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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it.

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support.

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed.

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me.

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you?

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable.

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts.

— Dismissed.

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want.

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem.

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric.

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances.

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect.

— Sir? Is everything alright?

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator.

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t.

— I thought you’d heard me the first time.

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now?

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away?

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja?

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you.

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow.

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable.

— You forgot the milk.

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk.

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics.

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty.

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir.

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here.

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office.

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise.

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen.

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay.

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees.

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already.

— Ja. Bra is next.

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger.

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though.

— Braves Mädchen…good girl.

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target.

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples.

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window.

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen?

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you.

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life.

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation.

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel?

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language.

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him.

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest.

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop.

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide.

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges.

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat.

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created.

— How do you feel?

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less.

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles.

— My pleasure, Schatzen.

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain.

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all.

#cod #yandere konig #konig x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #yandere x reader #konig #konig x you

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peppertoastuniverse · 3 months ago

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more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 3: green tea

contents: gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, swearing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, satoru being down bad and not knowing it yet, satoru not being good at feelings summary: after trying to cheer you up after a bad day, gojo starts to wonder what these growing new feelings towards you mean.

wc: 2.5k

oh no. were you crying? did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm. he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

you will yourself to unclench your jaw as you rustle into your pockets to fish out your loose change. today was just not your day – after a week of decent sleep you had your first setback in the form of a vivid nightmare that frustratingly did not allow to you go back to sleep. sighing, you add some coins into the machine and press the buttons on the right side to select your favourite bottle of green tea.

grinding your teeth while you shake off the residual panic that’s rooted within your subconscious waiting at the vending machine for your drink to dispense. you were making progress – the nightmares weren’t happening as frequently but you were getting frustrated at your slow progress. sure, other students had nightmares but never as bad as yours were. were you that weak that you couldn’t fight off your own imagination? if only you had moved quicker, fought harder … maybe everyone wouldn’t have died and you –

you shook your head at imposing thoughts and impatiently rubbed your temple to calm down the consistent migraine you had. at least the green tea would awaken your drained head and provide some relief from your racing thoughts. you breath hitches as you watch in slow motion as your bottle of green gets jams against the glass of the vending machine.

you blink, biting your lip. luck was not on your side today.

you sighed heavily, feeling tears at your waterline. oh god, you were going to cry. okay, okay. that’s okay, you just needed to recollect yourself, right? no biggie, it happens, it’s not the end of the worl–

“ooooooh fuck, babe that’s unlucky,” says a sing song voice from behind you.

not this, not now, not gojo.

you unfortunately hear his cheeky smile before you see him. if you were having a bad day and satoru gojo showed up, it was just about to get worse. creeping into your peripheral vision you see messy white hair, dark sunglasses and an infuriating grin. if you turned around you weren’t sure if you were going to yell at him or burst into tears, so you clenched your fists, shut your eyes and hoped he got the hint to leave you alone. you at least hoped that geto was with him, at least if his trainer was there the blue eye beast would be more tolerable.

but luck was not on your side, only hearing one set of foot steps drawing closer and closer, you hold back an audible groan. you shut your eyes tighter around the sound of his voice, hoping that the darkness would smoother his presence. if you cried here – in front of him – you would die of embarrassment. you knew that he would never let you live it down. he still teased you that time you cried when you ate something too spicy after a mission with ieri and geto 4 months ago.

“- last time, it took like 6 colas to unlodge my original cola from this piece of shit. suguru practically died laughing. this one’s the worst,” he said banging his fist on the side of the vending machine hopelessly. “ya gotta go to the one near the gym, babe! that one is waaaaay newer and better stocked too, but i mean shoko keeps hogging all the strawberry milk. i mean… i guess– we could also just break on the vending machine if-“

yikes. how long had he been talking?

you sigh and finally open your eyes to find him animatedly talking, hand on his hip, other hand on his chin, looking closely into the machine - nose almost touching the glass - trying to figure out a plan to get your bottle of green tea out. if you were stronger or if you had less pride you’d admit that it was almost endearing.

“- or I could- hey? babe? how come you never listen to me???” gojo turns to look at your vacant expression, his lower lip jutting out exaggeratedly, blue eyes burning bright with a tinge of annoyance.

shit, he caught you.

you sigh trying to drain the increasing flow of water in your eyes. “im just having a bad day, gojo. sorry,” you say sheepishly.

gojo eyes widen to take in your appearance, you slightly hunched shoulders, cheeks flushed at being caught. wait.. were your eyes more watery than usual? rims with a tinge of red, eyebrows downcast, you were fidgeting with your fingers unable to look at him in the eye. something explodes in gojo. did.. did he make you upset?

oh no.

the thought of him being the cause of your sadness almost made him want to throw up. he did not like this at all. but.. why was he feeling this way? maybe he needed a cold drink too. or- or maybe.. was it the tea that was the cause of your reaction? oh god, did he have to fight a bottle of green tea? he was one of the strongest he could do it; he’d definitely break the machine in half to get it for you, he would if that’s what you wanted. is that what you wanted? hell, he’d buy you green tea everyday - he’d buy out every store in Tokyo for you if it meant you’d smile.

he was a good friend - he’d do the same for Suguru or shoko, right? he just wanted you to be happy. but when you turn your back to him, gearing up to make an escape, he feels something else drop in his stomach.

“hey - hey it’s okay! i’m not mad, i swear,” he says moving closer to you, awkwardly bumping your shoulder with his.

perhaps it was the combination of his unusual sweetness and the acknowledgment of your fragile state, you feel your eyes grow misty once more. why was he so infuriating? you didn’t want to deal with him, you didn’t want to hear his taunts or his obnoxious comments. you didn’t have the headspace to come up with a witty response or to roll your eyes at him right now. but luck was not on your side today.

attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment from him seeing your threatening tears fall, you begrudgingly lean your forehead gojo’s shoulder, nose facing his arm conveniently hiding your face. why did embarrassing moments always happen when he was around? you hated it but the need to hide, to disappear was far greater. you sniff softly.

realisation widens his blue eyes. oh no.

were you crying? did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm.

he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

c’mon keep it together. gojo can’t see you like this. “i-is this about the green tea- like it’s not your fault! the machine does that all the time, you didn’t break it or anything! it’s just like – “ “c-can you just.. just shut up for a sec.. please,” the weariness and fatigue coating your words. you sniff, fully succumbing to your bad day, hands moving quickly to rub the tears that lightly fall from your heavy eyes. gojo immediately quiets – a rare sight. fidgeting with his hands, he’s at a loss for what to do. you’re so close, so willingly close to him. your skin is comfortably warm and he’s surprised at how pleased he is that you’ve chosen to get close to him.

he raises his hand and pats your head as he listens to your breathing, trying to offer some semblance of comfort to you even if he knew that you wouldn’t fully accept it from him.

your eyes shut, unconsciously you lean into his soft touch. it felt nice, almost reassuring. “..what’s going on, babe?” he asks quietly, not wanting to upset you more than you already were.

“im.. im not babe.” he hears you muffle against his shoulder, voice still raspy with an abundance of unshed tears. “ and .. my head isn't for patting.”

gojo snorts and makes a point of fluffing your hair to your annoyance. “yes, you are,” he mumbles, uncharacteristically gentle, his hand stilling on top of your head.

“are you… are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice. this new sense of helplessness from you was strange to him. even that night when you made udon together, you were out of it but you were still composed albeit exhausted. you’ve always had a bit of fight, but today your meekness and defeated tone started to make him worry.

“i.. i’m just…” you say as you struggle to find the words, unwilling yourself to vocalize your weakness to him. “..i’m not sleeping well," you put simply.

“how come?” he takes his large hand off of your head, instead moving to unconsciously play with a lock of your hair.

“… thinking too much, i guess.” fragile voice threatening to crack. you clear your throat swiftly. “i’ll be fine.”

gojo’s hand settles behind your neck, his warm hands offering a strange and new comfort. he stares at you with a look that you don’t understand, his blue eyes shining. was it understanding or knowing gojo.. pity?

you flush. you detach yourself from him and turn your back swiftly to hide yourself from him. hopefully you’d disappear if he didn’t look at you.

“y’know you don’t have to do that, right?”

you turn slightly angle your head to look back at him with a questioning stare. what is he getting at? “well.. you always hide.“ he states plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you don’t have to hide with me.”

you blink, red rimmed eyes not looking at his face, instead choosing to focus on the ground beneath him. you weren’t used to gojo being like this towards you, but maybe –

“..and ‘member, babe? six eyes i’ll catch it anyway, so don’t even bother trying- ” yeah he ruins everything. you shoot him the most murderous look you could muster.

getting the hint, he backtracks quickly “..uhhh I just mean, i'm – we’re here for you, you know? shoko, suguru and me. but since i’m the best -“ “nope. you’re at the bottom of that list.”

“wha- the bottom?” he gapes at you disbelievingly, hand over his quickly beating heart. “nuh uh! wait whose at the top then?! don’t tell me that it’s sug-“

you chuckle at his playfulness, you found amusement in seeing him all worked up. his eyes would blaze brightly, slender nose scrunched up, plump lips sculpting into a pout.. he was ridiculous. tilting your head up, your eyes finally meeting blue.

there was so much you wanted to say to him, but you settled on something that nicely encompassed everything:

“you’re so dumb, gojo.”

gojo slowly blows air out of his nose, he swallows his whines and instead pouts slightly at your comment. good this was good, if you were being mean to him then things were getting better - you were feeling better. calling your name he gestures you closer to the vending machine. you follow slowly, unsure of his intent. he inches closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off his lanky frame and the fresh smell of his shampoo.

did this guy know the concept of personal space? why was he so close?

“i’ll get your tea out for you. i can blue the machine if you want! or-or I can –” he says with an easy grin.

your cheeks twitch up, threatening to smile. “you’d blow up my drink then you idiot,” you say voice infinitesimally stronger now, tone more playful.

“yeah, but if i were you i’d want revenge!”

“what, on the machine?” your eyes roll before looking down at your green tea bottle still hopelessly stuck. just like you were.

“dude of course! the bastard stole your green tea! let’s fuck it up!” his eyebrows wiggle, bright blue laced with mischief.

you snort. “you’re crazy, gojo. if you want to burn some energy go spar with suguru!”

“what, him?” his nose wrinkles at your first name basis with his best friend – and not him. “why ask him when you’re here already? but y’know, i feel like we’d make a good team don’t ya think? we could do some damage together!” if you didn’t want to tell him exactly what was going on, he could take your mind off whatever is making you upset, it’d be a win. and he always wins.

“i’m not fighting the vending machine.” you deadpan, fingers coming to pinch your nose bridge, exasperation eclipsing sadness.

“what, babe? you don’t think I’d win???” gojo incredulously whines.

“are you seriously asking me that question right now?”

“all im hearing is that you don’t think i’d win against a cheating vending machine!!” gojo huffs dramatically, crossing his arms and turning away from you.

you fully laugh. his ears perk up happily at the noise, he bounces on his feet while mentally patting himself on the back. he made you laugh – perhaps luck was on his side today.

he claps his hands suddenly. “right then babe, let’s go!” gojo practically shouts. giddy from his win, gojo quickly grabs your wrist and drags you behind him, the pathetic bottle of green tea forgotten still suspended, leaning on the glass. your eyes widen as you feel the warmth of his hand around your wrist.

“he–gojo! HEY! where are we going?! gojo, slow down, why are we running?!” you ask jogging to keep up with his long stride. "hey!" you sharply shake wrist connected to him to get his attention. “we’re going – oh sorry!” he turns his head, white hair catching the light as he notices your increased pace, he slows down to accommodate your shorter stride. “we’re going to the convenience store to get some green tea, duh. oh my god, can we get some cake too? oooOOOHhH, let’s get the new strawberry cream cake they have! can we??”

“okay, but you’re paying.” you say amused at his excitement. gojo grins happily, “you think I’d let you pay? c’mon!” shaking both of his hands excitedly, jostling your whole arm when he holds your wrist.

“you can let go now, gojo…” you say, barely noting the way that his grip on you grows a little tighter.

gojo blinks as he hesitantly drops your wrist. quickly recovering, gojo exclaims, “awwwwwww, i thought we were just starting to get alon -” offering you a teasing smile.

“oh my god, let’s just go.” rolling your eyes. taking large strides to walk past him before turning back in a huff annoyed to see that he wasn't following you.

you sigh dramatically, “I’m going by myself if you don’t –“ he quickly falls in line with your steps. “im coming, im coming! jeez babe, you’re so demand–“ you slap his arm sharply, eyes blazing, all previous sadness forgotten, suspended for the time being. gojo laughs loudly at your expression.

gojo’s day just got better and judging by the pep in your step, he smiles to think that yours did too.

A/N: i loooooove him, he's such a lil puppy here. -- head image credit: unknown! credit goes to the rightful artists dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

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phecdasolar · 3 months ago

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Tumblr I need your help I am in dire need of feral/unhinged Disaster Twins fics pleaseeee (and maybe Mikey as a bonus) I’m just in love with the idea of Raph being the impulse control for once with this iteration, and just the second he’s out of commission the other three go insane.

Weapons of War, Bioengineered Killing Machines, Manufactured Supersoldiers Rottmnt turtles my BELOVEDS

And maybe just like,,, set Leo and Donnie loose on one of the other dimensions and have them absolutely horrifically annihilate their counterparts’ villains while they watch on in horror

(B.E.A.S.T. was SUCH a good fic you guys oh my GOSH go read it I’m begging you-)

I NEED to have it addressed in fic form that the Rise turtles are fundamentally different than all their other counterparts, because their counterparts? They were accidents. Just a couple of turtles splashed with mutagen and oh look now they’re people but Green. (Huge oversimplification I’m aware but hear me out okay-)

But the Rise boys were created. They were specifically designed to be weapons of mass destruction. They were built with the intent to cause harm which means they were bioengineered to be stronger, smarter(?), faster, to heal quicker, to have the capacity to take hard hits while dishing out even harder ones, they were literally forged with a purpose to kill.

Add on their mystic powers? Then their unlocked Ninpo? You can’t honestly tell me that these four aren’t the strongest and potentially deadliest version of themselves out there.

Yes they still had to learn things, as did the other iterations, they weren’t immediately good (that much is obvious, like c’mon it’s IN the name) but I don’t think the other iterations possess the same instincts as these guys do. They’re just so. Unhinged. They’ve all had their moments in the show I think where it’s obvious they’re not really,,, stable. I love them.

In a plain fists only, maybe weapons, no powers fight, I do think some of the other iterations would win, but purely because they have way more experience than these guys do. (If I did any crossovers I’d say 2003 and 2012 are definitely older than these guys, especially if we’re basing this at the end of their shows) But put them against each other when they’re still at the same level? Rise is whooping butt, I know where I’m placing my bets. It’s called RISE of the TMNT for a reasonnnnnn they’re not there yet but they WILL BE, and as of the end of s2 and the movie I say they’re finally THERE.

I have no idea how this turned into a headcanon rant this was just supposed to be me asking for fic recs hsgdjdjdk it’s almost 3 am tho so whatever sorry if none or some of this is incoherent o7 o/

Editing this with a list of fics I have been graciously recommended below the cut:

Firefight by remrose [42/43 chapters 208k words] (edit: JUST FINISHED READING ch38-42 WATCH ME BAWL MY EYES OUT I was rotating them in my brain all morning at work) less on the feral side, more on the gut-wrenching angst side, still Disaster Twins and still super good

In Which Donnie and Leo Make Themselves Everyone Else's Problem in an NYC That Isn't Even Their Own by YukiSkyes [7/? chapters, 18k words] the CLASSIC “the Disaster Twins are unapologetically causing chaos” fic, always a delight to read

The Lemon Leak by TurtleSoupSwimmer [27/37 chapters, 143k words] I’m being told it’s very true to the theme here, and it’s very angsty, a suspenseful psychological thriller, and will make you scream at your phone. I for one am very intrigued

Eschatology by aenor_llelo, Alderous, ConcoctionsFromHell, izziel_galaxy, Jaybird314, Otakuforlife19, and Rocket999 [17/17 chapters, 344k words] “HEAVY on the boys being biologically engineered to destroy the world, it also delves into so much character building and worldbuilding that we never got in canon, and it gives even super minor characters the chance to shine” Sounds intriguing, AND it’s a BNHA crossover which I am a big fan of :D

The Hunter’s Bible also by TurtleSoupSwimmer [2/2 chapters, 15k words] Rated Mature, contains themes of SA and c@nnibalism so PLEASE keep that in mind!! Not a fic for the faint of heart this is a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! The SA is only attempted, and never shown, only implied, and it’s only in ch 1, but the other stuff is fairly descriptive and takes place in ch 2. All that being said, flipping UNHINGED, just about lost my mind in ch 2, it was entertaining in a surreal kinda way if you get what I mean. Funky little feral creatures

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kooktrash · 2 years ago

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fighting heart | jeon jungkook au

summary: never living a life of luxury, Jungkook does what he has to do to make ends-meet. right now that means fighting in underground clubs, getting beat black and blue until he wins. he knows there’s a better life out there for him but he never let himself think about it. until you came along and suddenly a weight is being lifted off his shoulders letting you through his guarded walls. you’re everything he needed and you make him want to fight for more.

warnings: 15k words. smut. angst. boxer!jk x curvy,f!reader. violence [fight scenes]. mentions of blöod. rich y/n. degradation of y/n [a few times] but not by jk. mentions of wounds. y/n got some mommy milkers lowkey. big hips that jk likes t—. unprotected. fingering. handjob. missionary. sweet. y/n is whipped but Jk is whippeder. jin is kinda sketchy kinda not. tw: harmful language, physical violence, anatomical injuries. illegal fight club. gambling.

No where he went could he find silence. Rattling cages, loud chants and even bottles breaking. The room he was currently in was poorly lit. And he could barely see the damage that has been done. The room was in hues of green with dirty white tile showers and sinks with rust on them. The ground was covered in stains of old blood that didn’t wash away from the polished cement. Hanging above his head were fluorescent making hissing noises like the glass would soon burst into flames and shatter across the floor. They were flickering too, he could see them clearly through the dirty mirror he was staring at himself through.

