#now he’s feeling the wrath of all those years of pent up annoyance

[snowblossomreads]

Day 16: Ways to Keep Warm

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Wife!Reader

Summary: In where Richard returns home, angry that the courthouse has been closed due to an impending blizzard, and [Y/n] finds a way to use that pent up energy.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Smut! (Oral fem receiving, allusions to female hysteria, penetrative sex), ownership of spouse (it was in the olden days lol), bold wife!, undue anger to servant, that's about it..?

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Evil cackles, if you're were looking for when Turpin was going to appear well wait no more! Please enjoy some warmth with him on these cold (depending where you are) winter nights : D. On ward to the smut. Also sorry for any mistakes of course (is past one am when im editing LOL)

MDNI

"Curse this bloody weather!"

The thunderous shout of her husband's voice seemed to shake the house as [Y/n] padded to the top of the staircase to find what the commotion was about. She hadn't expected him home for lunch, so to see him taking his coat off so aggressively and throwing it at Alice, one of their housekeepers, had her intrigued and mildly confused.

"Richard, my heart welcome home!" She called, coming down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you back from court so early. Is something the matter?"

"The only thing that is the matter is this wretched weather we have. I swear each year it gets worse," he complained harshly, sitting on the cushioned bench against the wall while pulling his snow-covered boots off. "The courthouse," he hissed, tossing the boot aside with anger, causing the women to jump at the loud thump it made. "Had to recess due to the beginnings of a blizzard. A blizzard, that caught me halfway on my trip back here."

Ah. That would explain the copious amount of snow that had been trekked in, and the many flurries that coated his clothing.

"I'm sorry love, I know how busy you are and I’m sure this isn’t quite the way you wish to spend the day," [Y/n] said sweetly in hopes her tone would assuage his irritation.

As she approached him, she eyed Alice, giving her a nod that meant for her to leave them be. She didn't want the poor girl to feel the wrath of her husband as he never did learn to keep his temper on a leash when things went awry with his schedule.

Curtsying quickly, Alice gave a grateful smile to [Y/n] as thanks before she silently departed to hang her lord's coat somewhere to dry. Going to hand the poor girl something else, when he looked up and saw she was gone, his nostrils flared in annoyance before he shouted,

"Where did that stupid girl go!"

"Richard enough," [Y/n] commanded sternly.

While she loved her husband and held him in reverence as many others did, she drew a line at the way he would talk about their servants. Angry or not. She would not put up with it, even from her husband who was the lord of the house and over her.

Had it been any other husband, they may have lashed out even more. Or worse yet, laid hands on her for being a disrespectful wife. But no, with Richard, he may seem cold with those icy eyes and stern demeanor, but when it came to her, he swore no harm would come to her by his hand or any.

So when she spoke sternly to him, he was neither offended nor angered. He only became silent as he tossed his other boot off with that large frown on his face. Honestly, for a man who seemed frightening to all, her husband very much hung on her words. Only showing his caring side towards her and only in their home.

"Now come, there is no need to for harsh words, I'll put the boots up," she said, picking them up and placing them neatly so no one would trip and maim themselves. "There is a fire waiting in the parlour where we can stay warm. Let us give it some company, and I shall have Alice draw you a warm bath to stave off the chill."

"I do not wish for a bath [Y/n]! I wish to be at court, sentencing those who believe their wrongdoings have no consequences."

A thought popped into her mind. Well if he couldn’t do his job and needed something to occupy him, well she had ideas.

"Well unfortunately, that will not be happening for the safety of you and the others but, if a bath is not what you wish for my lord, mayhap we can find a better occupation that can keep you from going mad?"

That seemed to catch his attention as he looked up at her with a glint in his eyes signaling he was at least pondering her words.

"And what would this occupation be?" He drawled in that rich baritone of his that would always set her body alight.

Smiling at him, she didn't answer, only walking past him and causing him to raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he followed her with his eyes. Once she was at the base of the staircase, she turned her head back to him, a smirk on her lips.

"It involves you following me to our bedroom, my Lord," she purred in the most enticing tone she could manage. "And making use of the energy that you have pent up from not being in court today. Unless you find this to also be not of your liking?"

That seemed to catch his attention, as he stood from the the bench and stalked across the hallway towards her. His strong thick body was quickly pressed up against [Y/n] who groaned sweetly at the feel of her husband behind her.

"Hmm, well if my sweet, and innocent wife is offering," he murmured, causing the hair on her neck to rise as his breath caressed her exposed skin. "I may be yet swayed from working while away from the court."

"Then come along," [Y/n] whispered, turning to face him as she placed her hand on his chest. "I shall endeavour to do my best, and to sway you from doing such a thing."

Her invitation was punctuated with her boldly pressing their lips in a kiss that was not at all chaste. Her tongue licked at the seam of his lips as if asking for permission, and if he was caught off guard by his wife who was usually shy and mild manner he didn't show it as he hungrily accepted her advances.

Their tongues immediately danced with each other as [Y/n]'s hand buried itself in his grey tresses, and a low groan rumbled from her husband's lips as he dominated the kiss.

Breaking away from each other out of breath, and already warmer than they just were, they shared a fleeting glance before they made their way up the stairs.

It was by some miracle, that he didn't take her on the stairwell for all of the servants to see with how many times they had to pause because one of them wanted their lips on the other. When they entered the room, he was already ripping at her clothes, desperate to have his wife's body bared and underneath him.

"Richard!" She gasped in surprise, as he pulled off her night dress that she had still been wearing, exposing her breast to the cold room and causing her nipples to pebble.

A whimper escaped her lips as he strolled behind her before cupping her chest with his large warm hands. Her back arched at his touch as he began to squeeze the mounds, massaging the delicate skin before pinching her nipples in between his thumb and index.

"Mhmm my lord," she whined breathlessly as she melted at his firm touches. It didn't take long before she was rubbing herself on his hardened member that she could feel straining for release in his trousers.

"Oh yes my pretty little wife," he praised, as he leaned down kissing her exposed neck that she granted him more access to by tilting her head to the side. "All bare and soft for me," he continued, sucking at her tender flesh causing her breath to hitch and higher-pitched moans to leave her. "So sweet and…"

He trailed off, one of his hands leaving her tit before travelling down to paw at her opening that was already soaking with desire for him. A loud, needy keen left her throat and he felt the sound go right to his cock that was straining for release.

"And wet for me just like a good wife should be," he crooned in her ear, as he pressed his thick fingers inside of her causing her to suddenly be on her tip toes as he entered her.

"Y-yes Richard my love ah all for you," she squealed as he began to thrust his fingers into her, stretching her wanting cunt. 

The squelching sound of her wetness filled the room as she moaned and whined blissfully as she took pleasure from her husband's skilled fingers. Two fingers became three as he readied her to take his manhood, and when he felt her body quaking against him and her cunt sucking at his fingers, he gave her one last thrust before pulling his digits out of her.

A tiny squeak fell from her lips as she was pushed towards the bed, causing her front to hit the edge of it before she climbed up and crawled towards the middle of it.

Flipping around, she let out a gasp as her husband was right on her heels, his undershirt and trousers already discarded with his pants leaving him naked with his cock standing at attention and weeping with his seed.

Heavens was the sight of her husband stalking over to her delicious. With the sparse smattering of grey chest hair on his broad chest, the slight belly he wore showing how healthy of an appetite he had, and the thick strong legs that she had more than once taken her pleasure on. The thoughts that swirled in her mind only made her body throb with want as she watched him get on the bed with her, towering over her with his stature.

He made her feel so safe, so loved, and with it came the need for her to submit to him, body, mind and soul and she was happy to do all of that.

"Take me, Richard," she wantonly begged bucking her hips in his direction as she offered herself to her husband. "Please fill me up I wish to be warm with your seed," she pleaded shamelessly to the only man who could make blood burn with such lust and want. The only man whose gaze burned her in the most pleasurable way whether he was angry or pleased.

"Greedy little harlot," he hissed, as he knelled in front of her spread thighs that glistened with her wetness and need for him.

A sudden thought filled the judge's brain at the sight of her dripping opening and the grin that grew on his features was predatory. His gaze shot a pang of excitement in her belly and before she knew it, he was pulling her towards him with such strength that she let out a clipped shriek.

Her legs were suddenly being put on his shoulder and her lower body was lifted up from the bed only to have her womanhood angled directly in front of his mouth.

"Richard!" She squeaked abashedly, never having been exposed like this to him but her surprise morphed into an incoherent noise as he began to nuzzle her swollen nub with his beautiful aquiline nose.

The sudden shock of pleasure had her legs going stiff and her hands gripping at the blanket as he alternated from nuzzling her clit to using his tongue to pleasure the swollen nub.

"Oh my- oh my lord Richard!" She croaked, his name falling from her lips in a broken cry as she began to grind her hips against his face while he feasted on her.

Tongue swirling around her nub, he used his fingers to open her dripping cunt before diving into her with his tongue, lapping at her sweet juices that drove him mad at the heady scent that came along with it.

High-pitched whimpers, along with his name, fell from her lips as if she were a woman hysterical. And she was, thanks to the pleasure that her husband showered upon her as she wiggled and moaned his name like a prayer. Her stomach clenched and unclenched uncontrollably at the assault of his tongue inside her, and the way his stubble would rub against her sensitive womanhood had her going insane. 

Her noises had him groaning, and his cock throbbing as it bobbed heavily against his stomach, straining towards his abdomen as it too was ready to taste the sweetness of her soaked cunt. It wouldn't need to wait long as Richard swirled his tongue in her opening once more before licking her slit to clit causing her to shiver.

"Exquisite," he groaned as he pulled away from her throbbing cunt that was swollen with need and shining with the mixture of spit and slick that dripped down her trembling thighs.

Grabbing her legs, and moving them so that they were around his waist, and her lower back was against the mattress now, Richard lined his manhood against his wife's opening before pushing the thick head past her entrance.

The burning stretch of him as he entered her body had tears pricking at her eyes and her lips parting in a silent cry. Inch by inch, he slid into her slowly, teasingly as she trembled beneath him.

She could never get used to how big he was. No matter how much he stretched her out, no matter if he brought her to her peak multiple times, her body would protest that she could not take such a thing when he entered her. Yet it always did.

"So bloody tight," he grunted, before he gave one last push that seemed to be the one that caused him to slip past the remaining resistant and into her velvety channel.

Panting loudly, she let out another watery moan that increased in volume as he finally pushed himself all the way inside her. Her cunt fluttered and squeezed around him as it got used to his size, and before she had time to calm her thumping heart, he pulled out before suddenly ramming back into her.

"Oh god!" [Y/n] sobbed, her back arched and her toes curled as a shock wave shot up her spine at how deep he had pushed himself into her. 

Arms going to wrap around his neck, she brought her husband closer as he began to thrust into her earnestly. Putting all his weight on her body as he moved his hips, he had trapped her beneath him as she writhed with pleasure easily finding the spot that had her insides trembling and her mind thinking of one thing.

"Richard," she pleaded, "yes yes yes, my love yes, please." Her words were incoherent and barely audible over the sound of his cock ravaging her aching cunt.

"Mmm, so warm, ugh, and tight," he growled near her ear causing her to whine and her insides to flutter around his cock. "So perfect for me do you know that my love," he praised as he pulled back to watch her with hooded eyes.

Their hips sat flush against one another each time he thrust in her with speed and force that a man who was twice his junior probably couldn't muster.

"Such a perfect wife thinking of how to keep her husband warm," he growled, as he watched her eyes roll in the back of her head, and listened to her whimpers become louder and louder as he felt her insides begin to spasm, signalling she was close. "Oh yes so perfect, ugh, with such a perfect body, and such a perfect cunt for her husband, " he praised even more, as he slipped a hand in between them to where they were joined just so that he could bask in the loud shriek that left her lips as he began to rub her clit.

She thrashed her head side to side like a woman mad, and her fingers gripped the sheets beneath her as he kept stroking her with both cock and fingers. The pleasure bloomed red hot in her veins and she felt that familiar tingle in her stomach that signaled she was close.

"That's it, there's my little wife," Richard growled, sensing her impending release and snapping his hips against hers relentlessly. His digits continued to rub messy circles against her at the same time causing incoherent noises and words to spill from her lips. "Come for your husband! Come for him so that he can spill his seed in your waiting womb. Be a good wife and let me put a babe in you [Y/n]!"

It was a mixture of his words, and thrusts that had her tumbling off the edge suddenly, and he followed with a loud grunt as her walls clamped down on him milking his aching cock for all its seed.

"Richard!" She sobbed, pulling him closer to her as she trembled from the shock of pleasure and feeling of his warmth spreading inside her.

His arms quickly went to wrap around his beloved as he grunted noisily in her ear while he filled her up. The soft pants and moans coming from him, caused her body to shiver at the deep sounds that buried itself into her bones as they laid spent from their activity.

They stayed in each other's arms, as Richard kissed her neck lazily, and she drew little circles against his neck. A sweet giggle would leave her lips from time to time when his stubble would rub her sensitive skin.

It wasn't until what felt like hours later, even though it was a few minutes, did someone speak.

"So," [Y/n] whispered as she raked her hand through her husband's grey locks. His usually stormy eyes, which were now clear, were trained on her as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Is my husband appeased with the activity that was suggested?"

"Mmm, I am very pleased," he purred, leaning down and kissing her lips passionately. She let out a noisy moan at his possessiveness and was breathless when he pulled away. "But," he started rolling his hips against hers causing her to moan as his cock dragged against her sensitive insides. "I fear my wife has made a mistake in thinking that spilling my seed once in her would rid my energy. No, I think we perhaps need to try it a few more times if you truly wish for me to relax darling."

"Oh no," she moaned as he began to thrust slowly biting her bottom lip. "I intend to make sure ah my husband has had his fill mmm and is thoroughly sated. What kind of wife would I be if I didn't?"

His eyes twinkled at her words before he slowly picked up the pace in what would be a long and pleasurable way to keep them warm as a blizzard began to rage outside.

A/N: hehe well i sure hope that warmed everyone up! Turpin is always a good choice for smut bc he is well..a horny man LOL.

Tag: @deepperplexity it's ur beloved Turpin!!

[depressedhatakekakashi]

i always had this little headcanon that shisui used to have a little puppy crush on kakashi (nothing big really i just thought it was funny) so when you once mentioned that hikari used to have a little crush on kagami i thought, oh my god the fates really said uno reverse dude-

If hikari and kagami were still alive theyd prob have thought its goddamn hilarious XD

Hikari would be laughing her butt off from the sideline. She thinks this is the biggest revenge the world could throw at Kagami (not that she’s upset with him. She got over it ages ago, she just thinks it’s funny)

Meanwhile Kagami’s sitting there like ‘yes shisui, i understand. Pretty Hatake. I know the pain, just please… please get over this crush of yours. For my dignity.”

