#rip out my brain and throw it so hard it splatters all over the walls

[cetoddle-archive]

my heart aches so bad so constantly these days i just wanna plunge my hand into my chest, rip out my still beating heart, and tear it apart with my teeth

[confused-gender]

Monsters

Summary: You survived for so long. The yautja came to clear out the xenomorphs and to find you.

Word count: 5.37K words

I sat there in silence. The silence comforted me as if it were like an old friend. Tears silently streamed down my face as I hid away from the monster that was chasing me. It's always been a cat-and-mouse game with it. It likes to catch me and then release me to play around just a little bit longer before it gets bored with me. It's been like that ever since I was a little girl. It chased down my mother for years until finally it killed her and locked its eyes on me. The sound of heavy footsteps captures my attention, and I hold my breath in hopes it doesn't find me. I pray to anything that would listen to my prayer and patiently wait for it to pass. Soon, the footsteps fade away, and I let out a quite shaky breath. I turn slowly around and look out through the keyhole to see where it was. Only to see another eye looking at me. I let out a yelp and backed myself away from the door. It was never that smart before. The door handle jiggled as the monster tried to open the door. As the handle continued to jiggle, I closed my eyes and prayed to anything that would listen that this wouldn't be my last chase. The room fell silent for a moment. I opened my eyes to see the door wide open but no monster in sight. Where did it go? Soon, I feel its presence somewhere in the room. Fuck! I get up from my sitting position on the floor and scramble to run out the door. I couldn't even get to the end of the hall before something heavy lands on me. "Fuck." I groaned out. I didn't even have to look at what was on me to know that this could be my last game of cat and mouse. "Alright fucker, get it over with. Either release me to start a new chase or you...?" The sudden removal of weight made me extremely confused. I turned around looking for the monster only to see its tail whipping around frantically and its feet dangling above the ground. What the fuck? My body froze up on the ground I couldn't move even with my brain screaming at me to get up and run. I stayed glued to the floor in fear of whatever is holding the monster that's been chasing me. I watched in horror as the tail of the monster gets ripped off cleanly by some invisible force making the monster let out what I could only assume was a scream of pain. I quickly stood up and moved back as I watch the blood splatter onto the floor and walls. Watching little holes appear from where the blood once was. My eyes trailed back to the monster that is trying hard to fight for its life but is failing miserably to defend itself. I watched in shock as the invisible force started to show its true self. My eyes widened with fear. My mother had told me stories of these aliens. She said they were called yautja. She always said they hunted in groups of two but sometimes in groups of three depending on how big the hunt is going to be. I took a few steps back. Fuck, what am I going to do? Turning my back fully to the yautja and I booked it down the hall. Almost slipping when I took the corner to fast. "Fuck." I mumbled to myself. Finally seeing the stairs of the house come into view only to see another one of those monsters coming up the stairs. You have got to be fucking kidding me. I quickly turned my ass around and ran back to where I came from. Only to bump into a wall. Wait that wasn't there just a second ago. Oh god no. I felt it put its hand on me and push me to the side. It's... It's not going to hurt me? I looked at it confused and watched as it rushed towards the other monster and grabbed it by the throat quickly grabbing its tail before it could strike. Fuck not this again. Come on (y/n) think. There has to be another exit out of this place. Quickly coming back to reality when I felt hands wrap around my waist and throw me over their shoulder. What? What the fuck is happening? "Hey, could you put me down you got bigger things to kill then me." I spoke. All I got in response was clicking. "I have no clue what you're saying to me but I'm willing to tell you where the queen of these things is, if you let me go." I told it. It stopped in its tracks and thought about it for a moment. Quickly putting me down and standing in front of me waiting for me to tell it. Oh well that worked better than I thought. "She's in the basement." I told it softly. I looked it over and I could tell it was a male of the species. He put his hands on my shoulders as a way to tell me to stay put and don't move. He started clicking as if communicating to someone else and soon enough I hear two different responses come back from behind me. I jumped and turned around. Only to be met by two others of his species. Oh, so this is a big hunt for them. Great just fucking great. I crossed my arms annoyed as I watched the other two make their way down the stairs and what I'm assuming is the leader of