He was a mess himself and he had no clue where to start. His hair was drenched in sweaty locks sticking to his face in strange whimsical lines. There was blood dripping down over his brow piercing somewhere on his hair line but he couldn’t see it clearly yet. There was a large red mark on his rib cages but other than those couple injuries he considered himself pretty clean.

The water pressure from the faucet was poor and when he first turned it on the water had a brown tint to it. He let it run over his wet rag squeezing out the excess before cleaning the blood and sweat off his face. He leaned forward and splashed water onto his face and rubbed some into his hair to at least rinse his sweaty hair a little bit. From behind him he could hear the swinging doors part ways as someone walked in with a huge grin on their face. He waved a stack of papers in his hand smacking it against the palm of his other hand, business suit and shoes sticking out from this room like a sore thumb. His hair was slipped back in a nice style and he looked better than Jungkook did at the moment.

“You killed it out there,” Kim Seokjin said as he leaned against the counter on the wall, staring at Jungkook’s back and the red mark on his side, “He got a few hits in it seems.” As he said that he moved to stand again walking over to the ice machine next to the broken paper towel dispenser. He took the big ziploc bags off the machine and began putting ice into one of the bags. He took plastic wrap with him as he walked over to Jungkook and motioned for the guy to lift his arm.

“Don’t worry kid, your cut is good today,” Jin said, pressing the ice bag to Jungkook’s injured side before bringing the wrap over it and pulling it around his torso to hold the bag down. Jungkook just looked at the drop of blood still leaking from the cut on his forehead making him reach out for his rag again. The sink had a new stain of blood on it from where his rag had been running under the water. He looked at Jin through the mirror, “How much?”

Jin smiled, “Little more than a grand but I got a few more investors out there looking to see another fight. You’ll get there once you focus fully on training.”

“I’m not a fighter,” Jungkook grumbled as he turned quickly once Jin finished up. There was a small limp to his step as he walked to his gym bag looking for clothes to change into. Jin shook his head in disbelief, “Not a fighter? Then tell me what I just watched tonight.”

“I told you this already. I’m not interested in doing anything more than a couple fights here and there,” Jungkook said putting on a worn out, oversized gray t-shirt. Jin groaned in frustration, “I don’t get why you’re so against it. You can make much more money if we go big. You’ll be rich you know? I can already see your fights on pay-per-view. Just think about the money, that’s why you’re doing this aren’t you? Think about your family.”

“I am thinking about my family, that’s why I’m saying no,” Jungkook told him, changing into some black sweats and throwing a hoodie on. The bag of ice was slowly melting but at this point he didn’t care about how ridiculous he looked, “They’d kill me if they knew I was fighting again, I’m sorry man, but no.”

He took his cut of the money from Jin, slipping his hood over his head and hoisting his gym bag on his shoulder, “Call me.”

His leg ached making his entire walk out of the underground club to his car all the more slow. His car lights blinked as it unlocked and he chucked his bag in the backseat finally getting in and starting the engine. Jungkook’s neighborhood was far from being nice but it’s location close to busy streets made night life more active. He got to his apartment shortly after, sirens going off just outside his window where he could see flashing lights and the tops of old buildings.

Despite how late it was, and his need to be alone he couldn’t have that. Not when his phone began ringing. He winced, reaching into his pocket and taking it out. Once he saw the caller ID he debated ignoring it. Now isn’t the time for it when he’s got a pretty girl in his bed telling him you don’t want to go home. But he answered anyway, “Hello?”

“Hi honey, I know it’s late but um,” his mother stuttered, he could practically picture her fidgeting, “We’re behind on rent again. I wouldn’t be coming to you if I didn’t need to.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, it was the same thing over and over every single time. He was in his bathroom now, pressing his phone to his ear, “When is it due?”

“Well it was due a couple days ago—“ “And what happened to what I sent you the other day?” Jungkook asked.

“Your father needed it for a, well, uh, I can’t remember but you’re my son, you’re more reliable than anyone else,” his mother said, making him roll his eyes. “So why’d you wait till now to tell me? Should I call your landlord and see how long it’s been overdue?”

“Yah, don’t be like that,” his mother begged, “You’re supposed to help your parents. That’s why you moved wasn’t it? Why are you even up so late? What have you been doing? Who were you with? Were you fighti—“

“I’m hanging up. I’ll send the money in the morning,” with a tired sigh he ended the call wincing once more when he reached up for the handle to his medicine cabinet.

His small rectangular window was his only source of light in the bathroom as he rummaged through his medicine cabinet but his first aid kit was empty. With a tired grunt he closed it back up and left looking around for his things pulling the melted ice bag away that was now just a puddle of water. He grabbed his wallet and keys before leaving his apartment once more, this time by foot.

After a five minute walk he found himself in front of a familiar convenience store and he went in, immediately going to the medical section. He probably shouldn’t be walking around with so much money on him but it was too late to worry about that.

“Oh my god hurry up, I’m literally scared for my life,” A girl squealed a couple aisles down and Jungkook tried to ignore her, “We should’ve just gotten it delivered.”

“And if they didn’t have what I wanted?” Another voice piped in, slightly more bearable than the previous one but with the same tone, “Besides everyone can hear you, y’know?” As if he’d been the one spoken to he looked up from under his hood, eyes softening for a fraction of a second as they met your stare. He was the first to look away once he caught his reflection on the fridge doors behind you filled with alcohol. There was a line of red down his forehead again and it made him duck down under the aisle top and look for what he needed.

“I don’t care who hears me, just get a bottle and let’s go. Jimin’s waiting,” The high pitched voice spoke again and Jungkook found a box of wound closure band-aids, pain killers, and icy/hot patches. You rolled your eyes at her looking over to the guy in the hoodie again, there was a red stain on his forehead that you noticed right away. A little after Jungkook found himself standing behind you in line. He didn’t expect to find such a sight in front of him. You were in a hot pink mini skirt and a white blouse that matched your heels. Your legs weren’t super long but your thighs were wider and so were your hips. It made the fabric of your skirt hug your curves in the best way possible.

You and your friend finished up with the cashier and he found himself twisting a lock of hair over the bleeding cut on his forehead to hide it. He could feel your eyes follow him for a moment as you left at that and he moved forward to the counter.

That night he healed his wounds in his studio apartment under the moonlight while you got in the back of a Porsche for a night drinking.

There was a stiffness in the air, like all the poise and class was just an act that was hard to maintain. At least that’s what Jungkook thought because as he looked around not a single person seemed to be what they tried so hard to appear. Now, he’ll admit he’s probably the most out of place here but that didn’t mean he couldn’t notice things. For instance, his partner wore an expensive suit with a shiny Rolex that demanded the attention of everyone in the room. Yet he still seemed gentle, far from intimidating which is what he’s so poorly tried to portray. A hand landed on his shoulder blade giving him a little shake as the man spoke, “Lighten up Jungkook, this is for you. You made me good money last week. Think of this as a sign of my appreciation.”

“Is that what this is?” Jungkook asked looking around the lounge room with expensive alcohol in crystal glasses and 100,000$ leather seats. He started to fix the cuff of his black button-up as he looked around some more. The men in here were either his age or way older, all in designer suits and watches. All the women were young, beautiful, lavished.

Just like the one who crossed his line of sight in a black, shimmery dress that was barely around mid-thigh. A silver, diamond charm bracelet on the wrist that matched every piece of jewelry on your body—from what he can see. You were far across from him, somewhere off with a group he couldn’t see well and the dim light applying a glow to you in particular. And yet he recognized you right away as the person from the store last night.

“I’ve treated you to dinner, I figured I might as well treat you to drinks too,” Seokjin said looking up from his phone just as Jungkook’s eyes snapped back to him, no longer focusing on the stranger. He released a sigh, “Alright, I want to talk about business. There’s another match this weekend. Two fights and a couple grand in your pocket. It’s short notice and you need time to recover but I was hoping to convince you.”

“Against who?” Jungkook asked tipping his glass of scotch back before placing it down on the small glass table between them two. Jin gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, “Some new kid and Park Seungmin. What do you say? Do I get it set?”

“Ask me again after a few drinks,” Jungkook said. Music played behind them but not nearly as loud as a regular night club’s and there was a faint smell of cigar. He hardly paid attention to whatever other small talk the two of them made, he was too tired to say anything on his own. He hadn’t even wanted to come out with Jin at first. It’s not that he didn’t like the guy. He did. The problem was that he could not understand why Jin would want to be a part of the kind of life Jungkook has involved himself in. Kim Seokjin came from money, the good kind of money.

It meant he’s never had to worry about food in his stomach or if the electricity would be cut off. He’s never lied about christmas presents he never recieved or about not having lunch money. He’s grown in gated communities and trips abroad for the holidays. There’s no reason for him to be making dirty money just because he could. Jungkook didn’t hate him, he just couldn’t never fully trust that Jin had his best interest in mind. All he knows is that he’s the only one Jungkook can go to at the moment and he’s going to see how far he can get. The downside was that Jin wanted him to go the professional route. He wants to mentor him and get him in more official rings that could be broadcasted. His boxing was good, Jin saw potential so he badgered Jungkook about it nonstop. He didn’t listen though, he was fine fixing cars and had no intention in being a professional fighter.

If he had paid more attention to Seokjin instead of the marks on his hands he might have noticed the way Jin casually looked around the lounge room. He seemed stuck on someone behind him, brows furrowed together in concentration before his eyes relaxed momentarily. He looked back to Jungkook, “I’ll be right back. I think I see someone I know.”

Jungkook didn’t bother responding, merely waving him off as he looked down at his phone. The money he just earned from his last match was enough to send to his parents but he still needs more for rent and utilities. His job won’t pay him till the day after rent is due and he can’t ask for another extension. If he wants to cover the rest he’ll have to do the fights Jin asked of him. He’s still a little sore from the last fight but if he tries to get back on training he should be fine.

“Look at all the space we have, just take a seat,” Jin said finally making Jungkook look up as three people were filing into the booth. He noticed right away when you were making your way into the rounded booth pretty much inching closer to him. He’ll admit, up close you’re even more beautiful than he thought when he looked at you from afar. Now he can see your features better than he had at the store. What are the chances that he ran into a random stranger twice? And one he thought about on his walk home from the store as a short distraction?

You didn’t shy away from looking him over as you finally sat down just a few inches away from him. Jin flashed him a smile, “Jungkook these are some friends of mine. This is Taehyung, Jia and Y/n. Everyone meet Jungkook.”

Jin didn’t give much time for introductions when he waved over a server and ordered more drinks for the table. Jungkook took his chance to get a look at you again and for the first time that night, your eyes met his. He was the first to crack even the smallest hint of a smile. You had a pretty face, your cheeks slightly rounded but your eyes were what drew him in. He likes the curve of your waist and the way your thighs look soft to the touch. Your dress had been a little higher from the back than the front and he understood why. You were so physically attractive to him. You had wider hips and a slight tummy pouch. The top of your dress was easily filled out by your chest which spilled slightly from the top. Your collarbone still seemed to protrude and a diamond necklace with your name engraved rested prettily on it. Y/n, he remembers the girl next to you saying it the other night.

“So what are you guys doing here? Don’t you have better places to drink at on a Saturday?” Jin asked once drinks came and Jungkook looked over to where the conversation was. Taehyung gave a shrug of his shoulders looking to his two friends, “Just wanted to get a few good drinks in before going out. Are you two free? Want to come with?”

Jin shared a look with Jungkook, “Yeah? Let some stress out.” He wasn’t sure though, he’s already over exerted himself being out with Jin but at the same time now that it’s been brought up he wouldn’t mind. There was a shift on his side and suddenly you were leaning forward to look at his face.

“I agree, if you’re stressed then maybe you should come have drinks with us,” you said with a bright smile. That convinced him way too easily and before he knew it, he was leaving with the rest of you to a club. He stood behind you in line and when you were all inside he was at the bar right there with you.

“You look familiar,” you said bluntly turning away from the bar counter to look at him while your drinks were made. It caught him off guard at first before saying, “You do too.” Your smile was softer now but just as pretty and you batted your lashes, “I know where I’ve seen you.”

“Where?” Jungkook wanted to see if you actually did recognize him or if he just looked familiar to someone else you’ve seen. You pointed a finger at him, “The store. You were dressed all emo and stuff.”

“I was just wearing dark colors,” What you said made him smile a little before adding in, “But yes, I recognize you too. You were wearing pink.”

“Oh you even remember what i had been wearing? Was it because you liked it or because you liked me?”

“Can I say both?” Jungkook said with a lighter tone now. He found you attractive, alluring even, despite your snobbish tone. Your eyes narrowed in interest and you let your eyes travel from the faded scar on his forehead to the belt holding his jeans up. He was attractive in a way you couldn’t explain. An absolutely beautiful intimidating man.“I thought I knew all of Jinnie’s friends, how come I don’t know you?” You asked taking your drinks from the bartender.

He gave a small shrug, “I wouldn’t say we’re close, more like acquaintances. How do you know him?”

“Family friends.” “All of you?” You gave a nod of your head taking a sip from your drink just as he did. You looked down at the hand he had on the bar too. It was covered in ink and rings on his pretty fingers but the more you looked the more you saw. It included red knuckles with faded purple and brown marks like bruises. Jungkook noticed right away where your attention had drifted and he opted for moving his hand off and keeping it to his side.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked suddenly trying to draw attention away from his hand and also speak some truth at the moment, “I think you’re beautiful.”

So he found himself closer to you later on in the night. His hand had even made itself to your hips as you sat on the stool scooted close to his. The two of you had completely forgotten about the group you were supposed to be with but they didn’t even attempt to intervene. If anyone seemed hesitant it was only Taehyung and Jin just brushed his worries away. He knew you well and you liked the fun, he knew Jungkook needed some fun even if it’s just for one night.

Later on in the night the two of you disappeared into a cab. He was more hesitant than you were to initiate any sort of intimate contact. Even inside the club he only had an arm around you and when he offered to take you home he was only hoping to spend a little more time with you before asking for your number. He didn’t expect for you to be on him in the back of the cab. Your lips were on his and he was kissing back eagerly, uncaring for the way the cab driver looked back at you.

“Just one address or two?” The driver asked as you pressed a kiss against Jungkook’s jaw leaving him breathless. His hand was on your curved back keeping you close as he barely had a chance to look over to the driver. You beat him to it when you pulled away for a quick second to mutter, “One address,” and went back to kissing him. He wasn’t complaining, he hasn’t done this in a while.

With work and all the matches he’s been in on top of training, he doesn’t have much time to go out and meet people who weren’t drunk placing bets on him. Even the women at the fights were drunk, a little more sleazy, not as clean and definitely didn’t have skin as soft as yours. His other hand found it’s way to your thigh, fingernails digging into the plump skin and he wanted to do more than just touch with his hands.

Jungkook’s not sure how it happened but they ended up at his place instead of yours, maybe because it was closer to the club or maybe because he gave it to the man first. Either way it was too late to argue about it when you were already urging him to get out. He quickly paid for the cab and was helping you, kissing you one last time as the cab drove off. He smiled sweetly, “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Okay with what?” You asked wrapping your arms around his mid section leaning into him when his arms went around your waist. He cleared his throat looking down at you slightly more concerned now, “With this, with me…”

You smiled, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You’re not even asking questions. Not about his bruises or cuts or red knuckles, “Besides, I like you so are you going to take me upstairs or am I just gonna stay out here.” Jungkook took your hand now dragging you behind him inside his building trying not to get your expression. He didn’t want to see how you’d feel about his clearly run down apartment. Even this late at night there were a few tenants just sitting around on the stairs. He moved you in front of him staying close behind you to avoid you being stared at by some creep from the back. Once you were in his dark apartment it was immediate.

You didn’t even look around the place, letting him lead you to creaky twin sized bed he called his own and kissed him roughly, hands pulling at his shirt immediately as he made himself comfortable sitting next to you. You were on your knees looking taller than him deepening the kiss with your tongue now and he was gladly kissing back just as hard. His hands found their way to your legs, squeezing once again at your meaty thighs that pressed against each other with no gap between. The fullness of your figure was so damn tempting and it had his fingers inching under your short dress.

When you didn’t seem to object to his touch he went ahead and let his hands circle around your hips to the back where he could feel a very small pair of panties covering very little. Like your thighs, your butt was squishy making his fingers sink into it as he felt you up and it had him groaning into your mouth in want. His mouth trailed down your jaw, sucking gently against your neck as his hands continued feeling you up, your dress already up and around your wide hips as he played with your underwear. A finger slipped under it holding it out as he let his hand feel underneath.

A breath caught in Jungkook’s throat when your hand was pressing against his thigh now, long nail barely grazing his leg moving closer and closer to his growing member. You seemed just as impatient as he did and it made him wonder how long it’s been for you too. He doubts it’s been as long as him. You took him by surprise when you started unbuttoning his jeans with one hand and with ease and he was helping you move them out of your way. Following your lead when your hand began to palm him over his briefs, he did the same.

You moaned softly into his mouth as his hand pressed against your slicked heat from behind with his arm around your waist pressing you into his side. His head was aligned with your heavy chest and when he leaned it against the silky fabric, he could feel the softness of your breasts. His free hand couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and feeling you better. You wore a thin, flimsy bralette that hadn’t even been enough to conceal your nipples throughout the night but it made it easier for him to feel you better. The weight of your breasts was heavy in his hand, flesh spilling between his large fingers and you were so damn soft, everywhere. It made him want to sink into you, press his face between them and just feel your warmth.

Your breath hitches as he circles your clit, sending small shocks throughout your body. He moved your underwear out of the way, revealing your perfect cunt to his fingers with no barrier. Just as your hand snuck under his briefs, his middle finger was running between your folds, slowly letting more into your tight snatch. Even down between your legs were you soft, just as plump and warm. Your hand held his cock now, almost fully hard and with a gentle stroke you felt him hardening even more. Finally his long finger sinks in just as the strap of your dress slipped off your shoulders exposing more of your breasts to him. Without thinking he tugged your bra down making your tits bulge out from on top even more, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

He was being honest as he kissed the plump flesh feeling it bounce along his tongue and he just wanted to take a nipple into his mouth and suck. You didn’t answer verbally but he could physically feel the light squeeze of his cock on an upstroke and he was groaning around your nipple. His face was still rubbing against your breasts as his middle finger pumped in and out of your wet cunt lathering it in more slick and he took the chance to sink another finger in. You gasp, your tits bouncing against his face and he let them rub over his face while simultaneously hitting that spongy pleasure spot in your tight walls, stroking it everytime his fingers sank back in. You were still on your knees on his bed and he was still holding you against his side as you jerked off his cock but he wanted more.