Shisui does not and Kagami is going to never hear the end of it from Hikari 💜💜💜

[diaco1968]

Of Proud Fragile Hearts

Bakugou x reader

Angst, Blood is mentioned, Hanahaki disease

Under the cut cause it got too long :')

"What is your problem, Katsuki?"

You whisper yelled at Bakugou after everyone else had already left the conference room, closing the door and locking it as you turned to face the boy, leaning back in his chair, arms tightly crossed over his broad chest, scowling.

In the past few months that you two have been secretly hooking up, he had gone through not caring about your daily life, to trying to make you listen to his healthy tips, to fleeting episodes of jealousy and then some. Yet when you pointed it out to him he would deny it. Usually either by changing the subject and leading it to your usual ordeal of a hook up or if he was still feeling possesive by moving straight to pinning you down and shutting you up by some steamy make out session. Either way, the hook up is what would happen and then you'd both go away on your separate daily lives.

You had grown fund of him enough not to mind getting together with him if he was the one who'd step up first. Hell you would love to. He was hot, he knew how to spoil you, he remembered little things and despite his fiery temper he knew how to treat you properly like a woman. To sum it up, he was boyfriend material. Except he was emotionally unavailable. And you were fine with that. But recently as you started making friends with Kaminari, Bakugou also started acting up. You two acted like mere acquaintances in public and in the agency it was lonely. Then there was Kaminari, the Pikachu. He was easy to be around, easy to talk to and easy to listen to. So you befriended him. It was really nothing at all. You'd hang out with him when you couldn't hang out with Bakugou. Much to Bakugou's dismay, those times would be right in front of his eyes, earning you dirty looks and some sulking episodes every time.

And now only minutes ago during the briefing, he had been sitting across from you and Kaminari, and when Kaminari said anything he would mock and humiliate him. It was hard to even watch so you stood up for him and Bakugou shot you a nasty look before he stopped participating all together. Honestly you were glad he didn't start mocking you instead. But this behaviour towards the poor guy was unacceptable. He didn't even know why he was being targeted by Bakugou's wrath.

His eyes shot up to yours not believing what he was hearing. "What is my problem?! What the fuck is your problem!" He shot back, earning a 'Shhh!'  from you. "You had no business picking on Denki like that." You scolded and he sneered "Denki?" You rolled your eyes glaring at him as he went on "you had no business sitting with Denki the whole day long. You had no business snickering and chatting and flirting with him during the conference like that. You had no fucking business standing up to me for him!" He leaned forward in his chair, placing his arms on his knees.

"We were not flirting! Everyone knows about his crush on that recruit from the IT for fuck's sake. And Denki is my friend, Bakugou! Who are you? Should I have been sitting by you? Chatting you up?" You said harshly, sarcasm dripping off of your last few words. To his sheer surprise, he felt his chest tighten from the way you addressed him with his last name right after you called Kaminari by his first name. He knew you had a point. He knew he was the one setting things up the way they were, for his work always came first and in his path to success there was no place for a full time partner or dealing with the rumours of one even existing. He knew he had no right to complain about this now. Yet, he couldn't help the pang of jealousy that rose deep in his heart whenever he saw you hanging out with that dunceface so freely.

Your keen eyes seemed to have caught him slightly off guard and your own pent up hurt and rejection clawed at your logic before you could stop yourself and you went in for another low blow "even if I am flirting with anyone, it is none of your business unless it gets physical. That was the deal. Take it or leave it."

His jaw visibly clenched, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply before snorting "so that's the problem. You already have some one else for back up to warm your bed just in case, huh?" there was no way to take it back now, and he was too angry to try. You watched him in silence, disbelief and hurt written all over your face. At first he felt triumphant for rendering you speechless with his snarky remark but seeing the hurt in your eyes and your pursed lips he regretted opening his mouth at all. He wished you would just yell at him, punch him even. But you did nothing as a few minutes of torturous silence passed on between the two of you, your eyes searching his face for a sign that the man you loved and cared for didn't actually come to know you as such a person he just described. You had thought you were at least friends. He opened his mouth when he saw your eyes started to glisten but before he could say anything, you exploded.

"You know what Bakugou! Fuck you! You and your whole bullshit!" You threw the first thing you could grab at him which happened to be an empty glass, that missed his head when he docked shattering on the wall behind him. "You're so emotionally unstable, you don't even know what the fuck you want yourself! Let alone get to know anyone else you arrogant piece of shit!"

His brief sadness from making you upset faded from his mind as rage took it's place filling him up to the brim and spilling out as he shot up in his place, his chair scraping on the floor and falling back. He slammed his hands on the table in front of him, saying words he had come to feel anxious even thinking about hearing "oh fuck it all to hell. You wanna know what I want, fuckwipe? You're a waste of time, I want this over and done with. We're through!" He headed for the door walking right past you.

His insult really dealt some heavy damage on your pride as angry tears filled up your eyes and you gathered all you had not to let them spill "fine with me Fuckboy! Go be a nuisance to someone else!"

He had his hand on the doorknob, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping it with anger, he pulled it once and found it locked. Not bothering to unlock it, he exploded the whole thing open loudly, the door turning on it's hinges and slamming on the opposite wall, him stepping out and leaving amidst the dust barking at the peering colleagues who scattered away immediately "what?! Get back to work extras!"

You left the room after you made sure he was gone, hoping you could hold your emotional breakdown in the whole way home, having to raise your hand up to your mouth to suppress the multiple coughs as you inhaled the dust from the explosion.

He kicked his boots off, threw his jacket to the side and plopped down on the couch covering his face with his hands and releasing a heavy groan "ugh what the actual fuck did I say... stupid fucking dumbass..." his hands were cold and fingers shaky from the after effects of the rage leaving his body but he was too stubborn to let remorse invade his mind yet. Not fully at least. You were at fault too! "She shouldn't have provoked me like that! Annoying brat!" He spat as he lay down on the couch, but In the back of his mind, your hurt glistening eyes and shocked expresseion was creeping in the darker abyss of his brain, haunting him slowly. Then his mind wandered to the argument, your words resonating in his now mostly dark and empty mind.

'Who are you Bakugou?'

'Take it or leave it'

The way you said that so nonchalantly... did you not care at all if he left you?... after all you've been through? He wouldn't ever say it, but he had opened up to you more than anyone, you knew that. He knew you did.

'Fuckboy'

'Nuisance'

His throat constricted violently and he had to sit up and cough harshly to clear it. "Tsk fuck it. I don't give a shit." Rising from his seat he went to the fridge to get something to eat and grabbed his phone to call Eijiro to see what he was up to tonight.

~

"You've been sick for a while now, maybe you should see a doctor? It doesn't look like a simple cold..."

Bakugou waved his hand nonchalantly, dismissing Kirishima's concerns as he coughed into the palm of his other hand, shutting his eyes and trying to concentrate on controlling his breathing through his nose. Even though he feigned indifference he was worried himself too. It's been 2 weeks since the coughing started and it wasn't just coughing either. He would occasionally find himself out of breath and unable to get enough oxygen in his lungs without opening his mouth and taking in a sharp gulp of air. As if he was losing his lung capacity. '(Y/n) would know how to get rid of this...' he groaned in annoyance as he caught himself thinking about you again. You had made your choice. It was obvious. He even texted you to meet up, but you've been ignoring him ever since the argument half a month ago... felt like years...

His heart clenched, along with his jaw as he felt another epiode of coughs coming. He rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom "be back in a sec." He replied to Kirishima's questioning look with a hoarse voice. The noise cancelling bar bathroom was starting to become too familiar for his liking, as he had frequented it quite often in the past 2 weeks. Not alcoholic often, but the free time he usually spent with you was now spent working over time or with Eijiro at his favorite place...

He burst out into another coughing fit, gripping the sink as he bent over it. He could feel a hard lump move in his throat as he heaved his lungs out, finally managing to spit out what was stuck in his airways. And to his utmost horror he was not relieved at all by the sight and the sound.

What spilled out of his mouth and scattered inside the sink with soft 'thud' sound, was a fist full worth of what looked to be... seeds?!

His hand shot out and grabbed a few bringing them close to his eyes and squeeshing them between his fingers to make sure. "What the fuck...?!" He whispered mind wandering to each and everyone of his recent quarells with the villains trying to recall anyone at all with a floral quirk. Was this what caused the coughing?

It took him quite a while to get over the initial shock but when he was sure he wasn't coughing anymore he headed back to his table with Kirishima, plopping down tiredly in his seat. "You look pale bro, what's up? You weren't a light weight last time I checked." Eijiro teased, making him smirk tauntingly in reply "I can drink 5 times as much as it takes to knock you off your feet and still be barely tipsy, dumbass. Don't test me." They both laughed and Bakugou forgot about his problems for a little while, hoping spitting out those seeds was the end of it.

And it seemed to be. He hadn't coughed for a while now. At least not until the breaking news popped up over the screen right across from where he was sitting.

"The notorious spider villain escaped the law once again but hero (your hero name) managed to save all the victims, with the help of none other than hero Deku, who just landed a few hours ago for his vacation-..."

The words flashed in his mind and the voice of the reporter faded as he watched the screen showing the scene after the rescue, where you were talking to that bastard Deku, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with a grin, like you used to do when Bakugou made you shy and you never had any idea how cute it made you look, and he was smiling down at you.

Violent coughs errupted out of his chest and he covered his mouth just in time to stop the content from spilling out as he shot up from his seat and made his way outside for some fresh air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gasped for air lightly, leaning on his shoulder on the wall outside, opening his palm to see the same few seeds and a bunch of delicate red and white petals. He stared at his palm with wide eyes for a few more seconds before crumbling them in his fist as he felt someone's presence behind him. "I really really think you should see a doctor." Kirishima put a hand on his shoulder.

"I will. Right fucking now actually. This shit is so annoying."

~

"I said when I cough flowers come out- ugh! Hey! I know I sound crazy! Don't stare at me like that!" He let out a frustrated groan as he sat there on the bed for his check up, answering the confused doctor. "We have not encountered this before mr Bakugou, you don't sound crazy. I would have to check the database again for quirks with this kind of side effect. Meanwhile if you could... provide a sample would be really useful."

"Sure, I'll just cough my lungs out for buried seeds till you get back..." Bakugou clicked his tongue and gestured for the doctor to show it was okay to go do whatever he needed to do.

And again he sat there alone and annoyed, watching the rest of the hospital, from the little space he was provided by the door that the doctor forgot to close properly.

You always refused to close the door too...

He had forgotten how lonely a hospital felt before he had you to fuss over him as he sat there grumbling that he was fine.

He heaved a careful sigh zoning out so when he saw your face, he thought he had imagined it at first.

"Ms. (Y/h/n)! You did amazing today! The room you're looking for is just at the end of this corridor to the left. You actually did a good job finding it." The excited nurse chuckled and Bakugou snapped out of his daze hearing your muffled voice thanking her.

'Always so bad with directions...' he thought bitterly swallowing the lump that was raising in his throat in favour of getting up and following you quietly. He just wanted to know why you were in the hospital, is all. Just making sure your clumsy ass didn't hurt yourself.

He stopped outside the door you disappeared into on the other side of the corridor, blended in by the moving patients and busy staff, scoffing sarcastically as you didn't bother closing the door.

His little smile was soon gone however when he saw who you were visiting.

Sat there on the hospital bed was none other than Deku, who had his forearm wrapped in some light bandage. Probably from the rescue they showed on TV earlier. Where you were too. It was normal. You checking up on him after. Totally normal. He reminded himself. 'I could do that at home shitty nerd, no need for a hospital.'

Normal was not where it ended though and what happened next as you got up to leave had Bakugou wishing he had ripped his eyes off you and walked away the moment he had figured you were alright.

"Guess I'll be seeing you around then. Oh and Midoriya," you chuckled mischievously leaning close to whisper in the boy's ear. "I wish you luck with Ochako." Just as you expected, heat rose to his face and he flushed red to the tips of his ears as he started stuttering embarassed and his hand moved up to rub his bandaged arm "ouch!.. I mean!... thank you!"

You both jumped as you heard something metal clattering to the ground in the hallway and you peeked out to see what was going on. Much to your surprise and concern you saw a familiar spiky blonde hair a little further down the corridor. 'Katsuki?' You leaned out of the room more to see better. He looked like he had a terrible time trying to breathe, his shoulders shaking as he heaved cough after cough, bent down with his arms keeping himself up on his slightly bent knees. Your heart clenched at the sight. He looked in pain. The nurse Bakugou had supposedly crashed into, causing him to drop his metal platter to the ground put a hand on his back to try and calm him down. But Bakugou just swatted his hand away "...don't... touch..." he managed to rasp out with an unusually hoarse voice as he gained enough composure to push past the nurse and walk away, still coughing but much less violently.

"What was it?" Deku asked from inside the room.

"Nothing, just a nurse dropping a bunch of stuff..." you said quietly concealing the worry in your voice as you stared after Bakugou down the corridor even after he was already gone.

Blood. Blood and petals. And the occasional flower bloom falling out of his mouth as he coughed. He had been wiping blood off his mouth since he had gotten home from the hospital. The feeling of constantly having one of those petals sticking to the back of his trachea. It was disgusting. The sickening sweet scent filling his nose and mouth made him want to gag. They had suggested hospitalization when they couldn't find anything on his condition and he had refused. But now as the pain in his throat grew ever more intolerable, he was trying his last hope for an answer as he looked for the contact in his phone, playing with the little flower in between his fingers with his free hand absentmindedly.

'Amaryllis...'

He had looked up the shape of the flower as soon as he had seen it, washing the blood off the petals. None of this made any sense to him. How does one cough out flowers? How was this even real?

He dialed the number immediately when he saw the contact name.

"Aizawa sensei"

~

Despite your efforts to completely ignore Bakugou's existence after your 'break up', you've had Baugou back on your mind ever since a few days ago in the hospital and it wasn't in the best of ways either. His tense shaky shoulders, his harsh hoarse voice, his pained dry heaves. It all sounded and looked so serious but you had no idea what he was down with and it was killing you. You were constantly distracted and it was proving to be such a hassle. Oh how you wished you were not alone in this very moment. Alone in the middle of a crowded square full of civilians.

"What's wrong girly? Can't beat me now without that green lettuce, huh?"

Alone against this dude known as the spider villain. Who was back to take his revenge on the humiliation you and Deku gave him last encounter.

"Oh fuck off bug. Those are your last words before being sprayed back to the sewers?"

You growled getting in your fighting stance and ushering him to come at you.

Bakugou was walking down the street towards the hospital, crumbling the piece of paper with the surgeon's address and name in his fist, deep in his pocket thinking on his meeting with his former teacher a few days ago.