this hunt gives me pat on the shoulder before he makes his way after them. I think I can leave while they're distracted with the queen downstairs. I looked down the stairs and don't see them but that doesn't mean they're not around. Uncrossing my arms, I slowly make my way down the stairs, being as quiet as I can. Once I reached the final step and I looked around, not like I'd know if someone was around or not anyway. I looked at the front door that was wide open and I saw the outside world for once. I mean I've seen it through a window from time to time but never this close. I took a few steps towards the door and soon I began to run. I ran outside barefoot, the feeling of the grass against my feet was such a weird sensation but felt so good to me. I continued to run until I reached the edge of the woods. My eyes widening as I realized I made it out of that hell whole alive. Lifting my head and looking up at the sky, a single tear fell down my cheek. "I did it mom. I did it for the both of us." I whispered towards the sky. I stood there for a few more minutes before focusing on the task at hand. I took one last look back at the house that was my own hell on earth and then back at the woods in front of me. I carefully make my way through the trees. Leaving my sent on random trees just in case those aliens came hunting for me. I continued to walk through the trees and watched as the sun started to set. I stopped walking when I noticed how dark it was getting. Good thing I suck at making fucking fires. Maybe I should have stayed put and waited for him to come back. I sighed annoyed with myself as I got down on my knees and started digging a hole for an attempt at a fire later. Once I was satisfied with the hole I dug, I grabbed some pine needles next to me and put it in the hole. Standing up I dusted my hands off and began my search for sticks. I didn't dare wander to far from where I was setting up my camp because I feared that I wouldn't find it in the dark and then have to start all over again. I picked up a good stack of sticks before going back over to my makeshift fire pit. Dropping to my knees I put a few sticks in then did that stick trick where you rub two sticks together to start a fire. I sat there for a few minutes doing this and realized how fucking dumb I felt. Throwing the sticks as far as I could away from me, I glared in the direction I threw them. "Great just great. Oh wow (y/n) you survived those monsters but now you might die in the woods because you can't even start a fire to keep warm." I said sarcastically to myself. I stand up and look at my surroundings. Maybe I can just keep walking until I can find some shelter. Starting to walk in a random direction I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I continued to walk but would look around every so often to ease my paranoia. The cold seemed to set in quick as goosebumps raised from my skin. I rubbed my arms to try and keep warm, but it wasn't helping. My body shivered as I continued to look. My feet had gone numb a few minutes ago but I kept pushing myself to walk. Letting out a yawn I realized how tired I truly was. "Fuck... I need to find shelter soon." I whispered quietly to myself. Soon I began to feel hopeless when I still hadn't found any shelter. I groaned and just let my body drop. Too tired to keep myself up and walking. I curled up into a ball to try and conserve whatever little heat I had left. It felt like I had laid there for hours but it was only minutes before I felt a warmth near me. I picked my head up and saw a figure standing near me. Am I going to die? Is that death? I thought to myself. Soon I heard the clicking noises and I knew they found me. What a weak prey I am for them. This wouldn't be an honorable kill for them at all. "I thought I told you to stay where you were." He said to me. Did he... did he just talk to me? No clicks or anything. Why didn't he say anything to me back at the house? It doesn't matter I'm going to die anyway. "Now look at you practically frozen. Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He spoke softly to me. I'm sorry did I hear that right? I looked at him confused. "M-my m-m-mother?" I asked. He gives me a look at me in a way that he could show he was confused threw his helmet but nods his head. I shivered in his arms, and he pulled me closer. "Need to get you warm." He spoke. He made some clicking noises to his hunting party. I'm assuming that's him telling them it's time to go. I snuggled closer to his body. Man was he warm. It's almost like my own personal furnace. I looked up at him with curiosity. This seems out of character for these yautja. When my mother told me about them, she always said they are ruthless hunters and honorable warriors. She never once said that they were kind or anything along those lines. I started to fall asleep in his arms after realizing I'm actually safe and not in harm. "Get some rest human. You're going to need it for the long journey." He said quietly to me. Seemed as if I slept for days, I mean it could have been days with how tired my body was. When I had woken up, I was in a bed covered in fur that I've never