Fingers still inside your pussy, he began to stand not moving your hand off his dick as he lightly pushed you back to lie down. His hand left your folds from behind and slipped it between your thighs again from the front. His pace quickens, and he uses his weight to hold you down, twirling your thick buds with his tongue. You breathed heavily feeling the twitch of his member when your thumb ran over the slit in his tip over and over again.

Without thinking, and probably too rough, his hands were leaving your breasts and pussy to pull at the fabric of your dress. It’s been teasing him all night and he needed it gone, so that’s what he did. The fabric was no match for the rough yank he did on it making it tear open and he was harsh with the way he yanked it off your body groaning at the sight.

He stood taking his jeans and shirt off as you undid your bra kicking it off exposing large breasts to his hungry eyes. His hands run down your middle, the soft chub on your ribs and stomach sinking his finger in and he was staring down at you with awe, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You already said that, I want to know what you’ll do to show it to me,” you teased wiggling your hips when his hand went to pinch at them, squeezing and groaning at the feel. He could feel a bit of your hip bone but it was mostly covered in plumpness that made his mouth water. Your hips were good for squeezing and he wanted to take you. Suddenly, realization hit him like a truck.

“I—I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” you said already reaching between your bodies at his hard clock begging for attention, “As long as you’re clean and pull out.” He gave a brief nod of his head capturing your lips with his as you lined his dick up with your heat and did the honor of taking him. You moaned into each others mouth as he stopped at the ring of nerves that needed a bit more stretching. You were tight, he felt all the soft walls of your cunt squeeze his thick member as he sank in with a groan, squishing against you, breasts against his chest.

“Oh God,” you moaned against his lips at the first real thrust of his cock into your wet pussy and his hand was sliding down to grip your ass while the other was on your breasts. He squeezed both in time with a second thrust, still testing the waters before doing it again, quicker and rougher now.

His head rested against your neck, moaning your name softly, “So fucking beautiful, all of you, fuck Y/n.”

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled into your skin leaning down to take a fat tit into his mouth matching each lick of your nipple with a rough thrust. Suddenly he’s lifting himself up, hands leaving your sides to press against the bed on either side of your head. He looked down at your naked body licking his lips, slowly bringing his hips back before slamming into you with force that had your tits jiggling and his lips parted at the sight, doing it again so it could happen once more.

Jungkook lets out a long exhale as you continue to cry out his name making him work his lean hips, thrusting in and out of you with purpose.

“Jungkook,” you moaned, hands holding his sides as he fucks you, tight abdominal muscles flexing along with the veins leading to his dick all the way from his navel. The position only lasted a moment before he was laying his full weight on you again wanting to feel you pressed against him, body shaking along his.

“I’m so close,” you groaned when he gripped your ass, not being gentle in the way he squeezed, shaking it a bit and using it to fuck your pussy back into his cock, “Let me cum.”

“Fuck,” he slams himself into you feeling his entire body shudder but he was holding off, “Cum, fuck, cream my cock right now.”

“Oh God,” he groaned against your skin when you did just that, fingers curling as your release hit moaning beautifully into his ear and his body shook slightly. He was gentle but quick in the way he pulled out of you, your orgasm wavering as your slick leaked out of your folds. His cock was on your pubic bone now, spurts of creamy semen spilling onto you, covering you in his cum. His hand was on your knee for support but it was no use.

He was dead weight on top of you, but you don’t mind—you brush your fingers through his hair, giggling when you feel his soft lips kiss your breast, “You’re amazing.”

You felt his breathing begin to get uneven and you wrapped a leg around him continuing the brush of your fingers, caressing him since he seemed to need it. You held him in your arms as he clung to you. Now, you’ll admit, at this time you’d start getting your clothes again and find your things to leave. Maybe you would’ve already had a scheduled Uber but you weren’t doing any of that—and it wasn’t because he tore your dress in half. “You made me feel so good,” you whispered softly into his ear and it made him hum in appreciation, eyes shut slightly. He never realized how much tension he’d been holding onto without release until now that you held him.

You were naked and sticky, even sweaty, but that didn’t stop you two from snuggling after sex, his gentle lips leaving soft kisses along your neck tiredly as his eyes shut in relaxation. Like that, you both let sleep take over and you were warm in each other’s arms.

The sun shined brightly against your sleeping face. You squeezed your eyes shut some more but it did little to keep the light away. You decided to move, roll over and hide your face in one of your many pillows but as you tried to, you nearly fell. A yelp escaped your lips, face inches away from the floor as two arms caught you by the waist. Jungkook was half asleep but alert as he looked over your tired form. You fell back onto the twin sized bed pressed against Jungkook’s chest staring at your surroundings.

In better light and a clearer head you had a better chance to look around his apartment. It was smaller than you pictured when you were lying underneath him. You just didn’t realize it was this small. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been to a place that looked like this. His bedroom, kitchen and living room all in one space with ripped wallpaper and broken cabinets. Jungkook seemed to stiffen under you when he noticed where your mind was going.

Last night was… how should he put it without sounding so dramatic? He just felt very appreciated and not just his body but also the things he had to say. You paid very close attention to what he felt and it was more than anyone has in a while. Sure, the fighting gets him attention but not for anything good. It was abuse and exploitation. That made him hate himself but what he experienced last night was lively. He wouldn’t mind getting this feeling because of you again except you couldn’t be any more opposite and that’s what had him skeptical.

“You okay?” He asked suddenly, nervous because you have yet to say anything after your abrupt awakening and he’s itching to know what you think. His shabby apartment looked even worse than he imagined. You just gave a single nod and that made him anxious now, sliding a little out from under you trying not to pay attention to the way you were both still naked. He released a quiet sigh, “If you want to go home now, it’s okay, you can tell me.”

It was morning anyway, he’s not sure what he would expect differently. You seemed to snap out of your own thoughts turning as best as you could to lay on your stomach over him. He looked down at you with an expression you could only read as dejected, sullen or tired even. Your chest rests on his chest as you look up at him, “And what if I don’t want to go home yet?”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face when you ran your hand over his chest turning to look at him, “How about a shower together?”

You stared at the man in front of you expressionless, or well, you were trying to be. He, on the other hand, was open with you. A knowing smile on his face with brows raised in amusement. He was even leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to the right just slightly waiting for you to speak.

“You’re starting to creep me out,” You said with a roll of your eyes as you looked over the roof, city life thriving about sixty stories below you. Jin cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you had anything to say to me.”

“About?” You asked as the waitress came back with your food. You were seated across from Jin at some high end restaurant for lunch. It sat on the roof of some luxury hotel and it’s where you two decided to meet between your classes. You had a feeling you knew what this was about but you weren’t about to give in. A day and a half was spent in Jungkook’s presence. You didn’t even go to class the following day, instead you stayed in his apartment and did absolutely nothing.

“You’re a vixen, y’know? You sank your claws into Jungkook and got him, I applaud you,” Jin said making you roll your eyes again. “What are you talking about? You’ve got a crush on him or something?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been trying to get that guy to let loose but all he does is push every chance away,” Jin told you as he picked at his plate. Your eyes narrowed leaning forward against the table, “How do you two know each other, anyway? He didn’t really say.”

Jin sneered, “Of course he didn’t. He doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like what? No, don’t tell me,” you shook your head. You wanted to know because you were definitely interested. But was it your business? Jin smacked his tongue, “It’s nothing serious.”

“I’m his manager of sorts, but also an investor?” Jin said with a shrug taking a big bite, “He’s a boxer, like in the ring with glo—“

“I obviously know what a boxer is,” you said clearly annoyed with your older friend who just chuckled knowing he was getting under your skin. You were curious now, “Besides, what does it matter to you? You work in a law firm.”

Jin groaned as if he had a reason to be annoyed with you when clearly he didn’t, “I’ve got a few interests, alright? Sketchy? Maybe, but it is exciting. I met him a year ago when I was watching a boxing match. He was new and he was good, a lot of strength and control. I just have this idea that he can make it big and I can get him there. It’ll be a give and take. I already make good money off his fights from my cut and imagine what a bigger audience can do?”

“So what you’re saying is Jungkook… he makes money from boxing?” You asked and he just shook his head no. “No, well kinda? His family has a lot of debt—“

“Stop, stop talking,” you covered your ears suddenly, “I don’t want to hear about his private stuff unless it’s from him. I get it. You kinda work together?”

Jin rolled his eyes, “Yes but that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to know what transpired you to go with him the other night. I didn’t peg muscular, tatted, brooding men as your type.”

“I didn’t either,” you said honestly, “But I don’t know. I saw him one time before that at a store and he had been bleeding from his forehead. I think that’s why I was curious at first.”

“And now?” Jin asked making your brows furrow. “What do you mean now?”

He sighed, “I mean are you curious still? Jungkook is a good guy, great guy even but it wouldn’t work Y/n. Your parents would kill you if they found out you were seeing a guy like him. He’s not… he hasn’t had the same privileges as you and it just wouldn’t look good. He’s a great kid but he’s got real struggles that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Hypocrite much?” You asked with a tilt of your head, “Like you would understand those struggles more than me? Are you going to tell him this too or just me because I don’t think Jungkook would appreciate it.”

“Jungkook’s smart, I’m sure he understands why it wouldn’t work. You’ve been to his place I assume, you had some thoughts on it I know. But at the end of the day, I’m loyal to you as a friend more than Jungkook. I’ve known you since you were five and I’m looking out for your best interest.”

“I don’t need you to Jinnie,” you rolled your eyes as you pushed your finished plate away. He let the topic drop with a reluctant sigh. He really did appreciate Jungkook as a person and even as a friend of sort but at the end of the day… what they had never went beyond business. The dinner the other night was to discuss another tournament, what happened after was a spur of the moment. He had respect for Jungkook for what the kid has been through but that’s what makes him wary. He’s seen how mad he can get, how little he actually has to support himself and how battered his life was. You wouldn’t fit in anywhere and Jin cares about you too much to let you fall for someone like him.

“Besides, I’m seeing him later after class,” you said brightly. Jin couldn’t argue with you anymore, he just wanted you to know what he thought. He knew Jungkook was a good guy, he just didn’t think he was right for you. Suddenly you flashed him a bright smile, big puppy dog eyes and a bat of your lashes, “You’re treating me to lunch right?”

“You probably have more money than me Hotel Heiress,” Jin said with a scowl but you didn’t let up. Your bottom lip curling down, “But you invited me.”

“Aish,” he rolled his eyes at you as he took his wallet out, “You’re so annoying.” “Thank you Jinnie, you’re the best.”

He took you back to campus after lunch and you went to your last couple of classes. Taehyung waited for you outside your last class, “Jia and I want to go shopping, you coming?”

“No, Jungkook is waiting for me outside,” you told him reading over Jungkook’s text telling you where he was. Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “Jungkook? The guy from the other night? Don’t tell me you’re seeing him again.”

“Fine I won’t tell you.” “Y/n I’m serious, I don’t know him but the other night something seemed of—Y/n!”

“Bye!” You sang as you saw Jungkook’s black, tinted car. He was outside waiting for you and a smile spread across his face. He pulled you in for a hug, “Aren't you cold?”

“Shivering,” you said with trembling teeth and he helped you into his car ignoring the rise of your skirt. Once he was inside he kicked the heat up, “So where do we go?”

He was nervous. He hasn’t seen you in a couple days and now that it’s the weekend he’s not sure what he should do. Is this a date? Do you even want to date him? You didn’t ask him anything over the time you were at his place but he could tell you wanted to. Would you run away when you found out the extent of his struggles? You bit your bottom lip in thought, humming as you tried to think of something, “Lets go to my place.”

So he followed the directions to the other side of the city where he’d dropped you off just days ago. He only got to look at the outside of the skyscraper hotel with your last name displayed in metal letters under the hotel’s name. The inside was gorgeous, marble everywhere with white clay walls and curved edges that gave the hotel a seamless image. Even the furniture was the color of the walls and the only pop of colors were deep green and shades of brown. He let you drag him into the elevator where you pushed for the top floor putting your key in to unlock the floor and he traveled the hundred stories up.

The second the elevator to your floor opened Jungkook’s breath hitched. He didn’t realize you had the entire floor to yourself until he walked in and saw the various doors to different amenities all just for you ranging from private gym to an entire room larger than his apartment dedicated to shoes and handbags. You walked down the hall to the main living space and he continued to look around. Large kitchen, large windows that looked over the skyline with a pool on the balcony.

“So this is your place?” He asked obviously as you went to your bedroom which, once again, was bigger than his apartment with a king sized bed and canopy. You gave a quick nod of your head disappearing into your closet to change into something warmer, “18th birthday present.”

He was too nervous to even sit on your bed but you came out all joyous jumping on him and tackling him down on it. Immediately, a jolt of pain shot up his side making him wince and you jumped to get off his lap. His hands gripped your waist keeping you in place and your brows furrowed in concern. You reached for his shirt when he held your wrist to stop you but you pulled it up anyway. Jungkook’s face heated when you stared at the faded bruise on his side. It was worse than it was when you two had sex, it was more brown now with yellow around the edges since it was old.

Your finger just barely brushed over it enough that it didn’t hurt but he still flinched at the contact making you frown as you straddle his groin, “You were fighting?”

His eyes widened at first but relaxed when he realized who would’ve told you. Maybe you were closer with Jin than he thought. Lord knows he only sees Jin when it comes to the business they’ve involved themselves with. You, on the other hand, were at Jin’s societal level and probably saw him at galas and fashion shows. So Jin told you about the fighting and you still let him into your home? Without another word you shimmied off his lap and he could feel his heart drop. Maybe you were rethinking things. Maybe you saw that it was a bad idea to get involved with him and now you’re backing out. He wouldn’t blame you after seeing the way you lived compared to him. He expected you to kick him out, not to lean down and press a soft kiss on his ribs, “Did you at least win?”

Jungkook gave a slight nod of his head in response and you smiled moving to lay on the bed now right next to him. You sat your head up on your palm looking over to him, “Do you like boxing?” He shook his head honestly and it made you frown, “So why do it then?”

He was quiet for a moment, “I’m good at it and it’s easy money.” “This is easy money?” you pointed to his bruise but before he could answer you were backtracking, “I mean… I’m just trying to understand but you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but lean forward to press a gentle kiss on your lips before wrapping an arm around your waist pulling you into his side, “Why are you so perfect? Aren’t you a little scared? I’m not a good guy.”

“Why? Because you beat the shit out of people for money? Oh yeah you’re such a thug,” you rolled your eyes, “Besides, I’m not perfect, I’m actually a spoiled bitch.” He laughed along with you snuggling in your bed despite the sun still being out.

“To answer your question from earlier, the only reason why I do this is to help out my parents. They’d kill me if they found out but they’ve got a lot of debt and I want to help them how I can. I dropped out of school my final year and I went straight to work,” Jungkook began to open up, “I didn’t want to leave school but we needed the money so I had to get to work. There weren’t many options where I’m from so I packed up my shit and came here.”

“Wasn’t that hard?” You asked cutely and he could see it in your eyes that even if you didn’t understand, you wanted to. He nodded, “Yeah, I slept on a lot of couches at first. I couldn’t get a good job since I didn’t have a diploma but I started working as a mechanic and was able to get the place I’m at now for cheap if I fix maintenance problems myself.”

“I met this guy who told me he knew how I could make quick money and it was just supposed to be a one time thing but I can’t support myself and my parents with just the car shop.”

“And Jin wants you to be a legitimate boxer? Like one of those lightweight champion fighters?” You asked making him crack a smile as you laid on his chest. He began to play with your hair, “Yeah and I just don’t get it. I’m not going to get far. I don’t how to play by all the rules. I don’t think it’s worth the risk. For now I’m fine working at the auto shop.

“But, you don’t want to see if it actually works out?” You asked curiously, “And would you want to work as a mechanic forever?”

“I’m not thinking about forever, I’m thinking about the present and what gets me by. When I get a chance to live comfortably then I’ll look at the bigger picture but I still don’t think it would be boxing.” He was honest and a little blunt but he didn’t mean to sound that way. He was just being realistic. He knows he’s living paycheck to paycheck and still coming up short but it’s what he needs to do right now. He can’t dedicate himself to a career where he doesn’t get paid frequently unless he trains and devotes all his time.

You didn’t say anything for a moment and it made him wonder if he made you uncomfortable. It’s not that he thinks you had it easy growing up but clearly you’ve grown up with a totally different mindset and endless possibilities. After a while before he could backtrack you spoke, “I see what you’re saying, sorry,” you mumbled and he seemed to squeeze you in his hold. He shook his head no though you couldn’t see him, “Don’t apologize. You were just curious.”

‘So can I go to see you?” You weren’t even done saying what you wanted to say when Jungkook was muttering a few ‘no’s’ making you turn to face him now still laying on him. You went to move back and his arm stayed loose around you but let you move, “Why not?”

“Because it gets really ugly and it’s dangerous. It’s not something I want the girl I’m into to see,” he said mixing in a confession and putting it out there for you to understand what he’s on. He absolutely had no desire to get close to anyone romantically but now that he has, he’s really interested. He finds you attractive but it wasn’t just that. You seemed to listen to him and though you could, you don’t judge him— or at least he didn’t hink you do. You looked at him with an annoyed expression but it was playful, “But I want to see you.”

You didn’t directly say you were into him but you did lean in for a kiss letting his lips meet yours softly. You released a soft moan when his arm tightened back around you turning his body slightly to kiss you better. The two of you pulled apart but his hand was still cupping your face gently and he looked down at you. You opened your mouth to say something but he immediately shut you up with another kiss before pulling away again, “So pl—“ Then another kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help but laugh when he did it again quickly now, “Please let me wa—okay!—“ kiss after kiss on your lips so you wouldn’t keep talking about seeing him fight.