'Amaryllis?' Aizawa had said the moment he saw the bloom in Bakugou's hand, much to his surprise. He never took the old man as a flower person. 'I've only ever seen this once with my own eyes when I was a student myself... wouldn't believe it if I hadn't.' He had pulled out a bunch of old books handing half the stack to Bakugou, probably deliberately chosen ones as there was one on the meaning behind flowers in Bakugou's stack. As he sat down in front of the boy turning pages rapidly scanning the words, Bakugou reluctantly read the book.

'Amaryllis is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae. It is a small genus of flowering bulbs, with two species. It symbolizes pride.'

He stared at the lines, reading them over and over again with a blank face. Until Aizawa's voice broke him out of his trance.

'Hanahaki Disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated...'

He paused making Bakugou wonder if it was for adding more dramatic effects as his eyes moved up to lock with Bakugou's

'...until the victim dies unless the feelings of genuine love are returned or the plants are surgically removed but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured.'

It was obvious what Bakugou chose. There was no place in his life for such a hassle as love. It would just get in his way anyway. What a nuisance...

'Nuisance'

'Fuckboy'

His heart clenched making a surge of pain go throught his whole body remembering your words and your tone.

"Reciprocating feelings of genuine love my ass..."

He scoffed pushing his fists deeper in his pockets to keep his shoulders from shaking as a series of coughs ripped out of his throat, staining the black mask in front of his face, with blood.

He bumped shoulders with a guy in front of a TV store who looked distraught enough not to recognize Ground Zero as he apologised and turned back to the TVs on the display in the windows.

Feeling insulted, Bakugou turned to look at what this man was watching that got him so stupid to stand in his way. The moment his eyes met the screen he felt as if his heart stopped. Hands freezing cold and eyes going wide with terror as he watched the live report of none other than you being picked up and thrown a distance away aginst a wall by some villain.

Lying there in the rubble of the building you gasped to catch your breath that flew out of you when your back hit the wall. Before you could wholly come to your senses he was above you again, grabbing you by the neck and picking you back up. Your hands shot up to grab his arm to try and relieve the pressure around your neck, your feet dangling in the air as you tried to kick him off of you but he was smart, keeping you away from himself.

"Just as I thought. I should've found the broccoli. You are a waste of time."

Bakugou's face and a bunch of memories flooded your mind and your eyes stung with unshed tears, feeling it ironic to have to hear this again in what appeared to be the final moments of your life.

The corners of your vision were blurring out as you couldn't breathe in anymore air and you were sure you imagined his voice in your head.

"Get off you fucking bastard!"

The loud growl accompanied by the sound of a loud explosion and the hand around your neck disappearing, the pressure gone. You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees gasping in and looking up to see Bakugou launching himself at the guy who was framed in the opposite wall due to the initial explosion. His bare fist met the bug man's face with a sickening 'crack' and only then did you realise he wasn't even in his hero costume.

"Bakugou... I'm fine..."

You tried calling him but your voice was too strangled. He was delivering punch after curse after punch and the guy seemed to be knocked out long ago.

"Bakugou! Stop..."

You said louder as you got to your feet making your way towards him, hesitating momentarily before grabbing his shoulder and ripping him off of the bloodied beat up guy.

"KATSUKI!"

His whole heavy sweating panting body whirled around and crashed into your arms, making you trip backwards on your feet and fall on your butt still holding him.

Very unlikely for him to be so ungraceful and fall with you like that, he would usually catch you and scold you for being clumsy. Out of habit you braced yourself for his scolding but it never came.

He started wheezing and gasping in your arms, unable to breathe, whatever air he had left in his lungs being forced out by the violent coughs that wracked through his whole body, his hands moving up to grasp at his throat squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"F-fuck... h-hurts..." he wheezed out twisting in your lap as you watched him in terror.

"W-what's wrong? Holy shit! Katsu you're turning blue!"

You didn't know what took over you as your hands moved on their own accord, grabbing his jaw, forcing his mouth open and plunging your fingers down his throat. What you pulled out would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.

Bakugou started gasping in big gulps of air when you removed your hands from his face, but you couldn't see him anymore. You were staring at the thing that was previously clogging his airways. A whole, leaf, stem and flower petals between your fingers, dripping with fresh blood and saliva; mouth falling open and paling even more, if possible, at the sight.

Bakugou looked up once he could breathe again and couldn't help but whimper quietly at the thing you just pulled out of his own throat. The sound making your eyes snap back on him even more concerned than when he was choking. "What the fuck is this?!" You asked showing him the flower, as if either of you could ever forget about it, instinctively cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. He looked surprised and you immediately realised your mistake pulling your hand away "sorry force of habit... but... answer me!"

Your touch was soothing to the ache in his damaged throat and he was so in pain already that he didn't care if he was going to sound pathetic or needy or clingy... or... sorry. He opened his mouth to tell you to put your hand back on him but instead of words he had to cough, fresh blood mixed with the sickly sweet scent of the flower spraying over both your clothes, making you panic again.

"I'll tell you later... just... give me a sec...please..." He whispered embarassed and grabbed your hand placing it back on his cheek, lowering himself down on his shaky arms and laying over your legs exhausted. His voice sounded so tired and broken that despite yourself, you chose to just let him have a moment for now without making him talk.

~

You stroked the back of his hand absent mindedly careful not to touch the busted knuckles, watching his sleeping face as he lay in the hospital bed. He looked terrible. Pale skin, bags under his eyes. You could swear he had also lost some weight. How long has he been coughing for? How much blood?His face twisted in pain and you jumped as he stirred with a cough, opening his eyes and staring at you blankly.

His eyes moved over your features in silence with a soft expression on his own face, watching your glistening bright eyes, wide with concern. The way your hair framed your face, your eye lashes making your eyes look even more beautiful, your lips pursed with worry. Then moving as you talked...? He was so concentrated he barely heard your voice.

"...- yeah?"

"Yeah..." he replied softly.

"Yeah?!"

His mind started to clear up more as he raised an eyebrow uncertainly "uh... no?"

You laughed at his weird behaviour and he smiled. He had missed it. Missed seeing it. Hearing you laugh.

"You weren't listening to me, were you?"

He offered an apologetic look "yeah...sorry."

You shook your head softly "nah it's fine, wasn't important."

He suddenly looked very serious "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said those things. I didn't mean any of them."

You stared at him blinking in confusion before realising what he meant. Bakugou was apologizing! You opened your mouth and closed it again, speechles. Clearing your throat you tried again.

"Yeah those really hurt..."

He could feel his heart drop as he looked at you wondering if it was actually over.

"I forgive you, stupid. Stop looking so pathetic." You rolled your eyes and grinned pinching his cheek.

"God I fucking love you so much... be mine again?"

You couldn't help blushing as you nod your head "you're such an asshole... but I can't help loving you either."

His eyes lit up, relief washing over him as he raised his hand cupping your cheek and bringing your head close, leaning in to kiss you.

"Wait! What was the deal with that flower-!"

"Shhh I'll tell you later...just..."

He looked down at your lips as he trailed off, licking his lips and pressing them against yours firmly.

And to this day, you still think he wanted to give you the flower and he chose the creepiest weirdest way to do it.

Nah just kidding.

He said he fell down and swallowed it by accident...

[jenonctcity]

Chances - Part 6

Na Jaemin/Huang Renjun – Fluff/Angst

Ex-husband!Jaemin/Husband!Renjun

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None.

Request: Requested by anon – Your past with Jaemin, the pregnancy, the divorce, and how you meet and marry Renjun.

A/N: Just in case this is confusing for anyone, this is part of the Chances series. It does go with the current story of Chances and is going to be set out like a timeline of the events that happened before the series took place. However, it can be read as a standalone piece or like a prequel. But I would recommend checking out the other parts of this series if you get confused. Hope you enjoy!

 Meeting Jaemin:

University was kicking your ass. Between your daily classes and your demanding job at a restaurant, you were left feeling tired and emotionally drained. You didn’t have a choice but to carry on though, money being tight and your education costing you far too much money to skip any nugget of information they were willing to provide you. You had little to no social life, the only person you really interacted with was with your roommate, who herself wasn’t much of a talker. Loneliness consumed you at all the wrong times, it mostly happened late at night after a shift at the restaurant. You’d tuck yourself into bed and let out a sigh, wishing you could cross the room and nudge your roommate awake for a chat. But you didn’t know the girl well enough to do that and you were almost certain it would make her dislike you.

The day you tripped down a couple of steps at university from not paying attention to your feet as much as someone as tired as you were should have, was the day that changed your life. Your wrist was causing agony to throb through your nerves, all your pain receptors on red alert and forcing you to call in sick to work to head to the emergency room. It was absolutely heaving with people of all ages due to it being a Friday evening. There were only 3 seats left available and you weighed up your options as you studied the people, they were situated next to. A drunk couple who both had similar cuts on their foreheads, you could only assume they’d done something highly dumb to end up with those injuries. An old man who was slouching into the free seat next to him as he started dozed off, his eyes dark underneath like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked like he tried to fight off sleep until he started to have a coughing fit, sitting up straight and coughing into his hands. And finally, a young man who had bleached blonde hair dyed a light pink, dressed from head to toe in a black adidas tracksuit, his arms folded across his chest and his knee jittering as he waited. You were unaware what he was waiting to be seen for as you couldn’t see any physical injuries on him, but as you looked between all three options again, you decided he was the lucky winner.

You quickly approached him, hugging your wrist to your chest as you cleared your throat, gaining his attention as he looked up at you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, smiling weakly at him.

“No, go ahead.” He copied your smile, watching you for a moment as you sat beside him. You looked around the emergency room, trying to find something remotely entertaining to watch, also regretting that you didn’t bring the book you’d been trying to finish for the past 2 months with you. “What did you do to your wrist? Or is it your hand?” You heard the boy ask you, his voice deep and his tone was warm.

“I er…tripped down some stairs.” You looked at him and laughed softly. “Not my finest moment.” You winced as you jostled your wrist by accident when you moved it to your lap instead of cradling it to your chest. “What are you in here for? You don’t look like you did something dumb and injured yourself.” You tried to joke with him, this being your only form of entertainment. The longer you looked at the handsome boy the more you became self-conscious of you what you assumed was your messy state. You hadn’t actually seen your reflection since you’d left your dorm that morning, but you presumed your hair had gotten messier, and your mascara had smudged from the tears you’d shed upon your unexpected meeting with the hard ground.

“Oh no I’m not here for me, I’m just here as support.” He flashed you a wide smile, motioning to the boy sitting beside him whose eyes were swollen shut. “Dummy over here forgot about his hay fever allergies and went running through a field of flowers like Bambi on crack.” He sniggered when his friend reached out to hit him but missed due to his lack of eyesight. Merely swiping at the air and just missing someone as they walked past.

“Hey! just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t hear, you ass.” His friend whined, folding his arms over his chest like a disgruntled child. You giggled at the two of them, your eyes feeling crusty from the dried tears when your smile reached your eyes.

“Pipe down Jeno, you’re lucky I brought you here and didn’t just leave you to blindly make your way here after you drank my banana milk.” Jeno didn’t reply, only sinking further into his seat as he sulked. Jaemin turned his head back to you and smiled again, his eyes raking over the span of your face and he couldn’t help but think about how naturally beautiful you looked. Even if you did have smudged eye makeup and needed to comb your hair. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N), I’d shake your hand, but I kind of can’t right now.” He smiled warmly when his attempt of a joke made you giggle.

“Maybe some other time.” You didn’t realise what your words insinuated even after you’d said them. But he noticed straight away, nodding his head eagerly.

“I hope so…I’m Jaemin.”

 The Pregnancy:

Your relationship with Jaemin had been going strong for the past 7 years. In that time, you’d both finished your education and secured jobs that were not only financially stable, but also gave you good amounts of time to be together, unlike the jobs you both held back when you first met and started dating. On your five-year anniversary, Jaemin had popped the question to you and within a year you were named Mrs Na.  You also both agreed to move out of your cosy – Jaemin would call it cramped, but you preferred cosy – apartment, and move into one with more room for your family to grow. It started off with the two of you getting a hamster, which Jaemin wanted to name Megatron Fire Blaze, but you shot that idea down with a death stare and the hamster ended up being named Tony.

A few months after your seven-year anniversary you’d dropped the pregnancy bomb onto Jaemin. He was thrilled and wasn’t too proud to admit he bawled his eyes out like teenage girl watching a sad movie about a tragic love story. Your pregnancy was going smoothly apart from the tiny feet that would aggressively kick your insides every now and then. You were also certain your baby was learning to tap dance and using your bladder as its dance floor, also, the uncomfortable and inconvenient need to pee was starting to drive you insane.

“What do you think of the name Sooyoung for if it’s a girl?” Jaemin asked, neither of you facing each other as you laid with your back pressed to his chest in the bed. The turned down sound of a movie neither of you were paying attention to on the television acted as background noise as you both focussed more on your conversation. Despite both of you having your eyes trained onto the movie, neither of you could tell someone what was going on with the storyline if asked.

“Hmm…no I’m not feeling it.” You sighed in annoyance, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Our baby is never going to have a name at this rate, I just don’t like any names anyone is suggesting!” Jaemin remained silent for a moment, not being able to see much of your face from the angle he was laying at.

“You’re not going to cry are you…?” He was still learning to deal with the crazy ways your hormones would affect your moods. It still baffled him how one second you could be laughing at a funny post you’d seen on twitter and then the next you were crying about how you couldn’t reach the remote for the tv without getting up from the comfort of the sofa. He would often think back to the time Jeno commented on how your hair looked really full and colourful during your pregnancy and instead of taking it as a compliment you’d started crying in Jaemin’s arms, stating how horrible your hair must look normally and how you were just going to shave it off. Jeno had paled and immediately tried to backtrack on his words. The poor boy feeling the wrath of your pregnancy hormones. He tried not to laugh at the memory when you were around, just in case you asked him why he was laughing.

“No…” You bottom lip wobbled as you tried to hold it together, willing the tears to go away.

“What about…Joohyun? Seulgi?” You elbowed Jaemin in the ribs gently, causing him to groan as you turned to face him with your eyebrows pulling into a scowl.

“Now you’re just naming the members of Red Velvet!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as you caught onto his idea.

“Sorry!” He paused as he racked his brains, his lips pouting as his thoughts ran wild. “I like Mihyun.”

“Mihyun…” The name rolled off your tongue nicely as you repeated it again and again before concluding. “I love it, if our baby is a girl its Mihyun.” You smiled warmly, snuggling into Jaemin’s hold as much as you could with your big bump in the way. You both remained quiet for a while before Jaemin piped up.

“If it’s a boy, he shall be named Optimus Prime.”

“We are not naming our baby after a transformer!!!”

 The Divorce:

Na Mihyun was born on the 3rd of August. You and Jaemin had never felt more overjoyed and filled with love as what you did when you held the tiny infant in your arms for the first time. The second Jaemin heard the shrill cries of his daughter, the tears he couldn’t keep in rolled down his cheeks from pent up emotions popping like an overfilled balloon. Neither one of you could wait to take home the little life that was a symbol of your love for one another. However, things started to go sour within weeks.