seen before. Wait a bed?!?! I sat up quickly and started to look around in a panic. The sound of a door sliding open caught my attention. Turning my attention to the door I see the yautja that had saved me, that was holding me before I fell asleep in his arms. He made a few clicking sounds before he spoke. "Ah you're awake finally. We're going to be landing soon." He told me. What landing soon? How long have I been sleeping for? This triggered another panic to fill me. Where the fuck am I right now? I looked away from him when I felt tears fill my eyes. I don't want him to see me crying. I hear him huff and then footsteps approaching the bed. I covered my face as I felt the tears begin to fall down my cheeks. I felt the furs get pulled back from me and then I felt arms wrap around me pulling me close to them. It was strange, not a bad strange but a good strange. It's been so long since I've had physical contact. I mean sure he carried me around yesterday to wherever I am now and touched my shoulders yesterday or what I'm assuming was just yesterday. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't even realize that he had started to purr and pulled me even closer to him to the point I was sitting on his lap. I looked up at him and he looked so at peace with me like this. "I'm sorry." I whispered quietly to him. "I'm so sorry." I felt so weak in front of him. He just held me closer to him and kept purring in hopes that it would calm me down. The sound of the door sliding open caught my attention again but not enough for me to look. He quickly took me off his lap and sat me down next to him. "Hello Du'sa." Wait I know that voice. My head shot up and I looked towards the doorway. My eyes widened. I turned to look at Du'sa then back to the person at the doors. My body filled with shock and then excitement. I got out of the bed quickly almost falling but I caught myself. I ran over to the figure in the door tackling them in a hug. "MOM!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR ALIVE!" I yelled out in excitement. I heard her laughter fill my ears and she hugged me back. Something felt off though. Something wasn't sitting right in my gut. This didn't sound like her usual laughter and her hug didn't feel the same. I was soon pulled off of her by force. "Hey whoa it's fine Vi-Zata." My mom said quickly. I turn my head to see one of Du'sa's species holding me away from her. I felt uncomfortable immediately. This all didn't seem right to me. Something was wrong and I couldn't figure out why. My gut feeling was deepening. Soon I feel myself get yanked into another hard body and purring could be heard. I knew it was Du'sa. I moved closer to him for comfort although I didn't know him very well something about him brought me peace. "This is the human I was telling you about Vi-Zata, my daughter (y/n). You know the one I thought was dead." She sounded slightly annoyed with the last sentence. That's when it hit me. I broke free from Du'sa and just went back into the room from where we were standing in the hall of the ship. She was hoping I was dead. She didn't want me to come here. I jumped back on to the bed from its floating platform. I heard a curious click sound and then the door shut. "Are you okay?" Du'sa asked me. I didn't look at him. I let out a slight sniffle. "She left me behind. She used me as a distraction for them... My own mother used me as bait to escape and for what? Her to get saved by your kind. She could have told them about me and that I was trapped. She left me to die and didn't care. She sent you on a mission in hopes you wouldn't find me. Here I was thinking She had died 20 years ago. Kept surviving because I thought that's what she would have wanted but as it turns out she actually wanted me to die. You should of just left me where you found me Du'sa." I said quietly to him. I hung my head in shame. I felt horrible he had to go on mission that my mom was hoping he'd fail to find me. "I had to bring you back here. She's married to the elder of this pack." I hear him say. I finally take a look at him and notice he didn't have his helmet on. Huh his eyes were a bright yellow almost green they were pretty. He was missing one of the mandibles on his face and his locks were now in full view. He had a few charms wrapped around a couple of his locks. All and all he was strikingly handsome for his kind. I was so caught up with looking at him I didn't realize that he had gotten closer to me. "You're not staying on the ship. You're going to come with me to my home. You'll be my guest." He said to me. Before I could refuse or even protest, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I let out a surprise gasped. "Du'sa put me down!" I yelled at him. He let out a chuckle but kept me on his shoulder as he carried me out of the room that I was in and off the ship. My mother nowhere to be seen. Good I didn't want to see her anyways. I quickly shielded my eyes from the bright light of the day when he finally stepped off the ship and on to what I'm assuming is his home planet. I feel him stop as he's approached by someone. Clicking could be heard as they spoke in their