He wouldn’t let you.

Or so he thought. Jungkook held your hand tightly as he led you through the thick crowd watching the fight from before. You looked around anxiously now. It was louder than you imagined, dirtier, rougher. It reeked of alcohol and dirty money. You could feel the stares on you when you walked past and though it made you uncomfortable, you felt a little better with Jungkook there.

He sensed your unease because he pulled you closer until his arm could wrap around your waist, pressing his face against yours to whisper in your ear, “You still okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded leaning in to give him a quick kiss as he smiled, “Alright, I gotta get ready.”

“Jungkook! My man, you’re late,” a guy with a huge grin on his face approached. You ignored the way he seemed to look at your figure but Jungkook was pulling you closer to his side than before. Jungkook just smiled, “Things came up.”

“I see that,” the guy’s eyes stopped at your legs, then your hips, and chest, “I’m Hoseok by the way.”

“Y/n,” you answered in a snobby tone as you glared back at him. He was way too open with staring you down when Jungkook was there. Jungkook thought the same and it had him pulling you along, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

It was still strange to see you in the locker room with him. The same grimy room he was in last time when he was beaten pretty bad and still came out on top. You tried to hide your disgust but he could see it in the way you avoided touching anything. Jungkook cleared his throat, “I can take you back to the car, if you want.”

“Why would I want to leave?” You asked moving closer to him as he attempted to wrap his fists up by himself. Jin should be here soon to help him with that but until then you’ll just watch him get ready. He looked over to you, in your skirt and sweater making him even more nervous. He asked you to dress down, not because he didn’t love seeing your pretty outfits, but because he didn’t want anyone to get any ideas with you. He’d hate to hop out of the ring so people wouldn’t come at his girlfriend. It still feels weird to say that. Never did he imagine he’d get swept up so quickly and yet here you were, absolutely breathtaking and sweet.

His breath hitched so suddenly, your arms wrapped around his exposed torso in a back hug pressing a kiss to his shoulder plate. He turned his head to look back at you and you took the opportunity to kiss him on the lips.

“Sneaky little snake Y/n.”

You pulled away with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook looked to the swinging doors as Jin walked in. Jin glared at you, “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you’re going to a summer Christmas party?”

“I’m covering up,” you said only answering his last question as you let go of Jungkook to give Jin a spin, “Don’t I look pretty?”

“You always do,” Jin said with a shrug as Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in his direction at that comment. He still has to get used to the fact you’re very close with Jin. Tame his jealousy and be less serious all the time. His friend seemed to be thinking the same since he rolled his eyes, “Don’t look at me like that. Why’d you bring Y/n to a place like this?”

“Because I asked,” you said when Jin stepped up to help Jungkook put his gloves on. He scoffed, “And Jungkook is fine just doing whatever you ask?”

When Jungkook didn’t say anything Jin released an annoyed huff of breath as he finished up with the wrappings. Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you as he lifted his gloved hands to reach for you. Jin looked between you two muttering something under his breath as he walked out the door giving you two a minute. Jungkook put the gloves on your hips as you moved between his legs looking down at him from where he was sitting on the bench. Your arms rested on his shoulders as he looked up at you with rounded eyes. He leaned forward resting his forehead on your chest, “I’m happy you’re here tonight.”

“Really? I thought you told me no,” you said playfully and he looked up again, still resting on you, squeezing you even closer to him. “But it’s nice to have someone there for me.”

You didn’t know what to say so instead your hands slid up from his shoulders to his face and you leaned down to meet his lips. He kissed back immediately, trying to touch you more but his gloves didn’t let him. It was short and sweet only interrupted when Jin opened the door back up.

He looked to you, “Come on, we’ll find somewhere to be, let Jungkook concentrate before the fight. He’s going up against a new guy first.”

Jungkook gave you a kiss goodbye and you told him good luck and left. You stood with Jin at the closest seats to the ring and he was trying to let you know what might happen tonight.

“So there’s two fights for him. The first will probably be the easiest but if he’s too worn out in the second he might not win. Now, he’s got a winning streak and a lot of people don’t like that so they’ll be fighting dirty tonight,” Jin told you honestly, “A lot of people are mad they’re losing money to him and there’s very few rules here. There’s a couple illegal moves but a lot of it is free game so beware he could get seriously hurt. Hence why I want him to go the professional route but he won’t, his family doesn’t want him fighting. If anyone talks to you don’t even entertain it, alright?”

“Yes dad,” you said, though you were definitely feeling anxious now. Music was loud but yelling was louder. It reeked of sweat, alcohol, blood. It was dirty and crowded and you could feel people looking at you. There were very few females here and they all glared at you too. Jungkook told you to not even bring your purse but you still felt like you needed to keep your possession close.

When Jungkook came out in just a pair of boxing shorts and shoes, mouth guard in looking like a completely different man than the one you kissed just moments ago, you saw him in a new light. Reality was hitting you that he was very much an intimidating man. When he passed you by he didn’t shy away from going to you for a good luck kiss before jumping over rope to get into the ring. When he kissed you it only made more heads turn.

You didn’t pay much attention to what the ref[?] was saying because it was so overwhelmingly loud in here. Practically overstimulating you and suddenly you weren’t so thrilled being here. Jungkook looked scary but so damn attractive, jumping from foot to foot getting his blood pumping as the other guy came in. He was roughly the same size as Jungkook, just less muscle. “You’re in for a show,” a voice spoke as someone plopped down next to you. You looked over to Hoseok who now sat on your left while Jin sat on your right.

“How much?” Jin asked him and they leaned over you to discuss betting amounts. When the bell rang you paid your full attention to the scene before you. Since this wasn’t such a professional fight there were less rounds to go through and the first knockout was a win. Only three rounds and he needed to score high on two to win.

The first round wasn’t a clear win. Jungkook did the first hit making the guy stumble back and you understood why everyone was so energetic. This was nerve wracking and everyone shouting for the one they wanted to win was getting to you. It was during the second round when things began to heat up. This time the other guy did the first hit, a hard fist to Jungkook’s bruised side but he didn’t even flinch. He delivered a harsh blow to the guy’s jaw giving him an uppercut that sent him stumbling against the ropes.

His body slipped to the floor, blood dripping from his mouth and your hands clasped together as the referee counted the seconds for knockout. The guy attempted to get back up but only kept slipping down on the floor. When the whistle blew the round was given to Jungkook. You clapped happily now making him look over to you with a small smile. He was already drenched in sweat, long hair stuck around his face and clearly out of breath. Jin got up with a bottled water and towel taking it to Jungkook as they talked about something you couldn’t here.

“What do you think so far?” Hoseok asked you as the third round started and your eyes locked in on the fight. You have a shy shrug, “It’s… new.”

Hoseok chuckled, “I bet it is, you’re the only one I’ve ever seen wear Cartier here. Better to take it off before someone else sees it.” You nodded but you didn’t take it off in case you’d lose it. Instead you hid it under your sweater now. The third round was quicker, it took one blow for the guy to fall and laughter rose around you.

By the end of the fight, Jin was hurrying you up to the locker room assigned to Jungkook again. Jungkook was already at the sink examining the damage but when he saw you he hid his bruised side. You didn’t even have to say anything when he was reaching for you, “You okay? Is this too much? I’ll have Jin take you to the car, did anyone say anything to you? I’m sorry, this is probably jus—“

You shut him up with a kiss, his body immediately relaxing into it as his head tilted to the side to deepen it with his tongue. Jin audibly gagged behind you, “I miss Jungkook when he was depressed. Now all you two do is eat each other’s faces off. How you feeling Kook?”

“Good, nothing major,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly when Jin passed him an ice bag. The break till the next fight was really short. The guy he would be going up against had already fought his contender when Jungkook arrived. Once they have their fight and marks are tallied they’ll know who wins. If he wins he’ll be able to pay off some of his loans before the loan sharks come knocking on his door again. He’ll send money for his parent’s bills. He’ll pay his car payment, utilities, buy groceries, and take you out on a date. It won’t be as nice as you’re probably used to but hopefully he can do something. He’ll show you that even if he doesn’t have the kind of money you do, he’ll do anything for you to see how strongly he feels.

Having a support system in the audience cheering him on was motivation to win and he promises he’ll win for you. You wanted to watch him fight so he’ll give it his all.

You got back to your seats once the warning for the next fight came. Jin clutched your hand, “You’re holding up better than I thought. You’re usually more high maintenance. You don’t even like going to the gym because it makes you sweat.”

“But sweat looks so good on Jungkook,” you answered looking at Jungkook, “Now shut up. The fights about to start.”

“You think this guy’s got a chance against Seungmin?”

“Nah, he’s not that focused tonight. Probably because his bitch is in the crowd.”

Your brows furrowed at who was talking about you. Jin shook his head when you tried to turn and look, “Just ignore it.”

The first round started heavy. Jungkook’s opponent threw the first blow right in his face. His head whipped back as he was hit in the nose and you visibly winced. Jungkook didn’t feel too much pain from it, probably due to adrenaline, but it made his eyes water and blur for a second giving the guy a chance to hit him in the gut.

The crowd was going crazy around you as Jungkook delivered three hits in but his body collapsed to the floor. The guy had hit the back of Jungkook’s head that had him stumbling down on the floor in pain. You gripped Jin’s arm, “Isn’t that illegal?” He only shook his head, “Not here.”

7…

You waited to see if he’d get up but he couldn’t lift his head. Your leg was bouncing anxiously and before you knew it, the round ended with a knock out. Jin got up immediately going to Jungkook’s aid and he looked worse for wear. The round was given to the other guy and before you could even think you were walking to the rope. Jin was wiping blood off Jungkook’s face grabbing the back of his head checking for blood.

“He’s got a heavy hand,” Jungkook panted out of breath feeling his ears drum. Jin held his head, “Block your fucking head Jungkook. He’s playing extra dirty, he’s going to keep going for it if you’re already injured.”

“Jungkook,” you said softly making him turn, finally noticing you and suddenly he was sitting up on the stool. He sniffled, “Yes baby? Are you okay? I promise I’m fine, if it’s too much don’t look—“

“Fighter’s ready!”

Jin gave Jungkook a kiss on his forehead, “Two rounds. You gotta win this and then you get a pay grade. Alright?” Jin led you back to your seat before you could even talk to Jungkook more but maybe it was for the better.

Jungkook was tired, worn out from the last round and the fight before. His opponent at least had resting time after his fight since Jungkook’s fight was after. Jungkook didn’t get as long of a break before he was thrown into the last fight. He stood in position for the bell to ring but the guy across from him was jittery.

A smirk on his face as he looked over the audience before he snickered, “Brought your toy along? I like her, might just take her from you.”

Jungkook tried to ignore it, jaw tense as he reeled in his anger. The guy was a shit talker, he wanted to get in Jungkook’s head but he won’t let him. He just wants Jungkook to lose focus but he won’t. The second the bell rang Jungkook gave the first hit, getting Seungmin right in the stomach before giving him another hit on the side of his head.

You watched anxiously, Jungkook seemed to have felt better enough to fight back stronger. Hoseok looked over to you, “The kid’s got it, he’ll win.”

You’re not worried about him winning. You’re worried about how hurt he’ll be after and you understand now why Jungkook didn’t want you here. He was strong, he could fight and hold his own but watching him get beat black and blue was heartbreaking. But you couldn’t look away. You were at the edge of your seat, there was blood dripping down Jungkook’s eyes painting it red but he kept fighting, he stayed on his feet even when he was backed into a corner. He blocked his head with gloves and when Seungmin least expected it he punched his nose then jaw. The opponent’s body whipped with the force of the hit and though he tried grabbing rope, he crashed to the floor.

Jungkook was jumping from foot to foot keeping himself moving as the ref counted down to knockout and he released a breath. He sat on the stool in the corner of the ring tipping his head back staring up at the hanging lightbulb over them. They’re tie. This last round will declare the winner of this fight and it has to be him. He can get a few hundred and though most will go to bills he swears he’s going to try and take you out.

Jin was in front of him again, this time he pressed an Enswell to the cut above his brow, “Last round, it’s yours man, I can feel it. You’re faster, you’ve got more coordination. How’s your eye?”

“Hurts like a bitch,” Jungkook confessed through his mouth guard. He turned to look for you but stopped, wincing when Jin wiped the blood away. The cold metal against his skin was numbing the pain but he could still feel his eye swelling, “How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, focus on your opponent not your girlfriend,” Jin said harshly but he only meant it out of concern. He wanted Jungkook to be focused so he wouldn’t get so roughed up in the last round.

Now it was the last round. He shifted his mouth guard to fit better as he stared at Seungmin. He watched his head turn to look at you, eyes wandering up the expanse of your legs to your skirt. His words were mumbled due to the guard but he could understand him clearly, “Yeah, I’ll take her as my prize. She’ll look good as my bitch, bet she’s got a fat ass t—“

Jungkook shoved him, the crowd growing louder as the ref blew the whistle, pulling them apart. The guy only laughed glaring at Jungkook, “Look real nice with her legs spread just for me. She tight?”

The whistle blew.

The first throw Jungkook took didn’t land, it was too blinded by rage that Seungmin touched him first backing him up into the corner again with his larger build, “Bet she likes to fuck dirty with that body.”

Jungkook struggled, moving too quick to cause real damage and block his eye at the same time. Seungmin kept going, “You think she’ll put up a bigger fight than you? I like the figh—“

His breath was knocked out of his body when Jungkook threw a direct punch to his diaphragm making him stumble back. As he clutched his chest Jungkook took the opportunity to hit where his kidney should be, bringing the guy down to his knees in pain.

You were on your feet with everyone else cheering Jungkook on unbeknownst to what was being said about you. Though Seungmin was down, anytime he tried to get up Jungkook would stop him. With an uppercut, Jungkook punched right at Seungmin’s ear sending a ring down his ear drums and he fell to his side.

But Jungkook didn’t stop. The gloves made it hard for him to really get his hands on him but he wasn’t done. He didn’t even care about the round. He cared about beating the fuck out of this piece of shit for talking about you, so he did. He got over the guy, straddling his curled position as Seungmin blocked his own head from being hit. There were no rules outside of no weapons, and no weighted gloves so he wasn’t stopping until he was dragged off of him.

“Jungkook!” Jin called out when Jungkook brought a fist back and hit over the man’s hands getting as much of his head as he could. He raised another arm to do it again as the whistle blew.

He delivered another blow feeling the bounce of the mat, the ref saying he won since it was a knockout but he wasn’t done.

Just as he was ready to give him another hit he was being yanked off but he wanted more. He wanted the guy bloody and bruised for the way he talked about you. He lurched forward to do it but strong arms held him back, two people telling him to stop. The ref raised Jungkook, “The winner! There, you’re done with the fighting!”

He had to be dragged out of the ring by Hoseok and Jin. He could barely see out of his eye and the crowd half cheered half booed, “Where’s Y/n?”

He was feeling dizzy, drained and tired. Jin sat him down on the bench and you went to get ice. You wanted to cry though you had no reason to. He just looked so scary out there but also, he was clearly beat. You had to collect yourself instead of let your emotions show. You’re the one who begged him to let you see him fight. You passed the bag to Jin feeling like you needed to catch your breath. Jin let you sit next to Jungkook who seemed too far into his own world to pay attention.

He was hot, his body was on fire and he was breathing heavy, leg bouncing as he thought back to what Seungmin had been saying. The fucking disrespect. Even if you weren’t his girlfriend, how could Seungmin say things like that and expect Jungkook to not react? He wanted to fight him again, it was all he could think about.

“Take the keys,” Jin told you and you did. Hoseok came in shortly after, “I’ve got the cut. Seungmin’s mad, cussing at everyone saying it’s cheating.”

“Says who?” Jin scoffed making Hoseok shrug, “No one. Jungkook won, everyone could see Seungmin was instigating and now he’s mad he got his ass handed to him.”

He chuckled as Jin took Jungkook’s gloves off and the mouth guard fell to the floor. Jungkook grabbed a t-shirt ignoring his wounds as he stood suddenly. He grabbed his things and like confused idiots you all rushed after him.

The place was still bustling with drunk energy and Seungmin’s voice was heard over it all.

“Take him out the ring and I’ll fucking beat him.”

You stayed a little behind as Jin tried grabbing at Jungkook but he just pushed him off.

“I call rematch and I’ll take the money and his bitc—“

Okay, well now you knew what he had been telling Jungkook. Jungkook turned Seungmin around but before the guy could react, a hard fist was colliding with his nose. Screams erupted, some urging the fight, some calling security. This entire time Jungkook had been silent with only a deadly look in his eyes. You gasped loudly when the guy threw Jungkook off trying to get on top of him but Jungkook wasn’t letting him. His fists weren’t stopping and they were covered in blood now.

“Jungkook!” You didn’t know what else to do. You couldn’t just go in and stop the fight like an idiot but you didn’t want Jungkook to do something he’ll regret. Jin seemed to be thinking the same because he did try and get Jungkook off only to be shoved aside.

Suddenly, security was there, picking Jungkook up with an arm around his neck locking him in. He fought against the hold once Seungmin was sitting up spitting out blood but Hoseok cut in. You didn’t know he was the one in charge of it all but it made sense now.

“Enough!” He yelled out, “If you’re not inside that ring you’re not fucking fighting or your asses are done!”

You walked to Jungkook practically feeling the heat radiating off him but you tried being gentle as he fought against the security still, “Hey, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t even look at you, eyes set on the guy and before he could stop himself he was lunging for him again catching security off guard and accidentally releasing him. Seungmin fell into a group of people when Jungkook did it again. You covered your eyes blocking out the yelling as they tried getting him off.

This time security wasn’t so nice, picking Jungkook up and throwing him on the ground making him gasp for air from his injuries. You immediately went to him, “Stop, please, can you please just stop.”

You didn’t notice you were crying as Jin helped Jungkook up and silently dragged him out. Jungkook was mad even as you made it outside.

“I fucking told you not to come!” Jungkook yelled, “I told you Y/n.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you apologized, making Jin shove Jungkook into the passenger seat. “Stop acting fucking crazy or I’m leaving your ass here and taking Y/n home.”