The first argument was caused from Jaemin going out late with a few of his work friends. It didn’t bother you that he was going out and having fun, what bothered you was the text he sent you at 11pm that read ‘Will be another hour, don’t wait up’ after he’d promised you he’d be in before 11. It sent a spark of irritation amongst your body, but you tried to ignore it, knowing he had every right to go out and have some fun after being cooped up at home for the past few months with you. The hour passed and there was still no sign of Jaemin. After another half an hour you decided to call him, but he didn’t answer. Anxiety acted like a flood around you as the thought of him being hurt raided your mind, and the stress of being a new mother on your own and losing your husband began to make you sink in the pool on anxiety. You drowned in the feeling and it brought on a panic attack. You thanked god that Mihyun hadn’t woken up during that time, not knowing if you could have coped. He stumbled into the apartment at 4am, waking up your new-born and the anger pent up inside you. You gave him the silent treatment for a day before a big argument blew up, harsh words exchanged between you.

More arguments ensued throughout the next couple of months. Arguments over petty things, and you found that the two of you would argue for the sake of arguing at times. Leading to Jaemin spending most nights sleeping on the sofa, a hostile air between the two of you. You were miserable. And you didn’t want to feel like that when you should be enjoying your baby girl’s life. You didn’t want Jaemin feeling that way either. With the headspace you were in, you didn’t think there was any other options other than to go your separate ways.

“Jaemin, I need to talk to you.” You’d cornered him in the kitchen where you’d just come from your bedroom after putting Mihyun down for her afternoon nap.

“About what?” You longed for the days when his tone was soft, bringing comfort to you when you needed it the most. You’d already had a disagreement that morning, so his tone was unfriendly towards you. He turned to look at you from where he was making a sandwich on the kitchen counter, furrowing his eyebrows at your face as you silently cried. You heart breaking at the words you were about to drop on him.

“I can’t do this anymore…what happened to us? We hardly ever act like a loving couple anymore Jaemin and we can’t agree on anything anymore. I don’t want to fight every day; I just want a peaceful life with my daughter.” You gulped, starting to sob as you shook your head. His stomach sank, unease settling in the pit of his gut as he knew what you were about to say. “I want a divorce.”

“(Y/N) no…please we can work on this!” He abandoned his half-made sandwich, feeling numb and not knowing what to do other than to beg you to stay with him. “Baby don’t leave me.” He rushed to you, trying to take your hands in his own but you snatched them away, shaking your head and taking a step back.

“No…please just pack your things and go.”

“But I still love you…” He whispered, his voice cracking as a sob left his lips. You sighed, turning your back to him.

“Go.”

 Meeting Renjun:

Your divorce went through a lot quicker than you expected, and within a few months you were back to being a Miss. Life as a single mother was surprisingly easier than you thought, but that was probably because Mihyun was only just half a year old and had only just mastered the art of sitting up on her own. She had started to teeth also, which meant many sleepless nights for you, but you didn’t care because she was your only priority. You knew times would get tougher as she got older, but you couldn’t worry about it until it happened. After you and Jaemin separated, you both decided neither of you should keep the apartment, and you both moved into your own apartments. So even after living your new home for a month, you were still in the midst of decorating the place to your standards, loving that no one could tell you what you could and couldn’t put up on the walls. You did miss Jaemin, but you didn’t dwell on the feeling, knowing it wasn’t mentally healthy for you to live in the past when you had a whole fresh start ahead of you.

The apartment building you moved into was a new build, so all the apartments were slowly getting filled up with residents. All morning you could hear scuffling noises coming from the previously empty apartment next-door, so you assumed someone now occupied the living space. You went on with your day as you normally would, entertaining Mihyun as she tried to crawl around. In the end you put her in her walker, letting her cruise around the apartment to her own free will. You were engrossed in a silly tv programme that made little to no sense when a knock echoed through the halls.

“One Second!” You called out as you rose from the sofa, noting that Mihyun was fine in her walker. “You going to follow mumma?” You giggled when she grinned at you with her new front teeth, waddling after you in the confines of her walker. You smiled when you opened the door, met with an attractive man who looked to be around your own age. He had dark brown hair with matching brown eyes, his smile warm as he bowed to you.

“Hello! I just moved in next door, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.” He motioned his head towards his apartment as he spoke. “My name is Renjun.” He held his hand out to you and you quickly shook his hand with a smile. You detected an accent as he spoke Korean but couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

“I’m (Y/N), its nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, is it just you living here?” You noticed his glance at your hand, missing the slight raise of his eyebrows when he saw no wedding ring on your finger.

“No actually, I have this little terror living here too.” You opened the door wider to reveal your daughter, still sat in her walker and staring up at Renjun with wide curious eyes.

“Oh look at you!” He gasped, crouching down to her height and admiring the beauty of the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Mihyun.” You smiled in pride as you watched him coo over your child.

“Hi princess, aren’t you beautiful?” He chuckled when she pointed a hand at him and starting to giggle at him.

“She already likes you.” You folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m glad I have her approval.” He looked up at you with a soft smile, standing back up to his full height. “Well if you need anything then you know where I live.” He nodded his head at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You blushed, bowing to him.

“Thank you, same to you too.” You said your goodbyes and he headed back to his apartment. “Did you like him my little pickle?” You plucked Mihyun out of her walker to hold her to your chest. “He was nice wasn’t he?”

 Marrying Renjun:

A month after you’d met Renjun for the first time, he’d asked you out on a date. You hadn’t told Jaemin when he’d come to pick up Mihyun for the night, not wanting him to get upset about you moving on so quickly. At first you were hesitant whether to go on a date at all, but you didn’t want to let the opportunity of dating someone as lovely and kind as Renjun pass up. So, you took the plunge, went on a date with Renjun, and had an amazing night that you’d never forget. When Renjun proposed to you on your one-year anniversary, you took a week to give him your answer. Hesitant at first about marriage purely for the purpose that you’d already been married once and that hadn’t worked out. But after some deep thought and a long conversation with Jaemin about what went wrong in your marriage to him, you said yes. 10 months later you walked down the aisle and married Renjun, labelling him as the love of your life in your wedding vows. You didn’t know this, but Jaemin winced when he heard you say that. He went to your wedding despite the ache it caused in his heart, only going to show his support to you and not wanting gossip going around about his absence if he didn’t go.

You also moved apartments again. Renjun and you both moving into another apartment that was slightly bigger with the hopes of expanding your family at some point. Although you didn’t like that someone else now had a say in what you decorated the apartment with. Mihyun loved having Renjun living with you, him spoiling her with everything she wanted as soon as she told him her wanted it. He was good at acting like a father, but he knew he’d never take her own fathers place, which he didn’t want to do. But he loved her like she was his own flesh and blood, and he’d do anything for her. You hoped that this marriage was the start to your dream life, but you treasured everything you had with Jaemin. The highs and lows taught you things and gave you an experience that you’d never forget.

[awkwardbluefish]

An Understanding

--

a/n - Damian needs a hug and he gets it!

Summary: Damian is confused and hurt and a breakdown happens. they really should’ve seen it coming

--

Tim sighs tiredly and resists the urge to scream long and loud and hear it echo against the waterfalls’. It was a tiring night and Damian had only made it much more exhausting by defying every single rule he had set out. The rules weren’t meant to baby him - as he believed - but to protect him. Because despite all the training the kid had been put through, he wasn’t ready for this world.

 Damian had been isolated, taught to fight men and cut them down. He had been taught to fight people who didn’t hold back and yet their intent wasn’t to kill. It was to train. No one wanted to face the wrath of Talia and Ra’s Al Ghul after all if they ever did hurt Damian enough to see the brink of death.

 That world Damian was hidden away in wasn’t like this one in the slightest.

 This world crumbles and fights. These people won’t hesitate to kill you, no mercy or stopping just before the inch of death. They hunt you down, torment you and wreck you and watch you break. Sure, there are petty thefts, criminals who piss their pants at the sight of them but they had to work for that, had to install that fear so they had a chance at fighting back. Believing yourself invincible and superior to them can and will get you killed if you’re not careful.

 “You won’t be patrolling for a week,’’ Tim finally tells the boy, taking off his cowl and cape, unfastening the belts strapped to his chest in the process. The reaction isn’t at all that surprising in the least.

 “You can’t do that!” Damian roars, his shout scaring the bats and clashing against the damp walls of the underground.

 Tim sighs softly, placing his suit in the hanger and running a hand through his hair tiredly. “I can,” he states simply, walking past a fuming Damian and settling down at the main computer. He needed to send the report to Bruce. “Bruce told you that I’ll be in charge while he and Dick are investigating the sex trafficking ring in Washington DC, and I’m sorry Damian, but you are not patrolling.”

 The huff is cut short by a growl and Tim pays no mind to the heavy stomps that halt abruptly behind his back. He simply opens another case file and begins his typing. It wasn’t the worst case they have had and there will be ones much horrible after, but the report still needed to be completed. It was simple enough; Clay Face had managed to escape again after years of being jailed and contained in a prison that kept him in his liquefied form. It was nearly nostalgic seeing the villain from his own Robin days. It would’ve been nicer if he wasn’t trying to murder them and attempting to hide inside some unsuspecting civilians.

 “They’ll be back in a week!” Damian counters, words biting and angry. The familiar sound of a mask being ripped off as the glue sticks to the skin fills the cave briefly before its being thrown onto the floor. Its shortly followed by another stamp against the cold stone beneath their feet.

 “Well that’s too bad,” Tim replies drily, resisting the urge to pinch his nose. How did Dick deal with him? He didn’t give enough credit to him sometimes and it was showing now. He had far more patience when it dealt with emotions than the others were capable of.

 “I didn’t even do anything wrong!” Damian explodes and Tim does sigh this time. Damian doesn’t stop however, he keeps on going, frustrated and angry, blinded by his rage and confusion. “Why am I being punished? What? You don’t think I’m competent enough to do my job! I’m Robin now, I was chosen! Clearly you don’t want to deal with me so just say it!”

 The chair scrapes against stone and Damian stumbles back. Tim hair whips into his eyes but he couldn’t care less, something unpleasant and heated boiling under his skin and on the tip of his tongue. “I have no such problems Damian,” Tim manages to say calmly, “but I won’t tolerate you disobeying the rules I set out for you, its for your own protection.”

 Damian seems to raise on his hackles at that, going stiff straight and growling deep in his chest. “For my protection?! I don’t need any protection coming from you Drake, in any form! I’m perfectly capable of handling myself!”

 Tim releases a breath, shaking his head and scratching at his scalp. “That’s wat they all say,” he mutters and shakes his head again tiredly. He looks Damian in the eye again. “And if you can’t handle it one time? What then? I know Clayface, better than anyone of else. He wouldn’t have hesitated to drown you Damian, from the inside out. That’s why we have plans, rules to follow and backup always at the ready. We trust each other and that’s how teams work, that is how this family works.”

 Damian turns his head around and crosses his arms, a scowl that’s a little to soft and resigned to really be angry. Tim eyes him warily, the slight anger and annoyance sliding away into worry. He hadn’t gotten hurt so why was he like this?

 “This family is all about trust and nothing else, am I really apart of it then?” it’s a mumble and I’m one hundred percent sure he wasn’t surpassed to hear it but he’s talking before he can shut his mouth and thing things over.

 “What are you talking about?” Tim asks and he’s honestly and genuinely confused. Damian was apart of this family the day Bruce met him? Didn’t he understand that? “Of course you’re apart if this family, your Bruce’s son.”

 Damian shakes at that, his whole body is trembling in fact. His hands grip at his bangs and he tugs, eyes closed tight and Tim has never felt so shocked and worried before because this wasn’t right.

 “That’s exactly it!” Damian cries, stumbling back as Tim takes a tentative step forward. “This whole damn family is about trust and the only one who actually seems to trust me is Grayson! Not you, not Todd, not even my own father!” he spits it out like he can’t stop and Tim is frozen in place in pure shock. He can’t really believe that can he?”

 “Damian,” Tim tries again, stepping closer to the child. Green eyes snap open wide and Damian shakes his head and stumbles back. Tim watches the child desperately, not believing the words escaping his mouth. How had no one realised this is how he feels? How had no one noticed hoe insecure this child was?

 “I hate this! I hate this family!” Damian spits out and Tim flinches because Damian had never said that before. Sure, they fought and argued but those words have never been uttered and yet, now they were being screamed. “I’ve always thought you incompetent, but you have my fathers trust! You have this whole damn families trust and loyalty, but I just can’t seem to get it no matter what I do! All I have to this family is the blood in my veins and the Robin title that I stole! Its not fair and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

 Tim is helpless as tears of frustration and pent up emotions spill down from red eyes and tracks down round cheeks. Damian closes his eyes again, chest heaving under his suit and rattling from his throat.

 “Oh Damian,” Tim sighs, shaking his head. “You’re right, Bruce didn’t ask for you.” Damian’s whole body flinches and Tim smiles sadly, striding forward and capturing the boy into his chest. Damian struggles and fists smack against his stomach but he continues none the less. “but if you think he doesn’t love you with his whole being and want you, then you don’t know Bruce at all.”

 Damian sags and Tim soothes the hair at the back of his neck comfortingly. “Everyone says this family is about trust and loyalty,” he mumbles, breath hitching between stuttered words.

 Tim shakes his head slightly and pulls Damian’s head into the crooks of his neck. He instantly feels the warm tears sinking through his suit and scrubs his hand gently through Damian’s sculp. “it is,” he agrees softly as Damian trembles in his hold, “but its also about love. And Bruce may not show it but he loved you from the day he met you, maybe you didn’t have his trust just yet but you had his love and that’s what makes you apart of this family.”

 “then why doesn’t he trust me!” Damian cries and the tears start up again. Tim sighs softly, hating seeing Damian like this. No child should ever doubt their families love, let alone their trust in them.

 Carefully he manoeuvres them back to the chair, pulling Damian on his lap and letting the boy curl against him to bury his face into his shoulder. Tim rubs his side soothingly. “It takes a while to earn Bruce’s trust,” Tim admits quietly, “and he never tells you when you have it. But you do Damian, he trusts you to be Robin and to be his son. He just isn’t good at praises or compliments and that sometimes makes it seems like you are always doing something wrong and you can’t do anything right but trust me Dami, he loves you. Just like the rest of us. You understand that, right?”

Tim doesn’t get a verbal response, and he doesn’t really expect one as Damian rubs his nose into his shoulder and sniffles. He internally cringes at that but smiles as Damian nods against his shoulder blade and the sniffles die down. Good.

 “Why does it hurt so much?” Damian mumbles quietly and Tim chuckles wryly at that. He tussles Damian’s hair gently, smiling as he receives a small jab in response and a tiny but genuine smile.

