken-scratches."

"Yeah, you don't have to remind me. I'm sure you remember who wrote all of our hand-written reports for three years. But, it's not going to be like a report. It might actually put some weight off your back, and you only have to write what you want to write. I can bring you your laptop tomorrow."

Dazai thought about it for a second. Then, he looked back up at Chuuya with an undecipherable smile and gave a faint nod.

"Yeah, that's- that's actually a good idea." ...

The next day, before lunch, Fukuzawa was a little surprised to find an email from Dazai in his inbox. Even though the title said "DO YOU WANT TO INCREASE YOUR PENIS SIZE BY 51%?! WE HAVE AN INSANE OFFER FOR YOU!!!" he decided to open it. His anti-virus program was pretty air-tight, after all.

Also, he knew Dazai.

I am sorry about yesterday. I can't seem to actually talk about this whole mess, even if I kinda want to. So, I'm going to try to write it all down instead. Please tell Atsushi that I truly am sorry for puking on his shirt, and to Kyouka, who probably had to clean it. And to you, Fukuzawa-senpai, if you're insecure about the size of your penis.

(Fukuzawa edited this part out of the email before printing it out).

I don't know my father's real name. I've only ever called him Father. Neither do I know my mother's real name, but my father told me to call her Yariman -Slut.

She died when I was eight. I also had two older sisters, which both died before I was born. Father only wanted a son. They are buried with my mother under unmarked graves in the Shinja graveyard, I've never known where.

Much of the events of my early life are not relevant to the case. I might be ready to share some of it with you someday, but not today. What is relevant, is that Father's ability is called A Sinners Chagrin. As you might have guessed, it's the ability to make anyone's greatest fear appear before them. He spent most of my childhood making sure that my greatest fear was of God. Which it was, for a long time. A child's mind is easy to corrupt, and his ability started in the form of a generic boogyman and slowly turned in to my own depiction of God. After that, he was able to prove all his horrifying tales of what God would do to me, as he manipulated his ability to do just that.

(Fukuzawa: I ask that you are the only one who reads this next paragraph and that you remove it before anyone else can read it).

I'm sure the question all of you are dying to know the answer to, is how he was able to use his ability on me, and I'm afraid that the answer isn't as exciting or spectacular as you might think. It's simply because I'm afraid. And when I'm afraid, my body shuts down and disassociates, which apparently leaves me open for attack. I have never experienced it with anyone else but Father, but then again, he is the only one that has ever made me truly scared. Except for myself, apparently- considering the latest form of Father's ability. No idea how that happened... Nope. Guess that one will remain a mystery.

As you probably understand, this is information that leaves me in a pretty vulnerable position if fallen into the wrong hands, which is why I ask that no one else reads it.

(…)

(Baha! I just explained to Fukuzawa why Father's ability works on me and asked him to delete it before any of you scavengers can read it, suckaaaas)!

I guess where to go next is how I came about to join the Port Mafia. I have my suspicions that there is a little more to the story than I know for sure, but anything other then what I can actually recall will be speculations.

As Father was able to make 'God' appear by using me, he started to do exclusive performances to the elite of the extremist Christian societies around Japan. You all saw what the man had become- a deranged and utterly useless preacher that actually believed his ability to be a miracle, but he didn't start that way. He was a con-man. He knew what he was doing from the day he started doing it.

Sure, some of the pure insanity was there from the start (runs in the family I guess- so don't come for me), he did kill his wife and two daughters after all. I'm not an expert on family dynamics or anything, but I'm pretty sure that that is a kind of thing that isn't supposed to happen in the stereotypical nuclear family.

Anyway, the former main physician- turned boss of the Port Mafia, Ougai Mori, somehow got a whiff of Father, and decided to arrange a showcase of his "ability to make God appear" in front of the former boss, with the pretense of recruiting him. I was ten at the time and had recently started to develop some issues with Father's ramblings of how there was nothing worse than the wrath of God, which I guess somehow had been a pretty big part of my entire life at the time.

We did our usual shtick, and, I screwed up. I had no fear of his 'God' anymore, but I did have a great fear of him. Father.

The pain he had caused me was very real and very much caused by him and him alone. So, that was who showed himself that day, and ruined everything for him.

I don't know what happened the next hours. I have no recollection of it what so ever until I awoke in the belfry the next day and let myself drop to the ground.

I have never tried to hide my wish of dying. This was the day I first tried actively to make that happen. The day I decided that I wanted it to happen by my own hands.

As I am writing this, it won't come as a surprise to any of you that I failed. Whatever happened the next couple of days are as defuse to me as what happened the hours before. I woke up in Mori's care and stayed there for a very long time. He told me during that time, that I did not need to worry about Father anymore, and later told me that he was dead. Clearly, he was wrong.

One thing that both Father and Mori both had in common, was the fact that their goal was to make me unable to feel anything. Not physically (far from it), but emotionally. This is the reason I am writing this. Because as much as (this is hard for me to even write) I know I have overcome, the part of real emotion is one thing that I can not...

I'm sorry. I just don't know. I can't.

(Chuuya is threatening me with releasing a video of me while I was going through puberty online if I don't leave that last part, and I just realized that severe self-consciousness is a feeling I have gotten back).

The Port Mafia trained me to be a numb pawn purely made for withstanding torture without giving in, and killing. That is my design. What I am. Or was. I don't know.

That leaves me to address what happened the night I was injured, when this whole mess started.

During the night (I actually do sleep sometimes), a letter was slid through the crack under the door of my room at the dorms. If you want to see it, you can, but in short terms, it said that he was back, and wanted me to come back to him. I don't know what made me go- the feeling of terror I guess (another feeling I guess still lingers). So I did. I was instructed to go to the belfry, so I also did. I blacked out, and I didn't understand what had actually happened until that day we were all in Shinja. He had used his power, and as it took the form of myself at ten years old- I did get scared. I didn't think it was real, which was my mistake.

I told everyone that I was pushed off the tower, which I was, technically. I pushed myself off. I don't know if that counts as another suicide attempt, but that is what happened.

…leave it to Dazai to be a suicidal maniac while trying to survive an attempted murder on himself, committed by himself.

And I think you all kinda know what's been going on after that. Except that- yeah, I did know what Mori was planning. I also knew that Chuuya was in on it. But don't tell Chuuya.

(Chuuya just hit me).

(and he told me not to write that, so I did). Fuck you, Chuuya.

I'm going to finish this off with a request that the contents of this letter are never to be read out loud.

Whoever within the Agency that wants to read it can read it, but after that, it is to be burned and never spoken of again. I don't want to know who reads it, and I don't want to see traces of its content in any of your eyes. I'm still shitty-Dazai, bandage-waisting-device, the office slacker and an annoying piece of shit.

I hope this answers all of your questions, Kunikida. This is the best answer I could make of 'what the fuck?'

Within the next hour that Kunikida read Dazai's letter, he stood by his bedside. Dazai was apprehensive, as the stern man walked steadily to his side.

The first time Kunikida actually believed that Dazai relaxed, was the first time he ever hugged him. "Dazai, you are so, so, so wrong. You feel plenty. I know you don't understand it, but you do. You are a good human being."

Somehow, Dazai did believe it. Even if it wasn't true, really. But, if Kunikida believed it- he wouldn't prove him otherwise.

#bungou stray dogs #boy in the belfry #part 14 #fanfic #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #kunikida doppo

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