You had the keys with you, hurrying to start the car so the two of you could leave but Jin was at Jungkook’s window. You rolled it down for him and the look on Jin’s face was saddened.

“Hoseok took half the cut for fighting outside the ring.”

“What?” Jungkook asked sitting up in his seat. Jin just nodded, “Took it, man I told you not to act out.”

Jungkook took the amount that was in Jin’s hands counting it up before cursing. It wasn’t nearly enough, not for everything. It wasn’t even enough to pay his family’s bills. When Jin pulled back you took the opportunity to drive but you didn’t take him to his place.

You were struggling when you pulled into the parking spot in the hotel parking garage and dragged him out. The garage was connected to the side of the hotel so you took him in the elevator as far as you could go and went up. As long as you avoided the lobby nobody would no how badly your boyfriend was beat.

He was silent now, all the pain finally hitting him at once and he felt hopeless. All that was for nothing. He won but at what cost? He let his emotions get the best of him and he yelled at you. Fuck, why did he do that? He couldn’t even apologize, it’s like his mouth had been sewn shut and look at this. You’re having to drag him yourself because he can’t walk himself. How pathetic.

When you got to a floor you found a cleaner and called to her as you got onto the right elevator hiding Jungkook against the wall, “Take a first aid kit to my room.” Everyone knew who you were and you couldn’t risk Jungkook being seen and your father being notified. The woman just nodded, running off already and you went to your floor. Jungkook didn’t say anything about coming to your place instead of his. He would’ve if he wasn’t trying to faint.

It didn’t take long for the first aid kit to get to your place and he followed you in.

He didn’t feel too awful but he was embarrassed. He didn’t even want you looking at him. His eye is practically swollen shut but thankfully it wasn’t the side with the piercing on it. He could still feel some blood on it but he had to force himself to ignore it as he followed you to your bathroom. You were bent over running the water in your overly large bath tub. You directed him to sit on the marble side of it and he did as told. You reached out to pull his shirt up but he stopped you.

“I can do it,” he mumbled looking down, “I’m fine.” You tried getting him to look and he wouldn’t but when you lifted his head he turned away making you frown, “You sure?”

“I don’t want you seeing me like this,” his voice was raspy, “Fuck I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you said, holding his face gently, “But look at me, please.” It took him a second but when he did you released a sigh. You had a warm wet cloth as you began cleaning his eye area, “I’m here.”

He looked at you close to tears. “You don’t have to do everything alone. I want to take care of you too,” you said, making him sniffle. He shook his head, “I always do it alone, it's okay.”

“It’s not,” you said once he was finally undressed. You checked the water and poured some bath salts in and urged him to get in. He was naked in front of you but you couldn’t look at him, he didn’t want you to see all the pain he went through even if he says it’s not that bad. You sat on the edge of the tub waiting for him to get in and he did so shyly. As he sank into the warm water he looked back at you, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you in the car. I’m sorry you had to see me like that, okay? If you don’t want to be with me because of it I wo—“

“You won’t what? Stop me?” You asked cupping water in your hands and letting it run over his body, “So if I tell you right now that I don’t want you, you’ll just leave without a fight? You must not like me that much.”

“I love you,” he blurted out, happy that he was facing the wall instead of you but he would rather have you in here with him, “That’s why I wouldn’t stop you from leaving me. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Says who?”

“Y/n be serious, please,” Jungkook released a sigh turning to look at you. Now that he’s more cleaned up his wounds don’t look so bad but his eye was still swollen and his knuckles were bloody, “Look at me. Look at what I did tonight and where I live an—“

“I am looking,” you told him with your hands in his hair wetting it, “And tonight made me realize that I’m in love with you. I don’t care about where you live, I don’t care about any of that.”

“But I do,” he said when you started tugging your skirt and sweater off. Yes, he wanted you in his arms in this tub big enough to fit four people, but he didn’t want to just think about himself. He wanted you to know that he understands how different you two are and if tonight scared you, he understands why. He was a monster.

“Why?” You asked, sinking in across from him, “Why do you care about that stuff if I don’t?”

“Because it’s not enough for you. I want to give you so much of myself. I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated and I can’t,” Jungkook said honestly, voice cracking here and there, “I’m not good enough, I fight to make money and look what happens. I can’t control myself, I yelled at you for no fucking reason and I hate myself so much.”

“Because you yelled at me or because you don’t think you’re enough?” You asked cautiously, making him shake his head no but he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Yeah, he strongly disliked himself. He worked his ass off and it was never enough. He never had enough money, enough food, enough restraint, stability, or love.

You were careful when you leaned forward placing a soft kiss to his jaw, “I know you didn’t mean to snap. I know your buttons were pushed. I know you were stressed out and I don’t blame you at all. If I did I wouldn’t have you here with me. I don’t know how much more direct I have to be for you to see that I care about you so fucking much.”

“I don’t care about money, or yelling or any of that shit, I care about you and how you make me feel so safe because I know my strong boyfriend will beat the shit out of anyone who talks about me,” you said making your tone lighter at the end and he almost cracked a smile. He would never let anyone treat you any sort of way. That’s true.

His sore hands were holding your waist now underwater trying to pull you onto his lap. Though he’s been hit a few times in the gut, the place he was most hit was his face. His lip was pulled between his teeth, “My fighting scared you.”

“No, it didn’t,” you confessed, “What scared me is knowing that guy could do pretty much anything to you and it wouldn’t be breaking the rules.”

“I know,” he said, agreeing with you. It was getting extremely dangerous. If he gets hit in the head any more times he’ll get punch drunk before he’s 26. It’s not the fighting that’s the problem it’s where he’s doing it that is, “But as embarrassing as it is to confess to you, I need the money.”

“I understand baby, I’m not saying anything about that,” you told him honestly, running your fingers through his hair, “But it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I agree with Jin,” you told him making his brows furrow as much as they could. “If fighting is what you’re good at and you want to fight then go ahead. It shouldn’t matter what anyone thinks unless they’re here caring for you instead of putting more stress on your shoulders. I know your family doesn’t like you fighting and honestly, after tonight, I didn’t like seeing that but it’s not because I don’t support you.”

“It’s because I do, that I want you to have better opportunities in a safer, more regulated environment and not some dingy ass fight club,” you told him with a kiss to his shoulder blade, “So I think you should think about going professional. Jin and I have good connections everywhere and with the right training you can get really far. But if you really don’t want to then I won’t ask anymore.”

“You think I can do it? How am I gonna have time to train when I’ve got to make money,” Jungkook asked, suddenly thinking about it. You were a lot more convincing than Jin but maybe it’s because you’re so loving—and naked in his arms.

“I’ll help you with mon—“ “No,” and he was unconvinced, “I’m not taking handouts. I’m sorry baby but not from you. You’re my girlfriend, you’re not supposed to have to let me borrow money. I want to be able to take you out and spoil you and I can’t if—“

“It’s not a hand out, it’s your girlfriend wanting to do things for you because she really loves you and wants you to be at a point in your life when you’re not stressing over every little thing,” you told him. He shook his head, still unconvinced. He can’t. He can’t. He loves you too much to put his worries on your shoulders. You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, “Besides I’m not saying you won’t be able to do it on your own, I know you can.”

“What I’m saying is that you don’t have to do it alone, and if it’s not money that you want help with that’s fine but don’t shut me out because you’re scared of relying on someone else. You’re too used to being the one dealing with your problems and everyone else’s. I want to be the one you have in your corner.”

“So I should go pro?” You nodded making his eyes dart around in thought, “I’ll still be fighting but I know now it’s because I like it.”

“Yes but you’ll be doing it as safe as can be, I don’t want you to go into a fight like this again and the guy do anything he can to get you down,” you told him and he looked up at you.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I am… I am asking for your help,” he struggled to get the words out but he did, “Because I don’t want to keep living the way I am, barely surviving and having to do dangerous things to get by. The reason why I never considered it is because I wouldn’t have the time or the money or even the support but I have you now.”

“You do,” you smiled, “And even if it doesn’t work—it will—but if it doesn’t, I’m still going to be here supporting everything you do.”

“I love you,” he blurted out looking in your eyes, “So fucking much and I’ve never felt like this for anyone else. I’m just sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Shhh,” you pressed your lips to his, “I love you too.”

You gave him a chaste kiss, “But we need you training on defense asap.” His brows furrowed as you continued, “I’m serious, you’re a good fighter but when it comes to blocking hits you suck.”

The two of you laughed lightly at that. It was true. He was a street fighter only using his fists to fight but when it comes to defending himself he’s not so quick. Hence why his face is usually the most damaged. His fingers sunk into your sides, “You gonna be my new trainer, baby?”

“Maybe, I know my way around a fight.” “Mmm, you’re gonna have to show me some moves but not in the ring.”

Your eyes rolled playfully, “Not tonight, you’re probably tired after your rounds.”

“I could still go for another round or two.”

“Are we still talking about fighting?”

::.

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a/n oooo not a boxer jk. still debating how I feel about the fic but it was fun to write

no part two but I will accept requests for drabbles of the fic

also, my blog now has a tipping option to support my writing :) I obv am not expecting any sort of payment but just added it

#kpop #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook angst #kim taehyung #bts #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #bts smut

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Love That Burns ~ 35

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,090ish

Summary: You and Logan fight to save Mariko.

Warnings: wounds, fighting, near death experiences

Notes: I have loved all the reactions I've received! Please keep them coming. They all mean so much to me! This is the last chapter before we start on the two different endings! Ending 1 will come out before ending 2. Also, before the ending 1 starts coming out, I'm going to post the one-shot for this series about their everyday lives from the ten year gap.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You gasped as you woke up naked on the medical bed you had died on. Looking around, you could tell that you were alone. Meaning that Logan had followed through with going to save Mariko, which was what you had asked of him. You were honestly surprised that you had risen from the dead again, but you couldn't waste any more time. You needed to get to Logan.

You quickly found some clothes to wear and the location of Yashida’s birthplace. Thankfully, rich people always had a few cars lying around, and you were off. Racing to get to Logan before he did anything incredibly stupid.

~~~

Logan’s anger was fueling him forward. He needed to rescue Mariko and finish off Dr. Green. He needed to get his revenge for you. When Logan arrived at the town, he was met with Harada, waiting in the streets for him. Logan could sense that there were others nearby, hiding in the shadows.

“I see you’ve come to fight,” Harada stated, coming towards Logan. “It’s pointless. You’re outnumbered. The Black Clan has protected the House of Yashida for 700 years.”

The Black Clan began emerging from the shadows, from the alleys and the rooftops.

“Is that all the men you brought?” Logan challenged. “I’m going to get to Mariko.”

“We are grateful for your protection of Mariko. But there is one more sacrifice you must make for her family.”

“Go fuck yourself, pretty boy.”

Harada yelled, and the fighting began. It didn’t take long for the other Black Clan members to jump down and join, with more continuing to appear on the rooftops. Hard ordered them to begin firing arrows as Logan started to run through the streets. Logan got halfway through town before the arrows began to have heavy wires attached. Logan grunted as he tried to continue on despite the resistance of the wires. He groaned as a poisoned arrow hit the middle of his back. His vision began to blur, but Logan continued to move forward. The Black Clan continued to shoot wired arrows into his back until Logan collapsed face-first into the snow.

~~~

You followed the tracks of a fight in the snow once you reached the town. Your heart clenched at the sight of the clear marks of someone being dragged. You knew it had to be Logan. You continued to follow the tracks, slipping into the large house on the hill. With your powers fully restored, it was easy to take down the Black Clan members in your way. Eventually, you reached the center of the building, revealing to be a large, open lab spanning the whole building.

Glancing down, you saw Logan locked up in some machine that kept his hands facing outward. You could see him moving slightly and groaning like he was waking up. With a sudden tug, you could see Logan trying to free himself. Slowly and quietly, you began to sneak down.

“Stand back," Dr. Green ordered the nearby Black Clan members as she waltzed up. “There is no need.”

“Where’s Mariko?” Logan demanded. “Where is she?”

“Are you pinning for someone who is not your wife? For shame. Where is your wife anyway?” Logan simply growled. “Did she not make it? Too weak?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Dr. Green smirked before looking away at the giant samurai nearby. “Impressive, no? He is made of adamantium, just like you.” Logan continued to try to break free. “Oh, Logan, you know what, I get it. You’re frustrated.”

She pressed some buttons, moving the machine that Logan was stuck in forward. The machine pulled his arms forward, away from his body. Logan kept heaving breaths as the machine kept him still, drilling into him and inflicting pain.

“I know Mariko is here,” Logan panted. “I want to see her.”

"You want answers,” Dr. Green stated.

“Yes, I want answers!”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could say more, but I was hired in part for my discretion.” Dr. Green leaned forward, up against the machine, taunting Logan.

“I’m sure you were."

“That and a certain talent for combining biochemistry and metaphysics. High-grade toxins are my specialty. It helps to be genetically immune to every poison known to man, as I am. And immune to the toxin of man himself… as I am.”

“I’ll tell you what, you twisted mutant bitch, why don’t you open these bracelets, and we'll see who’s made of what?” Logan released his claws. Almost as soon as he did, the machine clamped down further around his fists, preventing his claws from retracting.

“The claws,” Dr. Green smiled. "Now we can begin. The suppressant bug you found inside of you and your wife was mine. You took it out on your own. I didn’t see that coming. Did you take your wife's out, too? Is that why she’s not here?”

“You don’t deserve to talk about her!”

“You are strong. You have courage. Real courage. But that won’t help much now.”

The giant metal samurai ripped itself free from the wires it was connected to. It stomped over to Logan, going around him, before stopping in front. You arrived on the same floor they were on in time to see the giant samurai pull a huge sword out and line it up with Logan’s claws. Your eyes widened as you noticed the sword heat up as it lifted. You rushed over and threw yourself between Logan and the samurai.

“Stop!” You shouted.

The samurai lost its concentration, hitting the back of the machine Logan was in, throwing you, Logan, and Dr. Green around while the samurai fell back. Logan grunted as he landed on his knees.

“Y/N!” He yelled.

You looked up and over at him, shooting him a smile. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed out. “Miss me?”

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, he noticed the samurai getting back up. Slamming the leftover wrist clamp against the stairs, it came clattering off. He ran over to you and grabbed your hand, tugging you up harshly to stumble against his chest. His lips quickly captured yours for a brief kiss.

“You gotta stop doing that, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, honey,” you replied with a smirk.

He smirked back. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” The samurai stomping closer caused Logan to start to drag you in the opposite direction. “Run! Go!”

You and Logan ran side-by-side. You noticed Dr. Green rushing to cut you off. You threw your hands out, launching her over the railing and down a few floors in a ball of flames. Harada and Mariko rushed out of a room a few floors up.

“Go!” Logan urged, waving them off. “Run!”

The two of you began running down the stairs. The giant samurai jumped down to the level you had reached. Logan let out a roar as he flung himself at the samurai, causing himself and the samurai to fall down a few levels.

“Logan!” You screamed, looking over the railing to see him squaring up with the samurai.

You spun around and tried to take the stairs two at a time to get to Logan. You could hear him groaning, straining to keep the samurai’s sword still as he used his claws as a shield. You reached the floor in time to see the samurai pull out a second sword that was quickly heating up. Using the railing, you launched yourself onto the back of the samurai and took hold of the heated sword with one of your hands. You focused on heating the sword up further, causing it to begin to lose its shape. It dropped the melting sword and reached back. It grabbed you and threw you over the railing.

“Y/N!” Logan roared.

You cried out in pain as you harshly landed a few floors down. You could hear Logan and the samurai fighting for a few moments before you heard a thud close by. Logan was quickly kneeling beside you, checking you over.

“Are you okay?” He asked, eyes still frantically searching you over. He carefully helped you sit up.

“Honestly, I’m ready to go home,” you responded.

He let out a hearty chuckle. “Me, too, darling.”

The samurai dropped down onto the level the two of you were on. Logan pulled you up and dragged you over to the electrical boxes. Using his claws, he ruined the boxes, turning off most of the lights in the building. You and Logan quietly hid behind nearby posts as the samurai searched for the two of you. The samurai passed the two of you, allowing Logan to jump on its back and retrieve another sword it had.

“Y/N!” Logan shouted.

He tossed you the sword, and you caught it. Holding it with both hands, you began to heat it up. The samurai spun around, kicking Logan down, allowing you to cut the head off the samurai. Logan launched himself at the samurai again, forcing him and the metal monster down to the bottom floor. The samurai slammed against the wall, breaking a hole into it that Logan was launched through.

“Logan!” You yelled.

You ran down the flights of stairs as Logan climbed back into the building. You dropped to your knees in front of him, the two of you quickly wrapping your arms around each other. In a blink of an eye, the samurai grabbed your ankles and tore you from Logan’s grasp.

“No!” Logan shouted, hands barely brushing against your arms as you’re torn out of reach.

The samurai spun you around and grasped onto your hands. The metal clamped against your wrists, and three drills from each of the metal hands appeared and began drilling into your fists, right into your bones. You screamed out in pain.

“Let her go!” Logan demanded.

The middle of the samurai opened up to reveal Yashida.

“Logan-san,” he greeted. “Don't look so shocked. With you at my side, I survived Nagasaki. Surely, I could survive this.” You let out another scream as the drills pushed further into you. “It’s alright. It won’t take long.”

“What are you doing to her?!” Logan didn't know what move to make without hurting you.

“Dr. Green and I have been waiting. It’s only this armor that's kept me alive. We built it to make me strong so I can take what you would not give. And transfer your unwanted healing to my body. It’s only by mere coincidence that your wife could also provide what you would not give. My legacy must be preserved. Your mistake was to believe that a life without end can have no meaning. It is the only life that can.”

Logan was watching as the life slowly drained from your body. You were growing older while Yashida was growing younger. He couldn’t get his eyes to look away from you. He couldn’t force himself to move.

“Logan!” Yukio shouted, throwing one of the large swords in his direction.

Logan caught it, gripping it with both hands, causing it to heat up. He stood up and, with a shout, threw the sword into Yashida’s head. The metal hands retracted the drills and let you go. Logan caught you before you could collapse onto the ground. Yashida stumbled back, gasping for breath, before falling out of the building to his death.