 “I’m not sure,” Tim hums, “but you know its family when it hurts so much. You know its family when you care too much. It hurts but that’s okay, that is normal.”

 Damian hums into his shoulder, scrubbing at his eyes and Tim smiles gently. It seems they weren’t moving for a while and that’s okay. His legs may have gone numb five minutes ago but that was fine, he doubts it would be the last time someone refuses to move off him. It definitely isn’t the first time

[softhaos]

PURELY PLATONIC

pairing – joshua hong x reader genre – fluff  description – you never expected to find a new friend due to ranting about lee chan. you also never expected to find a dumbass spreading the rumor that you and joshua were suddenly a couple. alternatively, you and joshua are really just friends without benefits but uh, everyone else begs to differ. warning – none word count – 4,774 words author’s note – for once, i’m not writing a crackfic, i think? it came out so much more different than i initially planned (which was basically three months ago sdjjk) either way i hope you enjoy xx

set in the victorious universe | can be read as a standalone

You are going to kill Seokmin. As soon as he fixes the mess, that is. You’d love to end his life right there and then, but his early death wouldn’t solve your wifi issue. There is no plausible explanation on to how Seokmin managed to cause a power outage in your apartment but the fact is: with no electricity available, there’s also no wifi.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. You could go several hours without wifi, that’s not an issue at all.

However, when you have to finish revising your article for the college newspaper and send in the final draft of your work before five in the evening because you value your wellbeing and don’t want Chan bitching at you for approximately a month, it becomes a very big issue. And as much as you like to joke about falling off the stairs, you don’t want to actually die due to Chan latching onto you and expressing his annoyance about your inability to report back in time.

You only have three hours left to edit the word vomit you produced and the next best location where you can work is the Pow Wow café two blocks away from the apartment complex. There really aren’t any downsides to the coffee shop: their coffee is heavenly and the internet connection works just as fine as your own. It’s a genius solution.

What you didn’t calculate into your brilliant masterplan is the peak time at Pow Wow. You realize that the moment you step inside the café.

The interior hits the mark of comfort and zero tackiness. Black and red pillows are lying on the couches and give the place more life besides the pale green and beige accents on the wall. There’s a reason why Pow Wow is pretty much considered the best café on campus grounds. The loud chatters blend in with the Bob Marley song that’s playing in a moderate volume from the speakers and become almost inaudible to you as you scan the place for a free table. The disappointment strikes you hard since all you are met with are unfamiliar faces. Whenever you spot a free seat, either the clutter on the table refrains you from claiming it or the person just returned from their refill back to their clutter. The odds are definitely not in your favor today.

At this point, you’re already dialing Mingyu’s phone number in the hopes that he could pick you up and let you abuse his (very shitty) wifi. Any internet connection suffices, you figure, and if the next best thing is Mingyu’s horrible wifi, you just have to suck it up. Your plan C for everything has always been Mingyu and so far, it has always worked out.

Except for this time, it doesn’t.

“Please leave a message after the–” you don’t bother speaking into the answering machine and slip your phone back into your pocket. Maybe you shouldn’t have expressed your desperate need to behead Seokmin, that’s possibly the reason why the odds are not in your favor at all.

Nonetheless, since you’re already here, you might as well get your hourly dose of caffeine.

“Anything else?” the barista – Minki is his name according to the name tag – asks as he writes your name on the cup before sliding it to his coworker. The overly bright smile that is bound to be a forced one never leaves his lips.

“A good wifi connection and some silence,” you shoot back intuitively.

Startled by the given answer, Minki raises a brow and nods understandingly. “Ah, I wish I could have those privileges too.”

He’s about to add something when one of the other workers call your name, a sign that your order is done. You send him an apologetic, fleeting glance before you scurry off and grab your drink.

Cup in one hand and phone in the other, you’re about to dial pretty much every contact you have in hopes that at least someone would be so kind enough and give you their wifi. You’re almost by the door when you suddenly collide against someone and stagger. But before you end up on the ground facedown, warm hands have a firm grip on your shoulders and prevent you from losing balance. Surprisingly, you don’t spill your coffee or drop your phone.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I–” your mind goes blank and the words lingering on your tongue are forgotten when you see his face.

“You sure?” he asks again, brows furrowed in worry. His jet black hair is messy from the wind and some strands reach down to his eyes. However, you still recognize him faintly even if his appearance is different than usual.

“You’re Joshua from Professor Ahn’s composing class, aren’t you?” you blurt out and immediately regret sounding so ecstatic. If it weren’t for your both hands that were already holding something, you would’ve clamped your mouth shut. Judging by Joshua’s startled reaction, you might have as well beamed at him.

“Uh…” he chuckles lightheartedly but is still weirded out, “Y/N, we’ve been in the same course since the beginning of the semester, which by the way, started a month ago.”

“I only ever see you with glasses, so excuse me for not recognizing you right away,” you improvise and scrunch up your nose when you brought up the glasses. Technically, you didn’t lie to him. Up until now, you’ve really only met him with specs perched on his nose.

You haven’t talked a lot with him – scratch that, you’ve never exchanged a word with him before. There has never been a reason for you to approach him and even if you wanted to approach him at the end of a lesson, he’d rush out the classroom as fast as the wind. If you’re not mistaken, he’s pretty much the first person to be present before the lesson and the first to leave the lesson.

Joshua seems to believe you and rubs the back of his head. “I really do look different without glasses, huh? But back to the point. You looked awfully stressed just a moment ago.”

“Karma,” you deadpan, “Or long story short: A friend of mine trashed my wifi, he’s fixing it at the moment but I have to submit my article for the newspaper in a few hours unless I want Chan haunting me.”

Joshua feels the pain to well and cringes at the mention of Chan as if you had set off a foul memory of his. “Chan can be… a handful.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Who does he think he is, running around and acting as if he were God?” at this point, you already lost track of time just ranting about the head editor of the official college newspaper. You must’ve been complaining about your life dilemmas for so long that one guy rudely tells you to not block the way to the exit. That was the incentive for Joshua to pull you away and one moment later, you’re sitting right in front of him.

You’re about to let out all your pent up anger about Seokmin on him when he interrupts with a small smile and hand gesture.

“If you want to rant on, I’ll be glad to lend you an ear. But seeing as it’s five pm in a few hours and you still haven’t sent in the final draft to Chan, I suggest you work on that first.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” you mumble after a moment of silence. That doesn’t stop you from pulling out your notebook and setting it on the smooth wooden surface.

Your comment triggers a wholehearted chuckle. Joshua slightly tilts his head back but quickly recovers after taking a sip from his refill. “Chan’s wrath? Been there, done that. I wouldn’t even want to have the people I dislike go through that.”

“That bad?” you inquire playfully.

“Think Professor Jang’s wrath but a little less Professor Jang.”

You almost choke.

“That’s it. I really have to pull myself together,” you say monotonously and open your article about this year’s talent admission contest. A quick glance at the clock suffices to get your gears working at lightning speed. You still manage to swallow a frustrated groan when you look at the word vomit and suddenly realize how much editing is really needed for this piece.

You may have successfully refrained your voice from exposing your misery, however, your face speaks for itself. You don’t bother to look up or you refuse when Joshua asks, “Need help?”

“If you can help me edit this article, you’re my lifesaver,” you shoot back instantly while keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

Joshua snorts in response. “I used to work on a project with him. Several times, actually. I don’t usually speak highly of myself, but I am confident that I know what floats his boat and what doesn’t.”

This time it’s your turn to let out a burst of laughter. “People still use that saying?”

“That’s Chan’s language when he’s feeling really artistic.” Joshua grins before he stands up and occupies the chair beside you. In the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly leaning towards you and meddles with your laptop so that he can also view the screen. You don’t miss how his eyeballs almost fall out of their sockets as he quickly skims through the words. “Did you write a novel or something? And you’re crazy enough to edit this monster by yourself?”

“Look, I get carried away easily–”

“Samuel Kim deserves better,” he reads out loud and you feel the blood draining from your face.

“...and I tend to be very subjective,” you trail off. Suddenly, editing your article by yourself seemed like the better option. Maybe even having Chan pestering you is the better–

Okay, that’s definitely a lie. You’re not going to finish that thought.

“Let me just share the link so I can access the draft from my own laptop,” Joshua suggests as if he were asking for your permission first. That seems to go down the drain as his nimble fingers are already working fast while he’s speaking. It doesn’t bother you though.

What follows after he accessed your article from his own device is comfortable silence. Besides the occasional comment from his side concerning your statements about some contestants (he was very persistent about the runner-up Ha Yoonbin in particular) and the background chatter, the main sound you perceive is your fingers feverishly hitting the letters on the keyboard.

The two of you are so engrossed in editing the article that you barely process the time. It’s when Joshua returns to the table after grabbing a refill for the two of you that you wonder how long you’ve been working on the text. Your heart stops beating when you realize that you only have five minutes left before the deadline.

However, after skimming through the visibly shorter word vomit than before, you deem the article as fair enough and send Chan the final draft.

With the weight finally lifted off your shoulders, a wave of relief washes over you.

“Joshua, you're my lifesaver. I'm dead serious here,” you say while gazing at him with an equally serious face. “By the way, thanks for the refill. Wait a sec, I'll grab my wallet—”

“It's on me,” he cuts you off and sets the cup on your table before you can refuse. “Seriously, it's no big deal. I'm glad I could help.”

Your eyes flicker from him to the cup and then back to his face. Shooting him an incredulous stare, you set your fist on the table to prove a point. However, he doesn't seem impressed judging by the quirked brow and waits for you to elaborate.

“It doesn't work like this. You don't spontaneously help me out with an over 20,000-word article and buy me a coffee. On top of that, you don't want to be paid back? That's unacceptable!” you declare and demonstratively repeat your action.

A fond smile paves its way onto his face. He attempts to say something but always pulls back in the last moment. So after what feels like a moment of silence too long, he proposes, “Fine, if you really insist, then you owe me one. I don't know when it'll come in handy but let's say I need some help with an assignment for composing class, you'll have to help me out. Deal?”

“Fine by me. But what about the coffee?”

Joshua’s eye twitches. It's a faint movement, barely visible if you don't pay enough attention yet you still pick it up. You refrain yourself from pointing it out though.

“How about you buy me one coffee as we continue our discourse about things Chan does that annoy us some other day?” he inquires after a while, fingers tapping an irregular beat on his cup.

You detect the playfulness in his tone but you also know he isn't completely joking regarding this matter.

A smile erupts on your lips.

“Text me whenever you're free or feeling like it.”

You really did spend several hours at Pow Wow ranting about Chan and his antics. Along the way, you might have found more topics you could collectively complain about or praise that led to a second platonic date.

And a third.

And more after.

Sometimes your conversations even escalated into a debate about the talent admission contest a few weeks back.

(“Ha Yoonbin should've won and any other opinion is invalid!”

“Well, in the end, you're Boo Boo the Fool because believe it or not, Yoon Jeonghan won the contest fair and square!”

“I don't deny his talent but Ha Yoonbin!!!”)

Either way, new topics led to more meetings and at this point, you lost count of the number of times you and Joshua have hung out. He’s easy to banter with and to an outsider, it may seem as if you two have known each other for ages. It’s borderline scary how quickly Joshua picks up your humor and therefore, it also doesn’t take too long for you to clown him the way you clown Seokmin–

You admit you clown him a little less than Seokmin. Nonetheless, his reactions are priceless and it’s not your fault that he gives you enough material to tease him about.

“One day, the broken glass song will rise again,” you promise him, observing his every reaction.

He groans in response and hides his face behind his hands. “Don’t you dare bring it up again.”

“How can’t I? Your meme-worthiness is on the same level as the backpack kid!”

He gives you a death stare but it comes off as a pathetic attempt of a glare, almost whimsical even. The cold look never suited him in the first place, you think because his features are all soft and it’s simply impossible to look unapproachable with his face.

“Don’t compare me with him, Jesus Christ.”

You chuckle lightheartedly and raise your arms in defense. “I was just messing with you! Okay, fine, I’ll shut up about it.”

“Thank you.”

“For now.”

Joshua looks like he’s about to kill you. His eyes might not say so but the rest of his actions do. You don’t miss the way his hands grip his mug tighter, causing his veins to show up slightly. However, he keeps his artificially sweet smile and resorts to changing the topic.

“Jokes aside, I need some help concerning a song.”

That catches your interest. “A song, you say?”

“I feel like some of the lyrics are off,” he explains and finishes his coffee. “Besides, you still owe me that.”

He’s right. While you have spent a lot of time together, the situation where he would need your help hasn’t arisen up until now. Of course, you haven’t forgotten that – even if your memory wasn’t the best, you couldn’t ever forget that he helped you with your article.

That’s how you end up in his bedroom of the apartment he shares with Kim Taehyung, another Seoul Arts student whose major you don’t recall. All you know is that he’s very invested in stage plays but is never the main role of any play. Oh, and he mixes very delicious cocktails.

Joshua’s room is fairly big, but it’s surprisingly very clean. His bed is neatly made, there’s no clutter on his desk by the window, there’s no book missing on his shelf and the several guitars he owns are standing side by side, right next to the closet.

Your eyes flit through the lyrics Joshua handed to you while he’s busy tuning his guitar. The lyrics are cute, endearing even – what else do you expect from a love song titled “falling for u”? It seems as if Joshua’s love (or addiction) for coffee is so strong that he even included it in his lyrics.

“So tell me truthfully–” you look up and smirk “– who is the muse for this song?”

At that moment, Joshua’s cheeks take a faint shade of red. “There is none,” he mumbles and adds in a louder voice, “Anyway, should I sing you the song?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you scoff because there’s no way that he just came up with the lyrics without a person in mind. The words are too personal for that matter. “If it makes you feel more at ease, I promise I won’t tell anyone and if I do, I’ll buy your coffee until the end of the year.”

As if he doesn’t believe it, his eyes go wide. But as fast as he widened, he squints as you suspiciously just as swiftly. “You do know I drink a lot of coffee. Your wallet is going to suffer,” he points out slowly.

You roll your eyes and prop your chin on your palm. “Of course I’m well aware of that. That’s exactly why I said it.”

Joshua studies you hard, conflicted whether he should really trust you or not. His muse for this song must really be someone he’s really crushing on, you figure. While it is some very valuable information and definitely something you can tease him with, you’d never go behind his back and pass it on to others. That’s a big, red no-no.

“Fine, but you really can’t tell anyone else,” he warns and you nod frantically while you move to a sitting position on his bed.

“So uh…” he rubs the back of his head and avoids your gaze, “It’shmmnhung.”

You cock your head to the side, thousand invisible question marks floating over your head. “Who?”

Joshua stares at you, silently asking you if you were serious and turns as red as a tomato. However, he sighs once and repeats his sentence much clearer. “It’s. Kim. Min. Kyung.”