native language. I feel his grip on me tighten and a feeling of unease fell upon me. I feel his body tense up a bit as he continued this conversation with whoever he was speaking with. I tried to twist a little bit to see who he was speaking to, but he adjusted me again on his shoulder, so I was unable to see who he was speaking to. Well, that's rude. I crossed my arms annoyed with him. I felt something touch my leg and instantly pulled my leg away well as much as I could seeing that I'm being held here. Honestly, it's starting to get uncomfortable up here, but the conversation still went on even after a warning sound was made by Du'sa. "Du'sa I'm getting really uncomfortable. Can I please be put down." I asked him quietly. I heard him pause in the middle of his sentence as if to think about what I just asked him. I waited a minute until I felt myself getting put down. When I was finally on my feet and steady, he continued with his conversation. Why is this conversation going on for this long? I finally turned, and I saw the one that was holding me away from my mom. I shouldn't even call her mom anymore. I looked between him and Du'sa. Vi-Zata kept looking at me here and there and kept making gestures towards me. What was he saying about me. Then I hear one word slip out "weak." I looked at the ground and heard another warning come from Du'sa. I could hear his tone of clicking change he was getting mad. Something about Vi-Zata made me uneasy and feel as if I'm in danger. I moved back when Vi-Zata reached for my arm and hid more behind Du'sa. I grabbed on to Du'sa's arm as if I was a scared child. I'm not scared of Vi-Zata but I'm not giving him another chance to touch me. Du'sa looked back at me to make sure I was fine. My body language was giving timid and wanting to leave but I didn't want to stop the conversation he was having. He looked back at Vi-Zata and said something before turning back to me. "You've been summoned by the elder. Vi-Zata is here to take you back to his home." Du'sa said to me. I looked him dead straight in the eyes and made the most serious face I've ever made. "I'm not going with him." I told him. Du'sa gave me a confused look. "I'm sure the elder is a nice man but I'm not going anywhere with him. Our first meeting he was ready to rip me apart if Jeanette didn't stop him. I don't feel particularly safe in his hands. I'd rather you come with me." I said while I looked at him. "I wasn't invited." Du'sa said. I crossed my arms and stood my ground. "Then I'm not going." I looked at Vi-Zata. "Tell your elder that I do appreciate this invite to meet him but I'm kindly turning it down." I told him. Vi-Zata roared at me and took a step closer to me. I looked at Du'sa who stood in front of me in a protective way. "I'm not afraid of you. I lived in a house filled with xenomorphs since I was five. You think that you're going to scare me with that pathetic roar." I said with a small laugh. They both froze at my bold statement. "Oh, did Jeanette does not tell you guys about how old I was when she left me for dead. Yea I survived that and I sure as hell won't let anyone push me around. I'm stronger than you think and I'm not going to take any bullshit you're putting my way. So now tell your elder I will not be going unless Du'sa comes with me. As my protector." I told him sternly. Vi-Zata looked at Du'sa as if to tell me something. I see Du'sa sigh. "(Y/n) Vi-Zata is the elder." He said to me. I looked at him and then looked at Vi-Zata. "My invitation is still being turned down." I spoke. They both looked at me shocked. "First of all, I don't even know where the hell I am, and secondly, I know nothing about your species." I told them truthfully. Du'sa turned his attention back to the elder and started saying something in their native language. Vi-zata looked from Du'sa to me. He shook his head and said something back to Du'sa. I sigh, getting frustrated that I couldn't understand what was being said about me. Du'sa looked back at me really quick and then turned his attention back to Vi-Zata. The sun beating down on me was finally getting to me. I started to fan my shirt out and wiped my forehead. This caught both of their attention. "What's wrong?" I hear Du'sa asked me. "Hot. Extremely hot." I said to him. He nods his head and says one last thing to Vi-Zata before picking me up bridal style and carrying me away. I heard Vi-Zata let a roar out, and it sounded mad. "Du'sa what did you say to him?" I asked curiously. "I told him no, you will not be joining him if I'm not there, and that's final. You told him I was your protector. I have to honor that." He said truthfully. "Why did he invite me to go with him, and why did he keep touching me?" I asked him genuinely confused. "I'll explain that later." He said quickly. We finally reached Du'sa's hut, and as soon as we walked in, he put me down. I went to say some to him, but he walked back outside. Huh, I poked my head out from behind the cloth door and saw Vi-Zata. He followed us... Does he not know what no means? I watched as the two started talking again. You know what? This is none of my business. I walked away from the door and