“Sweetheart,” Logan shook you, trying to get you to gain consciousness. “Wake up… I really can’t handle this again… I need you to wake up.” Yukio slowly came over, watching the scene. “Come on, honey.”

The only hope Logan had was the fact that you were still breathing. You had to wake up. Yukio placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“We need to get her some medical attention,” Yukio said.

Logan nodded, hoisting you further up into his arms before standing up. Yukio led the way out, where Mariko and Harada were waiting safely.

“Logan! Y/N!” Mariko exclaimed, rushing towards Logan. “Oh my gosh!” Mariko looked you over, immediately seeing your increase in age. “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“No,” Logan pulled you closer. “Too dangerous.”

“Logan, I have my grandfather’s business under my control. I have resources. The two of you have helped me so much. Please let me return the favor.”

“Mariko can help,” Harada agreed.

Logan scoffed. “Not really caring for your word right now, bub,” he muttered.

“Trust me,” Mariko pressed. “I won’t let any happen to either of you anymore.”

~~~

Logan snarled at anyone who tried to pry you from his arms the moment Mariko had the group escorted to a private wing of a nearby hospital. Yukio and Mariko had to work together to coax him into setting you on the bed. He insisted on staying near you the entire time.

The doctor Mariko had called in specialized in mutants, giving Logan hope and making him even more cautious. Logan’s eyes created a rotation going from your rising chest, your face, to the monitors and back. He wanted to know everything and not miss a second of anything. He stood on the edge of every room you were brought into, like a constant guarding shadow. Mariko and Yukio took turns trying to get Logan to rest, but he couldn’t leave you.

It took a few hours for the doctor to get any results from the tests they had run. The doctor informed the group that you were slowly healing and de-aging. They said that you’d be fine in a day or two and would most likely sleep the entire time. The doctor encouraged the group to keep you there until you woke up, and Logan reluctantly agreed.

“There's one other thing,” the doctor added, after updating the group. “I talked to Dr. McCoy on the phone, and he informed me of the incident that happened ten years ago when Y/N returned from the dead like a Phoenix.”

“What about it?” Logan asked.

“Was that the only time?”

“No. She did it about a day ago.”

“That would explain what we saw in the blood we took.”

Logan took a protective step closer. “What did you see, doc?”

“Mr. Howlett, your wife is a powerful mutant, but when she rises from the dead like that, it sucks away at some of her abilities. The tests we ran and compared to previous tests that Dr. McCoy had run, show that her mutation is slowly decaying.”

“Are you saying that she’s dying?”

“Not exactly. She could still live another hundred years as long as she is careful. The more she rises from the dead, the faster her mutation will decay, meaning the faster—“

“She’ll die… Can she use the other parts of her mutant?”

“Of course. But I would be wary of bringing her into any more life-threatening situations. I have sent our findings to Dr. McCoy for his records, and so that he can keep track of Y/N himself.”

Logan clenched his jaw as he stared at you, processing the information. Mariko stepped forward and placed a hand on Logan’s back.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Mariko said.

“Of course,” the doctor replied. “I’ll be around if there’s anything you need.”

The doctor left as Logan walked over to your bedside. You were slowly returning to the woman he knew. But, even if you hadn’t, Logan would have loved you anyway.

“I need to take her home,” Logan murmured.

“I’ll have the plane ready for as soon as she wakes,” Mariko said.

“No,” Logan shook his head. “I need to get her home now.”

“Logan—“

“I appreciate what you’ve done. But it’s my duty to take care of her and the best way I can manage that is at home.”

“If you’re sure.” Logan nodded, causing Mariko to sigh. “I’ll go make the calls.”

Mariko left to go to as she said. Logan gently took your hand and lifted it up, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“We’re going home, sweetheart,” Logan whispered. “And we’ll never leave again.”

~~~

You needed to move, but you were trapped. The familiar weight of Logan’s arms around your waist was comforting, with his head resting on your shoulder. But you felt like you hadn’t moved in days; your muscles were stiff. As you slowly opened your eyes, you quickly realized that you were no longer in Japan. You were home. Logan’s head was on your shoulder, with his arms around you, keeping you against his bare chest. You lifted your arm and began scratching Logan’s arm. He groaned as he began to wake.

“Sweetheart?” He mumbled into your neck.

“It’s me,” you whispered.

Logan’s head lifted to fully look at you as his arms tightened around you. “You have to stop worrying me… I can’t take anymore.”

“I'm sorry. I’ll try hard not to.” Logan leaned down and kissed you softly. “When did we get home?”

“Last night. The doctor cleared you, and I wanted you home.”

You reached up and cupped Logan’s cheek. You could tell that the concern was still lingering. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I know, darling.” Logan grabbed your wrist and turned his head to kiss the palm of his hand. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Logan then explained what the doctor had found out about your ability to rise from the dead. You could feel Logan trembling as he spoke, like he was finally letting all his concerns out. Once he was finished, you pulled him to lay on top of you. Logan was careful not to fully put his whole weight on you but appreciated you holding him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you quietly promised Logan.

“No more danger,” Logan muttered. “No more missions.” He pulled back enough to allow your eyes to meet. “I need you safe. I need you here.”

“I won’t promise that unless you can promise the same thing… I can't lose you either.”

“I’m not the one with the habit of dying.”

“I promise I don't try to.”

“I know, sweetheart… Alright, no missions. No danger. For either of us.” He leaned down and gave you a brief kiss. “I never asked, how are you feeling?”

You smiled up at him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll let you know if it changes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I do have one thing, though.”

“Anything.”

“Can we stay in bed all day?”

Logan gave a hardy laugh as he wrapped you in his arms and rolled over so you were on top of him. “Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

Ending 1 next chapter >

Ending 2 next chapter >

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mochiimadness · 1 year ago

Note

Okay so this MIGHT sound odd but, do you think you can do headcanons for a neurodivergent reader giving the turtles (either Rise or 2012, whichever versions easier to write) gifts as their love language?

And what I mean by that is giving them little things that they think they’ll like, for example giving Donnie an old toaster that stopped working for spare parts, or sharing a cool recipe with Mikey, etc etc? And the turtles would be confused until they learn about it being a love language/neurodivergent thing :)

(And btw, I love reading your headcanons!!!)

2012 Turtles x neurodivergent reader who's love language is gift giving

Writing for the 2012 turtles, they need some love ^^

Ack, I missed the last part and had to go back and almost didn't add the confusion part in r.i.p

Also wasn't sure if you wanted this to be romantic or platonic, so it's left up to interpretation ^^

Fearless Leader

He appreciates your gifts so much

You took saw these little trinkets and thought of him????

He's tearing up

He always thanks you and gives you a hug when you gift him anything

Even if on the off chance he doesn't like it as much,

He'll still put it up on his shelf with the other trinkets.

At first,

He was thankful of course, but why were you giving him all these gifts?????

Didn't want to seem rude by not accepting them,

But the more you kept doing it, the more confused he got

Eventually, he just politely asks why you're doing this.

Was he suppose to be doing something specific in return???

But when you tell him it's just your love language

He kinda has a

"Oh!!!" moment of realization

Absolutely treasures anything relating to tea, meditation, or Space Heroes

Oh??? You saw this brand of tea and thought he might enjoy it???

He is savoring every sip (even if he doesn't like the flavor, he can and will drink it all)

Or you had some left over candles and wanted to give them to him for meditation???

He lights them every time, they're his favorite scents now

All the gifts you give him are well kept!

Especially the Space Heroes comic you had found while thrifting

"Hey Leo, I found this comic on sale and thought you might like it!"

He takes the Space Hero comic from you with such gentleness, you'd think you'd just given him an egg

Even long after he finished the show and moved on,

He still held such a fondness for it

It is always near and dear to his heart

So when you gifted him a comic of his favorite show??

He nearly cried

His eyes shine with unshed tears and he brings you into a firm, but gentle hug

"Thank you so, so much."

Donnie-pedia

Gift giving is also Donnie's love language!

Usually, he's the one making and giving gifts to his friends and family

So when you start giving him gifts that you thought he might like??

He gives you one of the biggest, brightest, gap-toothed smile you've ever seen

"You got this? For me?? Really?!"

He's so excited

Already ranting about how neat the gift you've given him is

It could be a toaster or some spare krang parts you'd found (there's always some to be found in the back alleys and sewers of New York) or even a random book

He always finds a way to use or appreciate them

He's not as confused as his brothers about you giving him gifts,

After all, he does a similar thing!

But he does start overthinking

What if you're expecting a gift in return?????

What if it's an important day???

He starts worrying over this,

Which leads to him busting out his old white board and writing down everything these gifts could possibly mean

You end up explaining that this was just your love language, once you walk in on him connecting red lines on his theory board

(seriously, why would you giving gifts to him have anything to do with foretelling a dimension X invasion?)

Usually, when you give him anything that can be used in his inventions-

He'll set straight to working on it, after giving you a quick squeeze, of course

"Oh this is perfect, I was looking for something to use in this!"

He presents to you his finished machine,

The gift you gave him having been the missing piece he needed

After showing it to you, he gives you a quick hug

"Thank you so much! That gift was just what I needed."

Also makes gifts for you!

For example, if you gave him some colorful bolts you managed to find

He'll turn them into little matching bracelets for the two of you!

Dr. Prankenstein

Mikey gets so excited every time you gift him something

Has and will pick you up and spin you around each and every time you gift him something

He honestly doesn't find it confusing at first!

Genuinely is just happy to receive these gifts

Doesn't really think twice about it-

Until someone points out that you don't exactly go around giving gifts to just anyone

Then he gets curious, and a little confused

He will just ask you about it flat out

Oh??? It's your love language???

Cool!!!

He loves receiving random recipes from you

"Hey Mikey! I found another one I thought you might like."

"Ooo- let me see!!"

Loves to try making those dishes with you

Sometimes they end up with the kitchen covered in accidentally exploded mash potatoes

Sometimes they end up with the most delicious cake you've ever tasted!

Either way, Mikey loves it

He also loves receiving any other gifts from you

It could be a really cool rock you found

or some cute stuffie you found

He loves them all

Has a whole section of his room dedicated to storing and displaying your gifts

He even carries around a rock or two that you gave him

"For good luck, duh!"

Will also go to the surface to try to find you some little gifts in return

Usually he makes you flower crowns and chains!

Sometimes, he gets help from April or Big Sis Karai though

They'll get him some snacks that he knows you like

When you come down to the lair, he'll jump out and surprise you with some snacks and a movie night!

Also has one of the latest dishes he made with the recipes you gave him ^^

Mean Green Fighting Machine

Raph may act tough around his family

But he's an absolute softie

He's choking up whenever you give him these lil' gifts

Tries his best to take care of these gifts

Though, they may get a bit roughed up during a particularly angry episode or fight

When this does happen though, he does his best to fix them up

Hates it when the gifts you have him get broken or lost

So he keeps them in a storage box for safe keeping!

Though at first,

He was a little suspicious and confused when you started giving him gifts

Like, why???

Did you want something from him??

Were you planning something???

What did you want?

"No, seriously, what's with all the gifts? Ya up to somethin'?"

Pls just explain to him that it's your love language before you get interrogated

Once he knows tho??

He's so touched

You got this for him just because you care??

No strings attached?

Congrats, you've got a turtle who can and will beat up anything that brings you harm

It's how he shows he cares ^^

Surprisingly enough,

He loves receiving any artsy things from you

Especially paint or paint brushes

He goes out of his way to make sure those stay safe

He also loves receiving anything artsy!

If you ever make him a drawing or oragami

He's going to cherish it forever

He may even invite you to join him in an art session later-

"Don't ya dare tell anyone though."

Hope you enjoyed!

#my writing #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #the teetles #2012 leo x reader #2012 donnie x reader #2012 mikey x reader #2012 raph x reader #fearless leader #donnie-pedia #dr. prankenstein #mean green fighting machine

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malfoyfarms · 2 years ago

Text

She Wanted You

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Word Count:1.4k

Warnings:none

A/n: angst bc im boycotting watching season three LOL, not my gif

“What do you mean she left?” JJ questioned, dumbfounded. He didn’t realize it, but he was walking into a war zone. The Chateau no longer had the same feel. It was like someone sucked the air out, and pumped smog in.

With tears in his eyes, John B pointed towards his sister’s room. Sarah and Pope were lingering in there, but JJ had no idea why. The room was oddly neat, incredibly out of character of the girl who resided there. Her closet was emptier than usual, the three picture frames that once had pictures of her with her family and friends were empty. What caught JJ’s eyes next, made his mouth go dry. His breath was no longer there. The navy sweatshirt he had given her years ago was folded, on the bed, next to the pillow he always claimed during their relationship. Atop the sweatshirt was a ring from a gumball machine, an orange and green friendship bracelet made of paracord, and a pile of notes written on scraps of random papers. Every other personal belonging was missing from its spot.

JJ tore through the girl’s nightstand, and when he realized the box of her life savings was gone, he let out a string of colorful words and kicked the stand.

“Here, you should read this.” Sarah handed him a neatly written note. By the tear stains on Pope’s face, the somber tone from the kook, and JB’s raging anger, it was a farewell.

He took a deep breath, and swiped the letter from Sarah. The familiar handwriting was already pulling at his heart.

I’ve rewritten this letter four times already, and I still don’t know how to put my thoughts into actual words. Firstly, I love you. I love you until the waves stop coming in. I love you so much that I knew I needed to leave. I’ve known since you wandered home with John B in third grade, and gave me all the answers (even though they were wrong) to my math homework that if there was going to be another boy in my life, he was going to have to fight you for that spot. From 7 years old, I only ever wanted you. But over the last two years, I can see that I’m not the one for you. And that is why I’m leaving. One of the only things that got me through my day was seeing you smile, but I understand that there is someone else who causes those crinkles by your eyes.

I have to leave because it’s too painful. I need time to have all your kisses leave my body, I need to leave because I can’t smell the ocean, listen to Akon and Konvict, or even wash my fucking clothes without thinking of you. I see you in body language, in the waves, in every damn aspect of my life. Not only are we ingrained on this island, but you are ingrained in me. If I’m ever going to come home I need to remove every trace.

I told you last week, I’d always be on your team, even from a distance. I need you to pursue Kiara because there is nothing more I want for you than happiness. Deep down, I know it will always be her. While that sentence feels like a shot, I’m coming to terms with it.

Don’t try to come find me, either. I won’t be going to any of the places we’ve ever talked about, I do have my secrets still. Not Yucatan, not Tybee, and certainly not Jekyll. Take care of my brother.

All my love,

Y/N

“When did you and Y/N break up?” Sarah asked. JJ couldn’t even think straight. Y/N and the boy broke up about a week ago, for that specific reason, JJ thought there was something there with Kiara. He didn’t think the girl would pick up her stuff and bolt. Leave her brother, her best friends, and the life she claimed to love.

“I, uh, initiated it last week or so,” he stuttered, “it wasn’t definite or anything, but it was insinuated I guess. We had a conversation about it, but I don’t think I ever could have said it out loud.”

“Oh,” she thought. “You know she really loved you with every bone in her body.”

He sucked in a deep breath to try to keep his tears at bay. How could he walk out to the front room and face John B. He was the reason the youngest Routledge had left. With Big John gone, she was all he had left. Hell, with Luke gone, she was all JJ had too. In some form he robbed his friends of a family member.

JJ laid down on the neatly made bed and latched onto the sweatshirt that smelled just like her. His memory flooded with images of Y/n in that sweatshirt. From it covering her bikini when they went night swimming, it being the one sweatshirt that was specifically for after she came home from school, the one thing that grounded her when she was having a rough day. JJ felt his chest start to tighten, and his hands were clammy and shaking.

“I thought you said you’d never break her heart!” JB screamed. Impeccable timing.

“John B don’t–” Sarah tried to interject.

“No Sarah, he promised. He promised me almost three years ago that if I gave him permission to date Y/n, he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he’d be breaking more than just her heart. And now I can’t even help her pick up the pieces. I can’t fix my baby sister, the way she fixed each and every one of us!”

“Bro, you think this is what I wanted? I had a conversation with her. Nothing was definitive. It’s not my fault she took her shit and ran!”

“When has Y/n ever not taken her feelings and ran? Name one time!”

JJ sat there in thought, and there had been one time she didn’t run, and he had promised that he wouldn’t tell. He was going to anyway.

“When you disappeared. I held her while she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. So don’t act like I never treated her right. You know I did.” JB ran his hands through his hair and left the room.

“Until you decided you may have feelings for the girl who is like her big sister.” That stung.

“What’s going on?” Kie asked.

“She’s gone.” John B said. “‘Cuz JJ’s in love with you.”

JJ sat in the hammock, wearing the navy sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in years. It smelled just like her. He could even feel the marks of where she rolled the sleeves and dug her thumbs into the side.

He barely remembered last week’s conversation about Kie, but never did he think that it would cause you to disappear. Y/n was so incredibly loyal. She wanted him. Every. Damn. Day. She wanted him when the clouds were out, and the usually blue sky was gray. She wanted him when he was bruised and beat up, she wanted him when he was crabby after a 14 hour shift, she wanted him at every hour of the day in any way she could have him.

It was just a conversation, he thought. He never flat out said that he was leaving her for the tanned, wealthy kook.

He felt so fucking stupid. He felt so much self-hatred. He remembered when they were 12 and 14, and Y/n wanted to walk to the gas station a few streets over, but John B wouldn’t go with her. He remembered what she usually bought. Peach iced tea, sour straws and a bag of munchie mix. Every single time.

He remembered when the girl got drunk for the first time and dialed him to come get her. God, she was so inebriated. She clung to the boy, giggling profusely. That was the first night she ever told the boy she loved him. Y/n never knew it, but JJ kept that memory locked in his head.

He pondered the time she was ready to give him her virginity. He remembered how nervous she was, but how much she trusted him.

It had grown dark by the time he wandered back into the Chateau. He was surprised JB didn’t kick him out, he fully expected to be out on the streets by now. As he stumbled towards the bedrooms, he went past his own, and fully dove into the light purple sheets he had come to love. She’ll come back, he thought. She has to.