Your last functioning brain cells only process the name slowly. You blink at him dumbfoundedly several times until you finally matched the name with a face. When the realization finally hits you, you nearly fall off the bed.

“What?! You do know she has a girlfriend, right?! This–” you screech while waving around with the lyric sheet, “–is downright a confession, so what were you even thinking?!”

“Of course I do!” Joshua replies in the same frantic manner before elaborating, “This song was written before Minkyung and Yaebin got together and yes, I’ve stopped crushing on her. She was just the inspiration for this song and I find this song too good to dump it.”

“Good.” you nod appreciatively and cooled down from the shock. “I mean, not only good that you’re not going to be petty and break them up or something but good that you’re confident in your songs too.”

“I try to.” he shrugs.

“It’s a start.” you wave your hand as a sign for him to start singing. “Now show me what you’ve got, Mister I-try-to-be-confident-in-my-songs.”

You’ve never heard Joshua sing before, so naturally, you’re mesmerized by his voice from the moment he starts singing. His voice isn’t all too powerful and you doubt he can belt like Seokmin, but his tone is smooth and sweet like honey and the guitar just complements his vocal color. The song is simple in itself but you can already imagine the number of people listening to this while they study.

“I’m falling for you–” he sings with closed eyes and you note the small smile taking over his lips. He really must’ve liked Minkyung a lot.

And suddenly, the door flings open.

“Shua, can you believe? Jeongguk managed to get me tickets to that one show in Hongdae– oh?” Taehyung struts into the room, blue hair messily falling above his eyes but he instantly stops in his tracks when he sees you on the bed while Joshua’s sitting on the carpeted floor.

“–once again.” Joshua’s voice slowly drops into his normal talking voice and shoots him an incredulous stare.

“Uh, I didn’t know you had a guest. You should’ve texted me.” Taehyung’s eyes flicker from you, then to his roommate and then back to you. But once he has calmed down, he puts on a bright smile and addresses you. “I’m Taehyung by the way. I’ve seen you around campus, you’re an acting major if I remember correctly?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you admit and return the smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N, huh? Isn’t Joshua just great at singing and composing?”

“I mean, it’s the first time I hear him sing so I can’t be the judge of that yet–” you earn a huff from the said boy but don’t react to it, “–but so far, he’s promising.”

“You hear that, Shua? You’re promising!” Taehyung beams at an irritated Joshua. “If only he was just as promised when it comes to getting a relationship,” he sighs and lays a hand on his chest as if he were in deep pain.

“Oh, cut it off, Tae. I’m perfectly fine.” Joshua rolls his eyes in a playful manner.

“Well, with this song, he definitely would have someone by his side by now,” you singsong and scrunch your nose. This was a golden opportunity to pull the former Minkyung crush card on him.

Joshua seems to take the hint and tries to silence you with a subtle glare. “Stop that–”

“He would?” Taehyung asks curiously, gaze switching from you to the other guy.

“Tae, stop asking and Y/N, don’t answer–”

“Definitely, if only things were different. Right, Shua?” you stick out your tongue at him as an act of rebellion.

By now, Joshua’s ears have taken on a shade of red and he can no longer hide his embarrassment. The scowl that follows just contributes to it. “I did not ask for this clownery.”

“Fine, I’ll leave. Have fun, you two!” Taehyung says, points finger guns at his roommate and sends him a suggestive grin before he leaves you alone and closes the door quietly.

“By the way,” Joshua speaks up a few moments later, “You’re the only one who knows the crush thing – not even Taehyung knows. So I’d really appreciate it if you kept it for yourself.”

That new information genuinely surprised you. You were quite positive that he also knew and would like to dig deeper. However, you know that he has his reasons for not confiding in his roommate so you refrain from doing so.

Instead, you just coo, “Aw, so I’m the only one trustworthy enough to know of your former crush on Minkyung. Cute.”

You’re pretty sure you weren’t drunk last night and married a stranger you met. You’re pretty sure you didn’t even go out last night.

But the handful of people congratulating you for landing a boyfriend makes you doubt your memory.

You’re busy packing out your lunch when Seokmin startles you from behind.

“I thought I was your best friend!”

“What?” you shriek and look at him flabbergasted, spoon almost slipping out of your grip.

“I can’t believe I heard the news from someone else,” he whines and occupies the seat beside you with a hurt and slightly offended expression.

“Hold up.” you freeze and squint at him. “What are you even talking about?”

“You dating Joshua and not telling me first! That’s what I’m talking about,” he groans as if it were the most obvious thing ever and sulks even more.

This can’t be happening again for fuck’s sake–

“Joshua and I are just friends,” you explain cooly and probably for the 30th time in a span of three hours.

“Oh yeah, and that’s why Taehyung found you in Joshua’s bed and flirting with Joshua when he came home,” Seokmin grunts before he raises a questioning brow at you and leans in closer. “Unless he’s not telling the truth?”

Your jaw almost falls open.

Oh. So Taehyung, huh.

“I mean, he saw me sitting on Joshua’s bed...” you start as you recall your first meeting, “...but that doesn’t mean–”

“So you’re not denying it!” Seokmin cuts you off with a slam on the table. You flinch at the loud smack but luckily, nobody else in the cafeteria seems to notice. The place is quite loud anyway, so no one was going to pay attention to you anyway. “I’m truly happy for you but I’m also disappointed in you for not coming to me first.”

The timing couldn’t have been any better. While Seokmin resumes sulking a fucking lot, a familiar figure enters your peripheral vision. At some point, Seokmin notices your disinterest in him and follows your line of sight.

“Hey, there’s your boyfriend,” he points out.

You don’t even bother correcting him and slowly set down your spoon. “If you excuse me,” you mutter halfheartedly before you get up and walk towards Joshua, who’s standing alone.

No words need to be exchanged for you to leave the scene and talk alone in silence. Just like you, he wears desperation and tiredness on his face and you conclude that he must’ve been bombarded with congratulatory wishes too.

Once you have found a somewhat lonely spot on campus, you go straight to the point.

“Nobody is buying my words when I say it’s a misunderstanding.”

Joshua doesn’t answer right away. He takes his time to choose his words carefully and sort out his thoughts. The sigh of exasperation that leaves his lips after a while makes his frustration clearer.

“God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have–” his mind is a jumbled mess right now, you can tell, and he readjusts the glasses perched on his nose before starting anew. “Taehyung–”

“Look, it happened, okay? It’s not even your fault.” you shrug but can’t help but sigh too. “I admit, it’s annoying that everyone is now talking about it and I doubt they’ll shut up soon.”

You settle into silence. But unlike the previous times, this silence is deafening and downright heavy. There’s no comfort in this void as you just stand there and try to figure out what to say next. Normally, you would either crack a joke or resort to a different topic, but neither seem like the right option.

The silence is deafening and downright a burden and remains one even when you’re the one to speak up first.

“This may sound bad but I swear it’s not as bad as you think. Plus, I think it’s the only way to get out of this mess.”

“Hm?” is the only sound he makes to let you know that he’s listening.

“Why don’t we just go with it?”

You dare a peek at him and find him sending you wordless questions. His brows are scrunched together and he looks so helpless, trying to understand your proposal.

“Nobody will believe us if we keep denying it. We might as well act as if we were dating and after a while, break up,” you elaborate and look away. Now that you said it out loud, it’s really a ridiculous solution. It’s blatantly stupid and idiotic and the worst idea ever–

It’s the only idea you have though.

You want to say something but he beats you to it.

“So you’re saying that we should fake date.”

“Yup.”

“We just have to hold hands to make it believable and then fake a breakup. That should work out. We don’t have anything to lose anyway, now do we?” Joshua smiles weakly in an attempt to lighten the mood. You go along with it.

“Is that a yes?” you raise a brow at him, the corners of your mouth slightly tugging upwards.

His eyes twinkle as he links his arm with yours.

“I prefer boyfriend, but whatever floats your boat.”

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (6/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part).

He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.  [Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Part 7 ]

Part 6

The soldiers filed out after them, most setting off in different directions while two took up guard positions on either side of the office door. Gil turned towards the summit room where he could hear the curious voices of the other attendants but his father's grip nearly stole his breath, forcing him in another direction.

"But the meeting," Gil protested as he was guided down another hall with guards now stationed every ten meters.

"Barkley will be assisting for the rest of the day."

"But-"

They turned the corner to the guest wing, one of their attendants seeing them coming and opening the door. The Baron shoved Gil into the room; Gil nearly tripping over his feet. He stumbled into a settee then spun just as his father released his pent up disgust.

"What were you thinking?" His voice hit octaves Gil had never heard before.

He swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything wrong. You said-"

His father grabbed his hands roughly, pulling them up his face. "This says otherwise."

Gil glanced at his raw knuckles, two spit and bleeding--or maybe that was Tarvek's blood--then quickly found something else to stare at.

His father dropped his hands in annoyance. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gil fought back the lump in his throat. All the years of trying to prove to his father he was worth something--worth his time and attention. And one afternoon with his rival destroyed that little bit of trust he'd built through all of those experiments and procedures. He shook off the feeling of helplessness and anger.

"Well?"

All of his reason fled under his father's disapproving scrutiny allowing only one thing to escape. "He started it," Gil said to his feet feeling six-years-old again and knowing the instant he said it that it was the wrong thing.

His father growled. "Unacceptable."

Gil sighed. "I know--I tried to stop, to not engage, but-"

His father only watched him, waiting for a proper explanation. There was no point in lying. "I told you this was a bad idea--Tarvek hates me. He attacked me for no reason."

"No reason?"

"I swear--I was only talking to Anev- I mean the Princess."

His father's eyebrow shot up the same moment Gil realized his mistake; he was supposed to be observing at the luncheon, not exploring the castle with Anevka. Gil sighed, slumping against the sofa and carefully rubbing his sore face--there was no talking his way out of this.

"This was a peace summit and you are an official representative of the Empire. I expect the utmost attention to protocol-"

"I know; I'm sorry."

"You've embarrassed the Empire with your behavior. I'm disappointed."

Gil winced at some of the harshest words he could ever receive from his father.

"Herr Victori," the Baron called into the sitting room, getting the attention of an older gentleman whose job was officially to keep files. The man approached, wary of the Baron's ill temper.

"Yes, Herr Baron?"

"You will make sure Herr Hozfaller remains in our quarters for the rest of the afternoon.

He will stand at attention until I return--maybe that will teach him some discipline."

Gil's eyes snapped up to his father's. He wanted to shout and scream and demand to know why he was being punished for doing nothing but defending himself and his reputation, but he bit his tongue and straightened his back, chin high.

Victori glanced between them, obviously uneasy with the tension and his task. "Of course, Herr Baron," he finally said.

His father paused at the door, studying Gil like he had something else to stay but only frowned before leaving Gil standing at attention for the next few hours.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Tarvek said for the fifth time since everyone had fled his father's mounting wrath--not that anyone noticed any more than the first four times.

His father and sister stood on either side of him shouting their disappointment at him and each other and the world but mostly about him like he wasn't even in the room. The noise was making Tarvek ill.

He took two steps away before his father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back hard. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I just need to sit down," he said meekly, the room starting to spin.

"Unbelievable."

A knock on the door ended the rest of his father's rant. He let go of Tarvek with a shove, sending him stumbling on unsteady legs, regaining his footing and straightening his shirt just as his father called, "enter."

One of the servants poked his head in looking more than a little nervous as his eyes darted around the room. Tarvek wondered how much he had heard--the rumors would be lighting through the castle like that fungus Anevka grew.

"Yes," barked his father, making the servant jump.

The man cleared his throat and entered fully, standing tall. "The summit, Your Highness--the other delegates-"

His father huffed. "Yes, yes. Tell them I'll be there in a moment. Has the Baron returned?"

"Not as yet."

"Well, there's that," he muttered then turned to his children, face less red but eyes still blazing. "Anevka, you will accompany me through the afternoon's meetings."

Anevka nodded. "Of course, Father."

"Tarvek-"

Tarvek swallowed hard before forcing himself to meet his father's hard, disgusted stare.

"Go get yourself cleaned up--I'll deal with you later." With that, the two swept out of the room, the servant scampering after them.

After the door slammed shut, Tarvek let out a long breath and slumped against the desk with a groan. "What have I done," he mumbled.

He took several minutes to center himself before finally sneaking out the side door into the private quarters of the royal family. Inside his room, he collapsed onto his bed, head swimming. The clothes he'd gone through earlier were still spread out around him, and the mostly empty bottle of brandy sat on the bedside table where he'd left it.

In a sudden surge of anger and self-loathing, he rolled off the bed, grabbed the bottle and slammed into the wall across from him, barely noticing the shower of glass that pelted his legs before dropping to the floor, head buried in his knees.

* * *

Violetta watched from the corner as her cousin crumbled, silently sobbing as he hugged his legs to his chest. She'd rarely ever seen Tarvek lose his cool even when he'd get hurt during training--she'd always tried to be just as calm although she rarely lived up to that dream. 

Seeing him fall apart scared her more than it should and tore at her heart which was even more wrong. Empathy was weakness and Smoke Knights didn't have the luxury of being weak.

Something slick slid down her cheek, plopping onto her cloak. She wiped at her face, fingers coming away slick with blood; she found several other small cuts around her eye. Shaking the remaining shards from her cloak, she stepped out of the dark to stand in front of Tarvek--he'd wallowed enough.

"Martellus is up to something," she said matter-of-factly.

Tarvek sucked in a shuddering breath but didn't look at her. Had she actually managed to surprise him?

It took him a moment to get himself together before he let his head fall back against the bed with a sigh. "When is Martellus not up to something?"

Violetta ignored Tarvek's tear-stained face as she joined him on the floor, close enough to offer support but not touching. She wanted to ask if he was okay but that was too close to caring so instead she said, "what are we going to do about him?"

Tarvek sighed. "Why do we have to do anything?"

"Because he's up to something."

"Violetta-" His words cut short as he finally looked at her, his eyes growing wide before shifting to the broken bottle inches from where she'd been hiding. Just as quickly, he averted his gaze, staring at his feet. "I'm sorry."

Violetta frowned at the broken glass then at Tarvek's shoes then at him before shrugging as her only reply. Why was he sorry? He was the one to teach her about feelings and weakness and control.

"About Martellus," she said, trying to refocus his attention.

That seemed to work as Tarvek hopped to his feet, thrusting his hands through his tangled hair. "I have more important things to worry about than whatever stupid plot Tweedle is up to."

"But this is important. He-"

"Enough!"

Violetta jumped up, hands on her hips and right in Tarvek's face. "What is wrong with you? You always told me to watch him and report any suspicious activity."

"And earlier I told you to stay away from him--he's dangerous, and I don't have time to keep you from getting hurt."