looked around his hut. This is so spacious I mean it makes since their species are fucking huge. Giants compared to me. I laughed to myself about that. As I continued to explore, I came upon what I'm guessing was his trophy room. I see multiple different bones and skulls. All ranging in size. The smallest is a human skull still connected to the spine. I gulped a little bit, feeling uneasy with that, and I quickly moved on to look at the rest. I walked closer to biggest skull he had hung up. I knew this skull I dealt with its kind for 20 years. It still amazed me. I mean I saw him rip the tails off of two of them. I was so deep in thought while looking at the skull I didn't even realize I was no longer alone. "There you are." I heard Jeanette's voice say. I jumped from the sudden sound of someone else being there. I turn around and I see her standing in the doorway of Du'sa's trophy room. She laughs at my jumpiness and smiles at me. I felt uneasy being alone with her. After what had occurred earlier, I don't think I could ever trust her. "Du'sa?!" I yell out a bit. Jeanette rolls her eyes at me. "He's busy right now talking to his elder about you. He was being quite disrespectful when it came to you. I've never seen him act that way. Our mightiest hunter turned disrespectful." She said to me. I rolled my eyes at her and crossed my arms. "You want to know what's more disrespectful?" I ask her with a smirk on my face. She looks at me confused. "You. You're the most disrespectful person I have ever met. You left me for dead and didn't care. I killed two of those things by the age of 7. They're not that bright if I'm going to be honest with you. You didn't even bother to tell them about me when you got saved. Your selfish and don't deserve to hold the title of a mother. You're a piece of shit that somehow got lucky when you should have died like I thought you did all those years ago." I said to her. "Also, you're nothing to me, Jeanette. I should have known it was going to end with me being by myself. I mean, you practically got dad killed when I was 4. I had to teach myself how to survive. I didn't have it like you did. Getting pampered because 'I'm the elder's wife and I deserve the respect' news flash, Jeanette respect is earned, not given, and especially not given to a coward like you." I told her truthfully with tears coming down my face. She came rushing after me when I had finished everything I said. I quickly moved out of the way and screamed, "Du'sa!!!" Soon, I hear two sets of footsteps rushing to where we were. I see Du'sa and Vi-Zata come through the doorway as Jeanette throws something at me. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and ducked in time. Whatever she threw at me got stuck in the wall that was behind me. Du'sa quickly came to me and looked me over while Vi-Zata rushed to his wife. I could hear her screaming something in their language. "What happened?" Du'sa asked me. He looked at me with some concern. Before I could answer he turned to look behind him at the elder and the elder's wife. The elder was angrily clicking at him and then pointing to me. Soon the elder came up to me pushing Du'sa out of the way and clicking angrily at me. I look at Du'sa for some type of help. "He's saying that you disrespected his wife and is now ordering you to apologize." He spoke. The elder got closer to my face and it triggered something in me. I punched him as hard as I could in the face, and he stopped clicking out of shock. "Get. Out. Of. My. Face." I told him through gritted teeth. Vi-zata moved away from me in complete and utter shock that a human out of all creatures just punched him with strength he's only seen younger yautja have. "I don't respect low lives like your wife. I'll respect you because you're the head person, and I do apologize for punching you, but I will not be apologizing to your wife." I told him as I stepped away from him. But he grabs me and lifts me up in the air. I catch a glimpse of Jeanette's face, and she's smiling away in excitement. "Put me down now!" I yelled at him. All he did was ignore me and continued to turn me around while holding me in the air. What the fuck is happening?!? Soon clicking can be heard. "He said that your strong and have a warrior's spirit in you. He wants you to train with me." Du'sa tells me. Thank God for him telling me what's being said. Soon my feet are back on the ground and Vi-Zata is walking back to his wife. He said something to her and then turns his attention to Du'sa. He said one last thing to Du'sa before he left with his wife by his side looking unhappy. I finally turned around to see what she threw at me. What the fuck is that? I stepped closer to it and saw that it was end point to a xenomorphs tail. You got to be kidding me. "This should be fucking proof she wants me dead." I mumbled to myself. I hear Du'sa chuckle behind me. "Oh, she said a lot of things about you to the elder. One of them being that you need to be killed for being disrespectful." Du'sa said to me. Looked at him and smirked a bit. "Yup definitely wanted me dead." I said to him.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