#jj x reader #jj outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #hms pogue

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veryace-ficrecs · 6 months ago

Note

can I request some more zosan recs?

Absolutely you can!!

More Zosan Fic Recs

For my other Zosan lists, look here!

Zosan Fic Recs, Zosan Modern Au Fic Recs, Zosan Outsider POV Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

the blood of the covenant by glassedplanets - Rated E

In the North Blue, there is a roaming kingdom of no land, just a fleet of ships ruled by a king. The kingdom is nothing more than a mercenary force cloned and bred to be expendable and the king is a madman of a scientist. He had a daughter and he turned her into a monster. He had four more sons and three of them ended up becoming machines worse than the monster. And the last didn’t become anything at all until a pirate in a straw hat nearly ruined a restaurant.

A Study in Movement by camembri - Rated T

"Nami’s gaze pins him to the wall. Her brown eyes are narrowed, calculating. “What? You chicken or something? When Mihawk cuts you down – for real this time – are you gonna accept that it’s because you were too shy to ask for help? I refuse to believe that your dream is that superficial.” She’s baiting him, not even bothering to hide it. Still, Zoro’s hackles are raised. “I’m not shy.” “Then prove it. Go watch Sanji cook breakfast or something.”" Or: In the aftermath of Alabasta, Zoro finds himself to be the only person reasonably suspicious of the Strawhats' newest crew member. Should it all go to hell - as it is wont to do, with this particular crew - Zoro needs to train harder, get stronger. The problem lies in the fact that, despite his best efforts, he cannot replicate his ability to cut steel. Willing to go to extreme lengths to reach his goals, Zoro undertakes a new sort of training - the art of observation. Much to his despair, however, the cook seems to be the best candidate available. Zoro's never been one to back down from a challenge, but he wasn't expecting it to turn out like this.

To Brighter Futures by Cherry_Sundae - Rated T

“Well, it’s not Nami, obviously,” Sanji reasons out loud. “You two are like siblings. And as lovely as Robin-chan is, she cannot possibly be your type.” Zoro had phrased it in a way hinting at unrequited love, which means Hiyori’s out too – that woman was practically throwing herself at him every time they were in the same room. “Oh, what was that pink-haired darling’s name? Perona, no? She–” “Cook,” Zoro deadpans, eye narrowed. “If you want to guess sometime this century, you need to stop listing women.” ——— In which Sanji gets captured by pirate hunters, Zoro is in the right place at the right time, and one thing leads to another. You know how it is.

Craving For Your Fragrance To Cover Me by abydos - Rated G

Zoro notices Sanjis new perfume and fights with a realisation.

Desperados by bosephboestar - Rated T

Cowboy au. Need I say more?

Wreck my plans by goldenkiwee - Rated G

He noticed how Luffy immediately tensed up as well, as they watched a blonde, long-haired Marine cruelly step on fallen rice balls. Anger flaring, Sanji was ready to march over to the table. If there was one thing Sanji hated, it was wasting food. However, he watched instead with bated breath as the green-haired bounty hunter scooped the smashed rice ball up with his fingers and ate it. An alternate look at how different things would have been, if Sanji had met Luffy first.

The Printer Guy by LuckyNo3 - Rated G

Zoro knows how to do one thing and only one thing in the office, working the printer.

#veryace asks #roronoa zoro #sanji fic recs #black leg sanji #one piece zosan #zosan fanfic #zosan #op zosan #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3 #one piece

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ilguna · 2 months ago

Text

☼ between life and death pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you’re supposed to be dead. you remember taking your last breath in that arena, but now you’re back, as if it never happened. and there's only one person to blame for it.

warnings; swearing, blood mention, death mention, someone gets hurt, there's some illusion (she's not totally sane), idealization of the capitol.

wc; 5k

notes: you might find the pov changes weird but embrace it.

part one.

District Thirteen’s hospital is in complete chaos.

Finnick comes to a sudden stop two steps in, eyes widening as he watches the scene in front of him. The shouting of orders from across the room by doctors, nurses running back and forth with armfuls full of equipment to tend to the volunteers. The loud beeping from machines getting to know their patients.

His lips part, face twisting, a question forming on his tongue, but he’s not even sure what he’s thinking to ask. Maybe, where is she? Is she okay? Did they hurt her? Is she still the same? Did his interview work? Did everyone make it out alive? He closes his mouth, swallowing, eyes searching for a reason to move.

Right as he thinks to take a step forward, both he and Katniss are cut off by a gurney being guided by a nurse who’s determined to get to her destination. He gets a quick glimpse of an unconscious woman with her head so sharply shaved, there is no hair on her scalp. From what he could see, on the skin that isn’t covered by the gown, she’s covered in fresh bruises and healing scabs.

It isn’t until she’s halfway down the hall, out of reach, does he realize who it is. It’s Johanna.

Finnick turns, as if he’s going to follow after her, because that’s what a good friend does, when a voice cuts through all the noise, clear as day. His heart jumps to his throat. He could be dead, six feet under, and her voice could bring him back to life.

“Finnick!” She shrieks, he whips around. He can feel the wave of tears coming before they've even reached his eyes. The tight pressure, the hot feeling in his face. The sight of her on the other side of the room sends him over the edge.

Annie’s here, her green eyes full of so much life—something he was afraid would be taken away from her in the Capitol. She hadn’t been back there in years, since she won and they shipped her away, uninterested due to her mental illness.

She comes running at home, only wearing a gown, but she doesn’t care, and neither does he. “Finnick!” She cries again. He’s instantly drawn to her like a magnet, he takes off away from the door to reach her sooner, arms open to embrace. As soon as she’s in arms reach, she jumps into him.

Finnick picks her up without an ounce of hesitation, a hand sliding into her dark, tangled hair. She’s alive, the thought is full of electricity. He leans too far forward, making him lose his balance, causing him to overcompensate. When he straightens, it sends him stumbling, back slamming into the wall. They slide down to the floor, where neither of them move, holding on to each other tight.

He was convinced he’d never see her again.

Katniss watches them jealously from the door she entered through with Finnick, feet firmly planted. It’s not that she’s specifically jealous of either partner, but the fact no one could ever doubt their love. Everyone knows how much they mean to each other. She’s still having to fight to get people to believe that’s how she feels with Peeta.

She presses her lips together, tearing her eyes away from the two on the floor to share a look with Haymitch. She manages to catch a glimpse of Gale through a doorway, he’s stripped down to his waist, skin glistening with sweat. A doctor stands over him with a pair of tweezers, removing something from under his shoulder blade.

“Gale!” Katniss is relieved, and she begins to go to him first, until a nurse pushes her back, and then shuts the door to his room.

Katniss goes back to standing next to Haymitch, waiting. Her attention is directed to Boggs next, who led the mission. He comes to a stop in front of them, hands on his hips. “We got them all out. Except Enobaria. But since she’s from Two, we doubt she’s being held anyway.”

“I heard you picked up someone extra?” Haymitch asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

Katniss’s eyebrows twitch. “There were no other tributes in the arena.” She says, and then backtracks a second later. “I guess Annie wasn’t there either…”

“They found a girl in the same hall as the victors. She was right next door to Peeta.” Boggs says, at the mention of Peeta’s name, butterflies swarm Katniss’s chest, reminding her that he’s here.

“Do you think she could be a victor?” Haymitch asks.

“Beetee and Plutarch are trying to figure it out right now.” Boggs shakes his head. “If she is, we don’t know the significance of her being there. She could be anymore.”

“What about Peeta?” Katniss asks. As curious as she is about the mystery girl, there’s only one person in this building she wants to see right now. She’s been waiting to see him for weeks.

“Peeta’s at the end of the hall. The effects of the gas are just wearing off. You should be there when he wakes.” Boggs nods to the nearest hall. “The nurse won’t let you in until she’s done with her work, there’s a chair outside of the door.”

“Thanks.” Katniss murmurs, breaking off.

Haymitch does not, staying with Boggs. If Peeta’s going to be unconscious for a little while longer, he might as well help them figure out who this girl is. Boggs motions for Haymitch to follow a few doors down, where Plutarch is standing with a walkie talkie in his hand. It has to be the fastest form of communication here.

Plutarch looks up from the floor when he senses their presence. “Oh, Haymitch.” He’s relieved. “Maybe you have an idea.”

“Where is she?”

“We have her isolated.” Boggs motions to the nearest window covered by blinds. “Until we figure it out.”

“Take a look.” Plutarch encourages.

Haymitch steps forward, prying the window shade open wide enough to give him a look inside. His eyes land on a girl sitting on a bed—most definitely older than Katniss—who looks to be in as good condition as Annie, maybe a little worse. Her head is turned to the side, seemingly taking in the room, observing it.

“How old is she supposed to be?”

At the sound of Haymitch’s voice, her head turns, eyes finding his through the shades. He’s able to get a good first look at her face before he lets go, disturbed by the intensity of the eye contact, and looks at Plutarch.

Boggs shakes his head. “No idea. We have no information on her.”

“We drew blood from her before she woke up.” Plutarch says, holding up the walkie. “Beetee’s cross-referencing it with residents from Four right now.”

“You think she’s from Four?” Haymitch raises his eyebrows, a little stunned by the assumption. “She doesn’t look like a Four resident.”

“Coin said to start there.” Plutarch shrugs, Haymitch thinks he catches an eye roll, but he’s not certain. “I would’ve gone for one of the outskirts districts, possibly Six or Eight, but she thinks that there might be some significance there.”

“For who? Finnick? They already took Annie.”

Plutarch raises his hands defensively, telling Haymitch that it’s out of his hands. He only does what Coin wants.

“Did you try asking Finnick?” Haymitch suggests.

“No, not yet. We’re letting him reunite with Annie before we drag him into it.” Boggs says. “You don’t recognize her at all?”

“I knew a lot of the victors in recent years, she doesn’t look like any of them.”

The sound of static fills the air before Beetee’s voice comes through, not entirely clear. “I can’t get any information on her. The DNA system in Thirteen is telling me her blood is outdated and doesn’t match any records. It wants a better sample.” There’s a pause. “Are you sure this system is up-to-date?”

Plutarch’s face twists, raising the walkie to his mouth. “Coin said it is. What do you mean her blood is outdated?”

“It doesn’t give me anything else. I’m going to need a bigger sample if you want me to begin to check the other districts she could be a part of.” Beetee answers. “Was she drugged in the Capitol? That might be messing with it.”

Plutarch sighs. “Just the gas to make an easy transfer. Unless the Capitol doctors were doing something to her. Give me some time, I’ll send someone to you.”

“Echo.” Beetee responds, and then the line goes quiet.

Plutarch turns to look at the door belonging to the mystery girl. He rubs his jaw, thinking, before calling on the nearest doctor to join him to draw more blood. The doctor agrees, pulling the gloves off her hands, telling Plutarch there’s already vials in the room she can use in the cabinet.

Plutarch opens the door, motioning for her to go first, before he follows. The door shuts behind them, the doctor prepares to draw more blood, using a key on her lanyard to unlock the cabinet to grab a bigger vial this time. Plutarch sticks by the door, not wanting to get closer.

“I’m just going to draw blood.” The doctor tells the girl, but she pays no mind to her.

Her attention is on Plutarch, eyes boring into his, an intense staring contest. No one in the room speaks, as the tension begins to rise between the three of them. And then she speaks first.

“You’re a traitor to the Capitol.” Her voice is hoarse, scratchy.

Plutarch blinks in surprise, the doctor briefly looking up, before directing her attention back on the blood. He stares at her for a second, before deciding to take the opportunity to question her. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n) (L/n).” She answers.

His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t recognize the name. “What district are you from?”

“Two.”

Plutarch’s face twists, not expecting a Career district to be the answer. Her eyes narrow in displeasure. The doctor interrupts them to announce she has what she needs, allowing the two of them to escape the room. Once the door closes, he feels like he can take a breath.

“What would you like me to do with the blood?” The doctor asks.

“Will you please run it down to Beetee Latier in Special Defense?” Plutarch asks, but he’s not looking at her, his eyes are on Boggs.

“Right away.”

There’s an uneasy feeling in his stomach. With the way she called him a Capitol traitor, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation. She knows something. Maybe she’s a loyalist in District Two? But that doesn’t explain what she was doing in the Capitol, then. And in that case, why wouldn’t they just set up Enobaria to be taken to Thirteen?

Unless Snow knew Thirteen wouldn’t take the chance.

Plutarch holds the walkie to his mouth. “I have a doctor running the sample down to Special Defense right now. I got some information in the meantime.”

“I’m ready.” Beetee answers.

“Her name is (Y/n) (L/n). She said that she’s from District Two.”

Beetee doesn’t answer for a second. “A victor or a resident?”

“It could be either. I wasn’t in the room for long.”

“The Capitol system won’t let me check the resident history of District Two without the DNA sample.”

“What about victor history?” Plutarch asks.

There’s a couple moments of silence, where Haymitch shakes his head a little. It’s clear they’re grasping at straws. “There’s been no (Y/n) in the past ten years, that’s when she would’ve won, right?”

“Unless she’s older than she looks.” Boggs tells him. “Capitol modification?”

And right on cue, Beetee comes over the static. “No (Y/n) in Two.”

Plutarch’s face screws, stumped.

“Could she be lying?” Boggs asks.

“She looked angry when I made a face at her.” Plutarch murmurs. “We can’t check the Capitol database without her blood sample, either.”

“Plutarch.” Beetee’s voice comes over.

“One second.” Plutarch answers him.

“No, I can cross-reference her intake picture with the history of tributes in the Hunger Games.”

Immediately, Haymitch is skeptical, and even laughs a little bit. “What would that help with? The only tributes alive are victors or those who escaped the Quarter Quell arena.”

Plutarch, who knows too many Gamemaker projects for his own good, raises the walkie to his lips. “Go ahead.”

The static is gone.

Haymitch shakes his head, uninterested in the outcome of this search. It’s ridiculous. “I’m going to check on Katniss and Peeta.”

“Good luck.” Plutarch tells him.

Haymitch leaves, back down the hall to the front entrance of the hospital, before taking a right where Boggs had directed Katniss. A few moments of silence pass, as Beetee searches for their mystery girl in the hundreds of faces that have been submitted over seventy-five years.

Beetee is back. “I found (Y/n) (L/n), Plutarch.”

“In the tribute database?”

“Yes.” Beetee pauses. “She was a District Two tribute in the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games. She made it to the final five.”

“Which Games did you say?”

“Sixty-Fifth.”

—

“Remember.” A muffled voice tells you, possibly coming from the Capitol doctor in front of you. Or maybe not, there is no color to her, there is no accent. She’s dressed in a grey jumpsuit, a lab coat over top of it. She holds a device in her hand, illuminating her face in a questionable angle, causing bright, colorful prisms to cover her face. “Remember who you are.”

When she speaks, the shades of the rainbow break apart, first into shiny bubbles, which reflect the light too harshly. They transform into butterflies the higher they go, before popping, causing a rain of glitter.

She can’t be real.

I know who I am, you think. You’re (Y/n) (L/n). You are—were—a resident of District two. You were a tribute in the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games. You’re supposed to be dead. Instead you’re here, in this white room. Which is eerily similar to the one you were in a couple hours ago. Except, that one was bare. This one has a cabinet, a bed, a tray of medical utensils…

You told them who you are, already. More importantly, you told Plutarch Heavensbee who you are. As instructed by the colorful doctors, the ones with the sickly shaded skin and the odd shapes on their faces. Those people had to be from the Capitol, right?

This one stares at you for a long moment, only furthering your idea that she isn’t real. She takes your silence, turning to leave the room. You watch as she becomes transparent with each step she takes, becoming completely invisible before her hand touches the doorknob.

You’re finally getting a hang of this.

You slide to get off the bed, wandering over to the metal tray a few feet away. You come into contact with the cool metal of the table, touching over the several options that are available, confirming they’re real. You decide on the knife, the scalpel. Once you have it in your hand, you return to the hospital bed, hiding the scalpel beneath your right thigh.

Back home, they taught you to always be prepared in unfamiliar situations. Especially when you feel like you’re at a disadvantage. With what has been pumped into your system since you got here, you’re not at your best. You’re not safe.

It was different in the Capitol, they weren’t trying to hurt you there, only inform you. They were trying to help you before you got taken. They were telling you the truth of what happened in the arena. What was really going through Finnick’s head.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your reunion, but it’s important.” Plutarch’s voice is muted through the wall, but not completely silent. You can make out the words. “We have an issue.”

“Does it involve me?” The other voice asks, sending shivers down your spine.

Finnick Odair.

What a bitter name on your mind.

“Well, yes. It involves you, Finnick.” Plutarch pauses. “It’s about your Hunger Games, do you remember anything from it?”

“Practically all of it.” Finnick says, he sounds almost the same from the arena, just more grown up now. “I’d like to see someone who doesn’t. Why?”

“Who was your district partner?”

“Amaryllis.” Finnick says.

The name hits you hard, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid watching the room suddenly spin. Amaryllis, the one who stabbed you. Finnick set you up, he knew she’d be able to overpower you. It was their plan to join at the end, all along. They had to get you out of the way first.

He knew her younger sister, the thought forces its way through.

“I knew her younger sister.” Finnick says, as if he’s reading directly from your mind.

“Do you remember who killed her in your Games?”

There’s a beat of hesitation. It’s obvious that Plutarch is testing Finnick’s memory, seeing what he knows before he admits who’s in this room. You.

“Yes, it was a girl from District Two.” Finnick says slowly.

“What was her name?”

“She introduced herself as (Y/n).” Finnick says. “Why?”

“How old was she?”

“The same age as I was at the time. Why?” Finnick emphasizes.

“How did she die?”

There’s silence following the question, leading you to believe that it’s out of guilt, as if he’s going to admit it’s his fault. That he took on the One tributes because he knew Amaryllis would be more than happy to kill you. Neither of them planned on you barely making it out of that fight alive.

“Tell me why first.” Finnick then demands.

Plutarch sighs. “We believe we may have rescued her from the Tribute Center. Beetee’s research tells us she’s a tribute from your Games.”

“That can’t be possible, she bled to death.” Finnick shuts him down coldly. “She was stabbed by Amaryllis. She hid the wound from me. She died.”