Anger bubbled up from a well deep inside that she fought constantly to keep capped. She launched herself at Tarvek, slamming into his back, nearly taking him to the ground. "I don't need you to protect me--I can take care of myself like I always do."

"Fine, go take care of yourself somewhere else."

They glared at each other for long seconds before Violetta broke, spinning away before he could see the tears blurring her vision. She shouldn't be upset at him yelling at her, she told herself. It's not like they were friends.

Technically, Violetta worked for Tarvek and his family--she was a servant just like all the other cowed subjects in the castle, but Tarvek had never treated her like that--not when it was just the two of them alone. But in the end, she was just a Smoke Knight sworn to protect the family and ultimately expendable.

So why did his rejection hurt so much?

With a swish of her cloak, she disappeared into the darkness before she did something stupid like demand to know why Tarvek was being such a jerk.

* * *

Gil's back and shoulder's ached from standing at attention for so long.

He could hear the clock ticking on the mantle behind him but refused to budge no matter how much Victori fretted and insisted he wouldn't tell.

This day just got worse and worse like he knew in his gut it would from the moment he learned of the summit. 

"Should have listened to me," he muttered,  getting the older man's attention. Gil bit his lip, raised his chin and continued to stare at the door, waiting for his father to return. He would show him--Gil had discipline. He wasn't a disappointment.

The word bounced around his head fueling an alternating current of anger and regret. Maybe he was a disappointment. Maybe that's why his father kept him hidden for so many years, why he was still keeping him a secret, not for his safety like he said. Maybe he's always just been a face--another puppet to the Empire--here to serve his purpose and nothing more.

Gil sucked in a breath, holding it until his lungs burned. This line of thoughts never ended anywhere healthy.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a rest?" Victori asked for the hundredth time, glancing at the door then back to Gil. "A snack perhaps?"

Gil let the breath out slowly but didn't acknowledge the man. It's not that the thought Victori was trying to get him in trouble. On the contrary, he thought the man only trying to be helpful and understanding, but Gil's pride was much stronger than his discomfort.

Pride--one thing he definitely got from his father. The thought almost made him laugh as his lips curled into a slight grin that seemed to unnerve his nervous guard.

Victori wrung his hands before picking up a glass of water. "Maybe you would-"

Before he could finish, the door to the room flew open, letting in a loud group including the Baron, Barkley and several Sturmhalten servants that arranged a quick tea. Once the servants left and the Baron's attendants were seated around the table, Gil's father finally addressed him, hands held lightly behind his back like this was any other day.

Gil kept his eyes straight ahead which left them staring at a button just below the collar of his father's shirt--it had a little Wulfenbach emblem on it.

"Follow me," he said after a moment, brushing past Gil and into the adjoining bedroom suite.

Gil let out a soft breath, spun on his heel and ignored the pointed stares of the others in the room. His father waited then shut the door behind them before collapsing with a sigh onto a small sofa set at the end of the bed. Gil waited, confused, while his father rubbed at his face.

Was his father actually tired? Showing weakness? The incongruity of that spun his head around--maybe the world was coming to an end.

With another sigh, the Baron shifted, patting the spot next to him. "Come, sit, Gil; we need to talk."

Yep, the world was definitely ending.

He cautiously joined his father on the sofa, keeping his distance in case it was some kind of trick--he wouldn't put something like that past him. When nothing happened, Gil leaned forward slightly and asked, "are you well, Father?"

This seemed to snap the Baron out of his thoughts. "It's been a long day."

Gil nodded. "It has.” Longer than Gil wished to dwell on, mostly because he had to dwell on Tarvek, and he wished to keep his old friend as far from his thoughts as he could. It was proving more difficult than he thought after everything that happened.

"Have you had enough time to consider your behavior today?"

Gil cringed then fell back against the sofa in a slouch that rumpled his heavy coat. His father simply waited, arms resting on his knees--Gil knew there was no getting out of this conversation or lecture.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually. "It's not like I meant for all of this to happen. I warned you-"

"Ah, this is about your behavior; do not try to shift blame to someone else."

Gil glared at his father, fighting back angry words that would do his cause little good until he could no longer hold the older man's steady gaze.

"What lessons have you taken from today's events?"

I should have listened to my gut and stayed on Castle Wulfenbach. Not that he could ever say that so he sighed. "I should have stayed at the luncheon instead of running off with Anevka like I was supposed to."

Then I probably wouldn't have encountered Tarvek.

His father let out a breath. "The Princess is trouble as much as her brother ever was if not more--the entire family-"

"I know, I know; you've mentioned it a time or two," Gil interrupted with annoyance. "We were just having some fun."

Reaching into an inner pocket of his coat, his father pulled out a folded sheet of paper that revealed several very unflattering drawings and mismatched scribbled comments. Gil groaned, sinking even further down in the sofa as his father snorted in apparent amusement.

"I think you need to work on your technique," he said, dropping the paper on Gil's lap.

Gil picked it up, stared at Anevka's neat penmanship then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket across the room.

His father laughed again which Gil found more than a little unsettling. Klaus Wulfenbach has a sense of humor? Who knew?

"Gilgamesh," the Baron said, sitting up a little more seriously, "I know your experience with young ladies is somewhat limited by your circumstances-"

"Ugh," Gil yelled, shooting to his feet, "it wasn't like that at all. We were just talking. I was- I was gathering intel like you said."

The look his father gave him said he didn't believe that for a second forcing a furious blush to heat Gil's face and neck. He dropped back onto the sofa, face buried his hands.

His father patted his shoulder with another snort. "When we get back home, we'll have to talk more about this--women are-" He paused considering his words. "Complicated."

"Father, please," Gil moaned.

Another laugh, another pat and his father got up. Retrieving a case from a bureau across the room, he opened it on the bed behind Gil. Before Gil could fully turn to see what his father had, something sharp stabbed him in the neck.

He fell back, holding his neck and blinking as the room spun a little. "What was that?"

His father held up a syringe of glittery purple liquid and squirted a small amount out of the tip. "Inoculation," he answered before capping the needle.

Gil blinked even more furiously. "Inoculation for what?"

"Oxfam's Hypnotosia--Barkley did say it was going around."

Gil shook his head which just made his neck hurt more. "The clucking disease?"

His father just continued to return things to his case as if Gil wasn't freaking out a meter away from him.

"Why didn't you get one then if it's so contagious?

"I don't need one. Now go get ready for supper."

"Supper?" Gil asked, dropping the subject of then inoculation knowing full well his father would never elaborate on anything.

His father placed the case back on the bureau just as Barkley knocked on the door then poked his head in nervously. "Yes, supper," he said, stopping Barkley with a hand up so he could finish with Gil. "We're eating with the royal family tonight, and you will be on your best behavior. None of this feud nonsense from earlier. No excuses," he added when Gil opened his mouth to protest.

With that, the conversation was over and the Baron was waving Barkley into the room. Gil snapped his jaw shut, clenching it tightly to refrain from saying something else he'd regret.

Why doesn't he ever listen, Gil wondered as he marched down a short hallway in the suite to his much smaller room that, thankfully, had a private bath. He tossed his coat on a chair, not bothering to worry about wrinkles and discarded his waistcoat and shirt on the bed as he made his way into the bathroom.

"He never listens--nobody every listens," he told his reflection which glared back at him until Gil let out a long sigh, dropping his head. "Story of my life," he mumbled.

Until Tarvek.

The thought hit him like a steam engine, stealing his breath. Before then and since, he'd screamed and yelled and begged to be seen, but no one ever paid him any attention. But Tarvek had listened to his ideas, had wanted to know more, wanted to talk about everything. Tarvek had cared right up until Gil messed it all up and lost the only friend he'd ever had.

He sucked in a long breath then let it out slowly, pushing all the memories into a corner of his mind to hopefully never think about ever again. He knew that was a lost cause the second he thought it because he had to face Tarvek at supper and for the rest of the summit; it was going to end badly no matter how well he behaved.

But then there was a part of him that wanted Tarvek's attention--any kind of attention was better than silence and glares filled with loathing and anger. He hated himself a little for being so desperate and pathetic. It's not like he could ever fix things with his ex-friend. How do you even apologize for a betrayal of that magnitude?

"You can't," he whispered then shook himself out. The whole line of thought was pointless--he needed to focus on surviving the rest of the week but more importantly, surviving supper.

Despite his resolution to not think about Tarvek or their history, his mind kept wandering back to it while he cleaned himself up and got dressed in his clean, fancy clothes that he hated. Give him work pants and a lab coat any day.

God, he missed the lab.

Ever since his father dragged him into this apprentice farce, Gil hadn't had any time to be in his lab--the one good thing that ever came out of those events six years ago. Another pointless train of thought derailing his focus tonight.

With another sigh, he fixed the top button of his shirt and secured his Wulfenbach sigil, straightening it in the mirror, surprised by the burst of pride it gave him to wear the stupid thing. Silly really since all Wulfenbach employees wore one, but Gil was a Wulfenbach which mean it was his sigil for whatever that was worth.

"Gilgamesh," his father called from outside the door.

"Coming," he shouted back as the small smile slid from his face. He straightened his shoulders and forced a neutral expression because Wulfenbachs never showed emotion if they could help it, at least that's what Gil took away from his father's constant calm.

In the main room, Barkley and the other attendants hovered around the Baron nervously, some still giving reports from their day of probably nefarious activities.

His father shot him a disapproving look then headed to the door without a word.

Great, already in trouble and not even at the supper yet. It was going to be a long night.

Outside their suite, a guard waited, snapping to attention as soon as the door opened. "Escort," he said making it clear this wasn't optional.

His father nodded, letting the guard lead the way and showing none of the annoyance Gil was having a difficult time hiding as he trailed behind the two.

His stomach knotted the farther they got from their quarters. He tried to memorize the way the same he did while exploring with Anevka but kept getting distracted by the feeling the paintings on the wall were watching him. Knowing the castle and the family that lived here, he wouldn't be surprised if they were being watched from portraits. The idea creeped him out and he hurried to catch up with the others.

* * *

Tarvek sat slumped in the chair in his room where he'd been since Violetta left him feeling alone and full of guilt for how he treated her.

Why had he said that?

Out of everyone in his life, Violetta was the only one he could trust--the only one that didn't seem to have ulterior motives or sinister plots to exploit him like the rest of his family including his father and sister. Violetta actually cared about him which, unfortunately, was a weakness that needed to be flushed out of her if she was going to survive.

He ran a hand over his face, wincing at the bruises. Could this day get any worse?

"Probably," Anevka said from the doorway startling him out of his morose thoughts. He blinked at her with a frown getting a snort from her.

"Yes, this day can probably get worse, especially if you're in this funk at supper where Father will be watching you like a hawk."

Tarvek slouched down further, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with a groan. "I said that out loud?"

Anevka laughed again then sat with a flourish on his bed where she picked up one of his discarded shirts between two fingers, tossing it to the floor.

"You need to get dressed."

Tarvek knew this.

"And cleaned up--you look like you were kicked by a cranky mule."

He knew this too but only sunk deeper into the chair until he was nearly falling out of it. "Close enough," he muttered into his chest.

Anevka clucked at him. "This is your own doing, dummy. What were you even thinking attacking the Baron's apprentice? And don't blame the, what is this?” She sniffed at the glass beside his bed. "Brandy? Is this the stuff we stole last week?" Her fond smile only managed to anger Tarvek even more.

"You don't understand," he said, suddenly jumping up to pace across the room, his boots crunching over shattered glass.

Anevka played with her dress, spreading the flowing green skirt out around her. "What don't I understand?"

Tarvek ground his teeth as he ground the glass under his heel, suddenly remembering the blood on Violetta's cheek. His eyes darted to the dark corner behind the door--had she been standing there when he threw the bottle? His stomach dropped out.

"Tarvek, honey," his sister said, reminding him very much of their mother, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He couldn't bear to look at her, afraid she'd see the shame scorching his skin. He could have killed Violetta; he could have killed Holzfäller if Violetta hadn't intervened--she was always looking out for him. Because it's her job, a little voice whispered, but he didn't believe that not after the hurt she'd tried to hide when he'd dismissed her like any old servant. What was wrong with him?

"Tarvek?"

He turned slowly at Anevka's alarmed tone. She eyed him warily, fingers playing with the ruffles of her dress--the style was from last season and the color clashed horribly with her hair, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. He shook his head clear before facing her fully, his shoulders falling in defeat.

"What don't I understand, little brother?" She reached her hand out to him and he took it greedily, needing her care and attention like a child needed a mother and Anevka was as close to a mother as he had.

"Holzfäller and I-" He paused, considering his words. "We have history."

"How? We just met him today."

Tarvek cringed knowing he'd have to tell her now or she'd never let it go.

[ Part 7 ]

[psychosistr]

Worth It Chapter 1: Forming a Plan

Summary: Joseph loves his best friend, Caesar, with all of his heart, but doesn’t quite know how to make Caesar see it. With a bit of patience, hard work, and forced abduction, though, it’ll all be worth it in the end.

Notes: This CaeJose story is the first in a series I am dubbing the Jojo’s Yandere Adventures stories. There will be some NSFW content in certain chapters, but I’ll edit out those parts and post them on my AO3 account with links once it’s set up properly. 

Also: PLEASE read the tags- this is a yandere/serial killer AU, so there will be uncomfortable topics such as drug use, murdering of unnamed characters, amoral behavior, kidnapping, mental manipulation, a bit of hypnosis, and stockholm syndrome.

Joseph Joestar and Caesar Zeppeli were best friends. This was a fact that anyone who even so much as glanced at the two would pick up on in an instant. The two had known each other for years, shared many secrets and personal feelings with one another, and were practically joined at the hip whenever they went out. Yes, they were practically the poster boys for the model friendship…at least, that’s what it looked like on the surface, and probably even to Caesar himself- but not to Joseph.

           You see, Joseph was not what people would call “normal”. He had no other way to categorize himself other than simply calling himself “different” or “morally atypical”. Sure, he had tried to find words to describe what he was, but nothing ever quite fit. Joseph was very smart (in his own eyes), so he couldn’t have some sort of mental disability or psychosis; he didn’t do the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, so he wasn’t insane; he cared for and thought about others besides himself, so he wasn’t a sociopath. He simply did not feel things as “normal” people did- he could feel angry, happy, or sad, of course, that was not a problem, but his feelings regarding other people were what made him feel so different.

From what Joseph understood growing up, people were supposed to care about those around them, form attachments to their peers and classmates, and respect certain things such as their feelings or boundaries. Joseph never experienced any of these things. He did not form attachments to those around him very easily- the only people he considered important to him were his grandmother who raised him after his parents’ death as a baby, his grandparents’ friend who helped raise him (an adoptive uncle to Joseph), a boy he’d met when he was young named Smokey who helped look after Joseph’s grandmother, and, of course, Caesar. Other than this select group of people, he considered nobody else worth his time. He was always more clever than his peers, so why bother getting to know them? As for respecting the feelings of others, again, why should he? He felt nothing for them, ergo, they WERE nothing to him. Other people, to Joseph, were a nuisance at best and an obstacle to what he wanted to do at worst.