“We—”

“I watched her die on a screen with the entirety of Panem during the three hour long recap.” Finnick cuts him off. “She died due to blood loss. She was my ally.”

Liar, you were never his ally. Just a stepping stone.

“Will you please calm down?” Plutarch asks. “We just want you to confirm that the girl in this room is her, that’s all.”

You think you can hear an annoyed sigh through the wall, then silence follows. Your eyes search the window, hungry to see if it’s actually him. A second later, the blinds rise up far enough to give you a whole look of his face.

Immediately, his tanned skin pales as if he’s seen a ghost, and you’re sure he has. Those familiar green eyes, his tanned skin. He’s grown into his face, that’s for sure. All those pictures the Capitol had been showing you are true. He looks exactly like he did in that interview, where he lied about Snow.

The blinds drop in the next second.

“How is that possible?” He demands, voice loud. “She died in the arena, I heard the canon. I saw her in the sky. I saw her during the recap. Mags told me she died because of the amount of blood she lost. How is she in there?”

“We—”

“Is she some clone?” Finnick asks. “A mutt?”

Mutt.

The room begins to spin violently, causing you to close your eyes again or else you’ll get sick from the intensity. Is that what he thinks of you? Just a mutt? You’re not even human to him anymore?

“The Capitol doesn’t have the technology to clone.” Plutarch clarifies. “Not yet, at least. They’ve been working on it. What they do is take samples of DNA and they splice it together with an existing mutt to give it the same qualities. Like the dogs in Katniss’s games.”

“Then how?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they took her, revived her in the hovercraft, and kept her in a coma.”

“Why? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Will you—” Plutarch’s voice briefly gets quieter, causing you to strain to hear. “Can you get Beetee? He should know.” His voice comes back into focus. “She might have qualities they can use. If she’s smart, a good fighter, if she’s pretty. They can use her for a number of things. Even reintroduce her as a Capitol citizen.”

“That makes no sense.” Finnick’s voice is quiet. “Why?”

Silence, and then suddenly static. “Beetee, are you still there?”

“Yes, Plutarch. What can I do?”

“I’ve sent a doctor your way to bring you to the hospital, there’s a small lockdown to keep families out. You’ll need him to get inside.”

“Do you need me to bring anything to the hospital?”

“No, but can you do me a favor and bring up the file on (Y/n) in the Capitol database? Usually they have information there on why they have dead tributes.”

“She’s not the first one?” Finnick asks.

“One moment.” Beetee tells him.

“No, she’s not the first.” Plutarch tells him. “But usually they don’t survive for more than a couple of years. She’s been alive in their care for ten.”

“You knew they were doing this.” It’s not a question, it’s an accusation.

“I knew of their projects, I never actually got to see them personally.” Plutarch clarifies. “I had access to a lot of information, I made sure to read through almost all of it when I became the Head Gamemaker so I knew what to expect when the rebellion came into play.”

“Where would they keep her?”

“Probably in the basement, where the victors would be taken care of for the recuperation week. There’s many rooms down there, just hidden behind walls. There could be dozens of tributes.”

Static interrupts their conversation. “There’s no notes, they must’ve deleted them.”

“Does it say anything?”

“It says, ‘saved, 65th’.”

Neither of them speak, taking in this information, or the lack of it.

An ear-bleeding scream fills the air, silencing the background noise of the hospital as everyone stops to listen. A voice shouts for Plutarch, so you assume he leaves to see what all the commotion is about. You don’t move from where you sit on the bed, but you do keep your eyes on the window.

No one comes to see you for a long time, whatever happened outside of your room must’ve been a surprise. You don’t mind sitting here, though. The more time passes, the better grip you have on reality. There’s no abstract shapes with bright colors floating around the room, and the voices are becoming quieter as they realize that you’re not listening.

You’re beginning to feel normal, your thoughts becoming clearer.

Once the hospital staff gets their situation under control, you’re back to being their first priority to figure out. Plutarch is nowhere to be seen, or heard. Maybe he’s disinterested in why you’re here, satisfied with the half-answers he got with Beetee. Maybe he’s searching the Capitol database, himself.

Either way, the doctors treat you like it’s an interrogation, and they don’t believe any of the answers you give them as they go on. Their questions are repetitive and irritating, thankfully easy to answer. It’s the basic stuff that the Beetee guy figured out through his research.

Who you are, how old you are, where are you from, if you participated in the Hunger Games, how old you were at the time, who did you kill, who were your allies, did you get injured, did you die, how did you survive, where have you been, how has the Capitol treated you.

It’s harder to answer them as the questions get more specific. You don’t know how you survived, other than what you were told, of course. The Capitol saved you from the arena because they saw how unfair the alliance between Finnick and Amaryllis was. It wasn’t your fault it was planned behind your back. They said you deserved a second chance, because if it weren’t for them, you would’ve been the victor.

And where have you been? The Capitol, obviously, where else? Only, when they ask you where in the Capitol, you direct them to ask Plutarch. After all, he was the Head Gamemaker, he’s the one that was snooping in on Capitol projects. He said so himself that you were probably kept where all the victors wake up.

All you know is that you were gassed unfairly by the hospital’s troops. When you say this, they ignore you, brushing you off. Then they claim that they have someone who wants to see you, and they collectively leave the room at once.

Your eyes narrow, watching the door.

It opens after a couple of minutes, revealing the boy who set you up. Finnick takes a step in the room, gently pushing the door shut until it clicks. You can feel every muscle in your body begin to stiffen, the scalpel beneath your thigh is burning a hole through your skin, lip starting to curl.

You grit your teeth, refusing to take your eyes off of him, even though you have a feeling you’re being watched through one of the windows. They’re messing with you, gauging your reaction on how to press your buttons. That’s why they sent Finnick in here, because they know what he did to you.

You move your hands to be on either side of your thighs, trying to seem casual. In actuality, this gives you an easier access to the scalpel when you go to stab Finnick. Who’s coming closer by the second, taking one step at a time, but not saying a single word. It makes it impossible to decide what to do next.

No, that’s wrong. You know what to do next. You were given instructions by the doctors in the Capitol. They said they could help you. All you have to do is kill him, or severely injure him for lying about Snow to Panem. If you do this, you can go home. You were told that you can see your family again if you go through with it.

Your heart pounds in your chest, hands gripping the metal bars of the bed frame, trying not to jump the gun. But as soon as he steps into arm’s length, you can’t sit still any longer. You launch off the hospital bed, hand swiping at the scalpel, slicing your hand in the process. A stinging sensation travels down your wrist, temporarily taking control of your mind.

It’s thrown away when you’re able to tackle Finnick to the ground, arm swinging to stab him in the throat. That will teach him not to tell lies. He’s just barely able to catch your wrist, arm trembling under your weight.

The doorknob to the room is being violently shaken, as the bystanders outside try to get the door open. There’s knocking at the window, several people shouting at you to stop what you’re doing. They don’t understand. They’ve all been manipulated by Finnick’s charm, if they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be trying to save him.

“You set me up!” You snarl, pressing down, wanting to finish the job.

Finnick stares back at you with an open mouth, like a fish out of water. The blood from your hand is being pulled by gravity, now. Little droplets on his grey jumpsuit, his tanned skin, his reddening face.

“You knew she was stronger than I was!” You snap. “That’s why you refused to kill her.”

“(Y/n).” He chokes out. “Wait.”

“You left me to die!” You shout, causing him to flinch. “And you almost got what you wanted, if it weren’t for the Capitol intervening. I bet it was a surprise seeing that your plan never worked.”

“You asked me to leave you there!” He argues, the room begins to spin, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to leave.”

The hospital room slowly starts to change, and the doubt of how real this situation is beginning to set in. The tile turns to grass, the walls become tall trees, and the ceiling is now a dark sky. It’s the middle of the night.

“That’s not true.” You tell him, “You’re a traitor. You knew I wouldn’t survive on that hill, and you left anyway.”

His jumpsuit is darkening in color, right around his stomach. Your face twists, trying to remember if you stabbed him or not. You couldn’t have, right? You’re still trying to get him in the throat.

“You told me to go.” Finnick insists. “I wanted to stay. I wanted to carry you to our base, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not what the doctors told me.”

“The doctors lied.” Finnick emphasizes. “I can prove it.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“(Y/n), I promise. Just let me talk to them—”

The sky shatters, causing you to flinch, Finnick shoves you off of him. The white hospital room is coming back, the scalpel slides across the floor, leaving a smear of blood out of your reach. You try to sit up, but you’re slammed down by a hard boot to your chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Get him out of here!” A man barks, referring to Finnick.

“Stop.” Finnick says, waving his hand. “Stop, she’s fine.”

He’s pulled to his feet by his armpits, being directed to the door by Plutarch, who glares in your direction.

“Take her out, we need to get her chained down.” He says.

“No.” Finnick objects. “No, she’s just confused. That’ll only make it worse.”

“She’s not confused.” Plutarch says back.

The man above you raises his gun in the air, the butt aimed at your face. The last thing you’re able to register is Finnick being dragged out of the room, begging them not to, before the gun comes down.

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mueritos · 9 months ago

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i hope we continue to see more protests within the US military. i see a lot of leftists and folks who are anti-military who have such an open disdain for the people who are in the military, yet neglect to considering the conditions this country makes to produce ideology, poverty, and the illusion of choice to make all kinds of people choose to enlist in the military. You ever see those videos of ROTC kids recording each other asking why they joined the military and everyone's like, "healthcare", "it helped me go to college", "I was bored" or "free ptsd lol". I hate to remind everyone but folks who are in the military are people, too, and they are the same victims and perpetrators of violence as the rest of you, we have all been shallowly conditioned to view each other as enemies just because one person is wearing army greens and the other is not.

some of the biggest anti-war advocates are those who engaged in war. Veterans who genuinely believed they were protecting the US against "terrorism" come back with blood on their hands, and they choose to realize that it was US imperialism that forced them to carry out violence, instead of doubling down and shielding themselves from the fact that they too are capable of atrocities... This is a class of people who are intentionally conditioned to be as poor and as ideologically aligned to US imperialism so that the military has a never-ending pool to send their youth to destroy other country's youth. The only people I have ever heard say "do not join the military" are those who ARE military.

This is in no way to ever excuse or explain away any of the atrocious war crimes and violence this industry and its people have committed against others. What I am saying is that we absolutely cannot cast aside the individuals who have been victimized within US imperialism, even if they are wearing army greens. I was speaking with my Palestinian classmate last week and another classmate--a member of the US air force-- walked up to me and struck up a conversation. My military classmate showed me her new bird, bid both of us goodbye, and left. My Palestinian classmate asked me if I was close with her, and I said we talked quite often, and she said, "I never met a person who's in the military. I still hate the military, but I never knew that they did, too. I didn't realize that they were also victims."

If my Palestinian classmate--one who is actively watching her own community die--can understand that it is not individuals who are the problem but it is in fact systems, US imperialism, white supremacy, capitalism...why can't we all? And she has EVERY reason to hate any individual military member. A lot of online activism just creates more barriers. if your optics look bad, complicated, or contradictory, you are cast aside. Everyone has got the be the perfect activist, you can never make a mistake or share a half-baked thought, you should always believe every word from a marginalized persons mouth (because being marginalized doesn't mean you're not entrenched in white supremacy too!) and you should never question what you see...Do you know what you sound like? The very imperialists who are convincing poor whites to vote against themselves. Perfectionism is white supremacy. Black & white thinking is white supremacy.

I'd rather have a military member who genuinely believed in the US imperialism machine but was disillusioned after being deployed as my comrade than some leftist who cherishes the performance of "being a good person". I don't want "good people" in our movements. I want humans who care. I want humans who make mistakes and who learn from them. I want humans who accept the messiness of a person. I want humans who hold others accountable and allow themselves to take responsibility for their actions. I want people who change for themselves and others.

fight systems, not individual people. we can change each other, but if we're too preoccupied looking like the World's Perfect Activists, we will only consume each other alive. Connect to your fellow humans, forever and always.

#muertotalks #a mind dump after seeing so much come out after the self immolation of the us air force member #i know hes not the first one to self immolate for palestine #and he might not be the last #i hate the military #i really fucking do #but i choose to see the people within them as victims within the overall system just like the rest of us #i will never go through what they did to make them choose to enlist #i never struggled with poverty homelessness healthcare or social acceptance #i wont shame them #shame is not productive #i want them to know there are civilians who support their protests #i want them to know that we their allies too #a note on my palestinian classmate #if youre arab or also a colonized person impacted by the us military feel free to hate every member of the military #i dont intend to police yall in how you choose to feel your anger #im angry with you #the point i mean to make is about understanding and compassion #someone who has every right to hate these people still chose to see them as the people they are #yes i even want the best for the “bad” people in the military too #i dont want these people to continue the ideology but we cant stop that without dismantling these systems #and we cant do that without creating spaces for healing and reform and growth #so many thoughts so many thoughts #none of this is easy #i fight daily against impulsively hating the world #everyday is a fight to choose compassion and understanding #but being a leftist and doing leftism is not fucking easy #if you genuinely think it is it isnt #and you may be missing the point of what leftism is #anyway

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queer-devil · 2 months ago

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DRDT Incorrect Quotes Pt 2

Bc it was fun last time

Same generator was used

Eden: Good morning!

Ace: Is it? Is it really?

J: You know what the problem is? Your really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your pie-hole.

Veronika: You think I’m cute?

J: SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE!

Nico: Hu, Ace keeps bullying me at school.

Hu: Ask your teacher for help.

The next day…

Nico, to their teacher: Will you help me beat up Ace?

Teruko: That's it, I'm cutting off the internet!

Nico: No, please don't! I have a family to feed!

Teruko:

Teruko: What?

Nico: I need to feed my Neopets!

Teruko: Is anyone going to tell me what's going on in here?!

Eden: It's kind of complicated, but Ace-

Teruko: Got it. Forget I asked.

Whit: Yo! I heard you like reptiles, got any fun facts?

Nico: If a crocodile eats your dad, they become your new dad.

Eden: Breathe, just breathe.

Arei: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure!

David: Awww, that never bothered you before.

Rose: I am not an early bird or a night owl. I am some form of permanently exhausted pigeon.

Whit: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited.

Charles: "If?"

Ace: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

Min: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

Whit: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue?

Rose: Technically a mix of green and blue?

Ace: So blurple.

Levi: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple.

Ace: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE?

Levi: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

David: What are the hardest things to say?

Charles: I was wrong.

Teruko: I need help.

Whit: Worcestershire sauce.

Teruko: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Charles and Whit's convo?

Eden: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Veronika: I'm in the washing machine.

Ace: I'm in the closet.

Eden: We accept you Ace.

Ace: No I'm literally in the closet.

Eden: Love is love.

Charles: There's nothing to do....

Whit: You can wash the dishes you promised to wash about a week ago.

Charles: *pulls out his phone* Nevermind.

Veronika, watching Ace: Ah yes. The mysterious and beautiful Ace…

Veronika: …I wonder what sort of melodic sounds this wonderful being makes?

Ace: *screaming*

Eden: What makes you think it's okay to watch Hannibal given its subject matter?

J: Sometimes, I watch television shows for entertainment purposes.

Veronika: Because I condone murder and cannibalism.

Teruko: Why would you give a knife to Xander?!

David, shrugging: Xander felt unsafe.

Teruko: Now I feel unsafe!

David: I’m sorry…

David: Would you like a knife?

J: I have a problem.

Veronika: Kill it.

J: Can you chill for like, two seconds?

Xander: Don’t go picking a fight with me. I could make your life difficult.

Ace, sarcastically: Wow. I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life.

Whit: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

Ace: Come to think of it… You’ve always been nice to me.

Ace: I mean, you listen to all my problems-

Levi: No, Ace I just simply stand here while you talk, there’s a big difference.

Eden: You know what I learned from my friendship with Ace?

Nico: There’s no such thing as too mean?

J: Never let your friends know for sure if you like them?

Levi: Always hold a grudge?

Levi: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you.

Nico: Being a fish.

Levi: …Well, shit.

David: I don’t mean to be rude—

Teruko: Yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often.

Hu: "Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

David: ...

David: What a stupid fucking quote.

David: I'm killing way more than two people, idiot.

Eden: You know, Teruko, when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Teruko: ...

Teruko: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

Levi: Hey, Ace, do you have feelings for me?

Ace: Yeah, anger.

64 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 8 months ago

Text

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again.

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good.

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation.

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you.

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks.

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower.

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake.

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love.

But this one, this one takes the cake every time.

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay.

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down.

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you.

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat.

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does.

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road.

He’s always amazed when you do that.

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately.

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you.

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you.

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it.

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos.

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently.

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep.

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow.

The next day though, something inside of you snapped.

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway.

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right.

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention.

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer.

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass.

He didn’t.

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple.

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table.

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers.

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.”

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop.

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other.

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door.

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick.

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again.

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.”

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep.

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed.

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck.

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited.

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep.

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate.

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious.

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now.

All week? Why hadn’t you told him?

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer.

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink.

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour.

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house.

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar.

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything?

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up.

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you.

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled.

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened?

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months.

Maybe it had been.

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours.

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t.

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently.

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose.

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that.

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined.

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same.

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it.

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day.

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do.

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit.

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her.

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you.

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later.

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him.

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway.

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could.

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler.

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school.

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised.

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you.

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler.

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities.

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned.

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation.

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed.

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word.

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?”

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human.

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next.

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle.

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door.

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face.

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you.

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting.

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word.

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old.

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards.

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently.

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you.

“You don’t, huh?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks.

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded.

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at.

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again.

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right.

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all.

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer.

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed.

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you.

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise.

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged.

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did.

“Oh my god!”

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling.

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards.

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it.

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke.

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly.

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her.

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie.

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets.

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned.

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt.

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console.

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you.

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders.

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”.

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time.

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed.

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced.

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again.

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level.

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face.

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed.

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again.

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

#eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpars writing #cw alcohol #cw injury #cw blood #easy like sunday morning universe #easy like sunday morning AU

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