Being aware of this abnormality in his own perceptions of others often left Joseph feeling a bit like an outcast. Not that he’d ever show it, of course. He was clever enough to realize early on that straying from the norm in front of others could lead to social shunning, overly concerned and meddlesome looks from those older than himself (such as his teachers when he was younger), forced appointments with professionals that would try to figure out what he was truly like, possible incarceration or institutionalization, and, the most worrisome of all- phone calls to granny Erina. The thought of someone calling his grandmother and getting in trouble with her always made a chill run down Joseph’s spine- that woman was TERRIFYING.

So, to avoid being labeled by society (and incurring the wrath of his grandmother), Joseph put on a mask in front of everyone outside of his little circle for years. To most of the world he was the brash but clever, happy-go-lucky, semi-polite, mostly-spoiled heir to the rich Joestar family. He always put on his biggest fake smiles whenever he went out, treated people kindly unless provoked, and was considered a generally good-natured person. As soon as he was behind closed doors, though, and away from those who did not truly know him, he let the fake smile drop and became a much more relaxed man when he was with the people he cared for.

Though it was never directly stated or discussed with any of them, they all seemed to have the unspoken understanding that Joseph was different and they all accepted him for who he was. They would keep tabs on him while they were out together and could tell when his mask was about to slip, often coming up with an excuse for why they’d have to go somewhere else for a bit. They would let him sit quietly for long periods of time without bothering him to speak or talk about what he was feeling because they knew it annoyed him. They would even let him rant for (literally, sometimes) hours on end about how much the people he dealt with that day annoyed him, or about how stupid they all were, or how he wished he could make them all just shut up or disappear for good. He was immeasurably grateful for this, and often showed it in the way of telling his stupid jokes freely, or calling everyone by their own nicknames, or by offering to do something to help them out or dealing with someone who was inconveniencing them.

Joseph did often wonder, though, how they would feel about him if they knew about the thoughts that ran through his head or the things he did when none of them were around.

The first time had been an accident. It was back in high school, his sophomore year at an all-boys boarding school. There was a guy in his class that kept messing with him in the usual juvenile way- teasing, name calling, occasional shoving, scathing remarks, etc. - but Joseph did his best to ignore him. It got harder day after day, until finally he felt his mask about to break and skipped school for the day to go relax in the woods nearby. He found comfort in the quiet of the forest and enjoyed watching the birds that flew around and above the tree tops. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on whom you asked), the boy from school came there too. He saw Joseph and kept antagonizing him until Joseph couldn’t take it anymore and lashed out, slamming his fist into the other boy’s head with enough force to send him reeling back into a tree. Joseph didn’t let up at that, though, taking out all of the anger and annoyance he felt not only for this boy, but for every person that he had to deal with at that school. He used his superior strength to practically bludgeon the unlucky boy into unconsciousness before wrapping his bloodied hands around his thin neck and squeezing until there was no pulse left beneath his large fingers. After the blood stopped roaring in his ears and his heart beat calmed down, Joseph realized that he felt BETTER. He probably should have felt guilty or sad or scared, but, no, he felt RELIEVED by what he had done- it was like he’d been bottled up until that point and now the lid had popped off and let all of the negative emotions out. It was so…so liberating. He easily disposed of the body by carrying it deeper in the forest and leaving it in an area that he knew from previous treks was frequented by all manner of feral beasts- even if the body was found, it would be too mauled to find a good cause of death- and washed up in a creek before heading back to school like nothing had happened at all. A missing person’s report was filed, but the body never turned up and Joseph felt practically giddy over how easily he’d gotten away with it.

The second time was not an accident. Nor was the third time. Or any of the now countless subsequent times that followed. Every time Joseph found himself feeling too pent up, he would find someone (usually a person that had annoyed him or inconvenienced someone he cared about) and get rid of them. It was second-nature to him by now. He was confident in his strength and abilities, was always careful not to leave any evidence behind, and disposed of the bodies in ways that meant they were never found. It was nothing personal most of the time, just a good way for him to relieve his stress.

Well, until recently that is.

Recently, over the past two years or so that is, Joseph has had fairly specific targets: the worthless, vile, loathsome whores that Caesar had involved himself with.

Caesar was Joseph’s closest and dearest friend, someone whom he could trust and confide in (aside from his secret activities, of course), and the person who could make Joseph feel the strongest emotions he’d ever felt in his entire life. They had met after Joseph graduated high school- he was taking advantage of a study abroad program at his new college to visit Italy with his adoptive uncle, Robert Speedwagon, when Speedwagon introduced the two by saying their grandfathers were close friends. To say they didn’t hit it off immediately would be a gross understatement. They ended up arguing and fighting constantly, Joseph finding himself incredibly annoyed by Caesar’s casanova tendencies and haughty attitude to the point of the two constantly getting into physical altercations. But, much to Joseph’s surprise, the annoyance he felt wasn’t like it usually was with other people, and when they fought he didn’t actually want to kill Caesar (just wipe that smug look off of his face for a bit). Caesar was witty, clever, and was able to toss back both punches and quips just as good as the ones that Joseph gave him. It was the first time Joseph found himself thinking of someone as an equal.

After the initial fighting subsided (that took a couple of weeks), the two got to know each other better and ended up bonding over several things they had in common. A big conversation that seemed to cement their still fresh bond was when they began talking about family- Joseph opened up about never knowing his parents since they died before he even had the chance to know them, and Caesar, in turn, told Joseph about how his own father left his family when Caesar was just a child and how he had run away later and joined a street gang, losing touch with the rest of his family and later witnessing his father dying in a horrible traffic accident after pushing Caesar out of the way of an oncoming car without even recognizing his own son. While neither Caesar nor Joseph had acknowledged it at the time, that was when the bitterness between them evaporated and they truly became best friends. They still wrestled and hit each other and traded quips and barbs back and forth, but it was with a sort of tenderness born of camaraderie and playfulness rather than any ill-will towards one another.

When it was time for Joseph to head back to America, he found himself close to tears at the idea of being away from his new friend and started to consider locking Caesar in his luggage to take him with him (thankfully he realized that would have been a bad idea and resulted in serious injury or death for the poor Italian man). Instead, the two exchanged contact information and a teary, heartfelt embrace at the airport. The next year was filled with constant texting, emailing, poking on social media, and web-camera chats as often as the two could with the time zone difference. Eventually, after saving up enough money between the two of them (and receiving generous combined early/late birthday and Christmas gift checks from Erina and Speedwagon), Caesar was able to move to America. When he saw the blond Italian stepping out of the crowded American airport, Joseph had been so excited that he ran through the crowd, not caring who got knocked over in the process, and picked Caesar up in a tight hug and spun him around, both of them laughing like idiots the whole time.

Life got so much better for Joseph after Caesar joined him in New York. The two would often hang out at each other’s apartments for hours at a time, one usually sleeping over at the other’s place and having a few drinks while watching bad movies or just talking about their boring jobs or Joseph’s grad school classes. When they weren’t crashing at each other’s apartments or busy with work or school, they would either be hanging out somewhere like bookstores (Joseph sticking to his comics and Caesar picking out new novellas), bars, or spending time with Joseph’s family and Smokey (Caesar had already been unofficially adopted into the family like Smokey had, though, and he couldn’t have been happier about that).

Yes, everything in Joseph’s life was perfect with Caesar around…until he started dating. The first girl had been some cheap floozy Caesar had picked up at a bar while he and Joseph were out. Joseph had left for a few minutes to order more drinks at the bar, and, when he came back, some girl with too much lipstick and too little clothing was saddled up next to Caesar and the two were flirting back and forth. Caesar ended up excusing himself with her for the night, apologizing to Joseph even after Joseph gave him a smile and thumbs up while saying “Nice!”. Truthfully, Joseph was enraged and felt something completely new to him: jealousy. Who did that tart think she was? Intruding on his nice night out with Caesar, stealing his attention away, and looking so damn satisfied with herself just because Caesar wanted to spend a night with her. He found himself wishing that HE had been the one going home with Caesar that night, wishing that Caesar could have cast such a seductive look at HIM before taking him off to….oh…Joseph’s train of thought derailed slightly upon the realization that he WANTED Caesar. He NEEDED Caesar. After a few more drinks by himself, Joseph decided that he and Caesar would actually work out well if they got together- people already made jokes or came to the assumption that the two were dating, anyway, and Caesar obviously liked being around Joseph if he was willing to move to an entirely different country to be with him. Caesar MUST have liked him, right? Right. He just needed some help realizing it and then they could both be happy. Joseph just had to get rid of the obstacles in his way, as he always had…

The first girl was easy enough to dispose of, she was just a one night stand that Caesar didn’t really care enough about to call or check up on after their night together. He’d had a lot of dates that ended like that, so it was easy for Joseph to make sure those whores didn’t come back. The ones that proved a challenge were the women (and a few foolish men) whom Caesar showed genuine interest in and contacted frequently. Joseph tried to take the easier route when he could- he would use his affluent status as well as the nice income he got from his post-grad school career as a real estate investor to bribe those ungrateful louts into leaving Caesar alone and just kill the ones that refused. Many of them took the large sum of money that Joseph offered them, which made him feel both relieved and angered at the same time because they were essentially saying that his precious little Caesar was worth LESS than some stupid wad of cash or big check. How dare they?! Caesar was worth all the money in the world to Joseph! Sometimes he would lose his temper and end up killing a few of them anyway after they broke up with Caesar. Then, every time one of Caesar’s whores (Joseph refused to think of them as anything else) stopped contacting him or broke things off with him, Joseph would be there to comfort him with a shoulder to lean on, a warm embrace, a bright smile, and some shitty jokes that never failed to cheer the other man up. During these times, Joseph would try to subtly flirt with the Italian man and get closer to him, but Caesar would just laugh it off and things would return to the status quo between the two…at least until the next person caught Caesar’s eye and the cycle would repeat itself again…

Seeing that just getting the obstacles out of the way wasn’t enough, Joseph decided he needed to form a more concrete plan to win Caesar over. After subtly (to him, at least) asking his grandmother for advice on what people normally did when they had strong feelings for someone else and wanted to win them over, he discovered that the best methods were to spend time together, give gifts, be generally charming with praise and compliments, and, as Erina had phrased it, to “be a man and just tell him how you feel already”. Joseph had no idea how she realized the person he was talking about was male- there was absolutely NO WAY anyone could tell he liked Caesar, after all- he was a master at hiding things.

While her advice was useful, it was tricky at first to implement it. The two of them already spent a lot of time together, and it would feel awkward to suddenly show up at Caesar’s door with gifts without it being a holiday (and telling him outright seemed out of the question at the moment). Then, a brilliant idea occurred to him- what if he and Caesar LIVED together? That would be the most time they could possibly spend together, and then Joseph would get plenty of opportunities to compliment and praise him every day, and he could bring random gifts home with him without it being awkward, and-and- AND THIS WAS PERFECT!

With this in mind, Joseph set the first part of his brilliant plan into motion. He brought up the subject of the two of them sharing a nice apartment together one night over drinks, but Caesar seemed a bit hesitant at the idea of having a roommate, saying he wouldn’t want to bother Joseph if he brought over any “guests”. Joseph felt a jolt of rage at the idea of one of Caesar’s whores coming over with him, but hid it well behind a loud laugh and dismissive wave. Caesar said that he would think about it, however that seemed like it would take too long, so Joseph decided to speed up the process. After paying a hefty bribe to Caesar’s boss to (politely, of course) let Caesar go, and then doing the same to any other companies Caesar applied to so they wouldn’t consider hiring him, it wasn’t long at all before Caesar’s bank account was running low enough that he could no longer afford his own apartment. Then, like the “good friend” he was, Joseph insisted that Caesar stay with him until he got back on his feet and helped him move in with Joseph.

The second part of his plan had been proceeding smoothly for a few months now. Joseph spent every bit of time he could spare at home with Caesar (when he wasn’t out killing anyone that caught the blonde’s eye or bribing more companies into not hiring him, that is) and found every opportunity to praise his precious little Caesar. Mundane tasks such as cooking, cleaning, or hanging out turned into conversations about how much Joseph loved Caesar’s authentic Italian cuisine (which he really did, the man could put most restaurants out of business in Joseph’s opinion), or how he admired Caesar’s organization skills, or how funny or clever Caesar was. Joseph also brought home gifts for Caesar at least once a week, varying the gifts from simple things like a bottle of Caesar’s favorite wine that he “just happened to pick up at the store” to expensive, thoughtful gifts like the brand new top-of-the-line smart phone and laptop that Joseph gave him “to make finding a job easier”. The slightly embarrassed smiles and the sparkle in Caesar’s eye whenever Joseph gave him something always left him feeling warm all over and gave Joseph a tingling sensation deep in his torso, making every cent and bit of effort Joseph spent on him worth it.

Now, though, now would be the culmination of the previous two years of careful planning and strategic bribery: He would confess to Caesar.

Joseph knew from his previous attempts at flirting with Caesar that being subtle wouldn’t work, but it still felt like it would be awkward to just bring it up out of the blue. So, Joseph decided that the best course of action would be to bring it up after a more…intimate encounter between the two. It made sense in his mind- people were usually influenced by their bodies’ instinctive desires such as hunger for food, desire for dominance, and lust for the flesh. Ergo, if Joseph could satisfy Caesar’s physical needs, it would show him how well they would work out together in the long run. Again, it made sense in his mind, even if it might not seem logical to someone else.

To make sure that Caesar couldn’t turn him down and would give him a chance to try, Joseph got his hands on some interesting little pills after doing a bit of research on the dark web (something he frequented quite regularly for inspiration and ideas, as well as supplies, over the years). According to what he’d read about them, the drugs were highly concentrated aphrodisiacs laced with ecstasy to induce a mild sense of euphoria and mixed with an agent similar to rohypnol that made the user more prone to suggestion, but without the short term memory loss (he wanted Caesar to be aware of what was going on, after all, or what would be the point?). Also, unlike rohypnol, this drug was meant to be taken willingly by dropping it into a drink- beer was recommended over hard liquor for it- where it would fizz up and change the flavor of the drink. This meant that he would have to get Caesar to try it willingly, that way he couldn’t later say that Joseph spiked his drink and turn the mood sour. Of course, Joseph wouldn’t take the drug himself, he would need to keep a clear head to make sure he did everything right, he would just put some similar looking seltzer tablets in his own drink to keep up the illusion- that way they’d be on equal footing in Caesar’s eyes.

‘Yes,’ Joseph thought, ‘This plan is flawless. Soon my beloved Caesarino will be all mine~<3’

Next Chapter->