did i just bingeread everything you posted? absolutely. do i regret it. absolutely not. ✨you are an amazing writer!!!💕 And while we’re at it can i request a scenario where Niragi goes crazy and scares his s/o really bad but he gets kinda soft and tries to comfort them later? If that makes sense haha And also a giant thank you for writing in gender neutral!!🥺💕

Thank you so much for reading my fics! I’m honestly really flattered haha 😅 Here is you’re request!

Comfort From A Tormentor | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC)

Summary: Niragi tries to comfort you, his S/O, after you witnessed his murderous behaviour for the first time

Warnings: toxic relationship, blood, murder, graphic violence, pushy behaviour, reader watches someone being killed, going into shock, panic attack, quite intense trauma, slight abuse of power

Word Count: 2.4k

*reader is gender-neutral

You always knew that Niragi wasn’t the kindness at The Beach, which was quite blatantly obvious. When people heard you guys had gotten together and were now in an established relationship, you had many people express their concerns privately with you, labelling him as an evil and violent character. You always shook it off, because you’d seen nothing of the sort during the time you had spent with him.

The worst you ever saw him say or do was a threat, or a short punch to the ribs as a warning, but even then the victims usually deserved it. You hadn’t experienced one of Niragi’s ‘outbreaks’ that people have discussed with you about. You started to believe it was all rumours to keep you away from him until he lost it one night in front of you, causing you to believe everything you had been told about him.

It was a usual night at The Beach, people parading around the pool and filling their brains and sinuses with alcohol, allowing them to forget their shared hardships for the evening.

You sat in a small booth that was excluded from the rest of the crowd. Your head was leaning on Niragi’s broad shoulder as you watched everyone dance to the blaring music. You felt the bass vibrate through the ground and in your chest, making you excited from the fun atmosphere.

Niragi lifted his hand and pet your head softly. “You okay little mouse?” he checked, bringing his face closer to yours and placing his lips on your cheek. You turned your head towards him and brushed your lips on his. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you whispered. Niragi smirked and rubbed his hand along your bare leg. “We can go to bed soon, let’s just stay a little longer.”

Niragi shifted underneath you and stood up, making you lean back against the cushioned backrest. “I’m going to get a drink,” he stated bluntly before picking up his rifle from the small table that sat in front of you. “Don’t let anyone touch you otherwise you’ll regret it.”

You felt uneasy at his threat, but you knew if you just listened to him he would never carry through his brutal promises. He wasn’t that hard of a personality to figure out.

You watched as he strolled away towards the bar, leaving you by yourself and cold in the booth. You moved your eyes from him and looked around to everyone else, watching a few people jump into the pool and laugh together. You wished Niragi had less of a important placing at The Beach so he could relax like everyone else instead of constantly having to deal with stupid drunken dickheads causing trouble.

You looked over towards the bar again to see if you could spot Niragi, but couldn’t see him from where you were sitting. You needed to go to the bathroom and you were wondering if you could make it before he returned. You shrugged your shoulders and stood up on your feet to leave. It wouldn’t be that long, and besides if he did some back to you not being there, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s just the bathroom.

You quickly made your way past the few crowds of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled your nostrils as you pushed through, making your face scrunch up in disgust. No matter how long you spend there, you would never grow used to the party smell.

You made your way to the lobby to get to the bathroom located there. It was a quiet walk and hardly anyone was in the halls. It made you more calm, knowing that no one was around to bring you a hard time.

But unfortunately, you thought too soon. As you arrived at the lobby and were crossing the main lounge area, a young man with jet black hair and blue board shorts stood up from one of the couches. You failed to notice him earlier due to him being hidden behind the backrest.

“Oh hey!” he exclaimed your way excitedly. “I thought you’d come here. I saw you drink a rather large cocktail earlier so I just guessed you’d show up some time soon or later.”

You froze in shock, looking the man up and down with confusion written on your face. “What?”

He shook his head as he slowly made his way over to your frame. “Forget it. I wanted to get you away from your psychotic side piece so I could get a chance with you without being killed.” His smile was a bit too creepy for your liking, bringing an unpleasant tingling feeling up your back.

You stepped back as he attempted to reach out and grab your hand. He slowly recoiled with a frown on his tanned face. You shook your head and hands, denying his movements towards you. “No thanks actually. I’m not interested,” you insisted, turning your back to try and escape into the bathroom.

You felt your heart drop from the sudden grip on your wrist, pulling you back towards the annoying man and into his chest. He lifted your chin so you were looking at him and crashed his lips onto yours.

You panicked, ripping your arm out of his grip and pushing him away from you. He stumbled back a bit before smirking at your angered expression.

“What the fuck was that?!” you screamed at him, wiping his saliva off of your mouth in disgust. “Did no one ever teach you what no means?!”

Before the man could respond, a piercing sound of gunshots rang through the room. You covered your ears and dropped to the ground in fear of being hit. You looked towards the man and saw him crouching as well with a few bullet marks scattering the carpet around him. They barely missed him.

You kept your head down low in case of another load being shot at any moment, but you were grabbed by your upper arm and pulled up roughly after a few short moments. Niragi stood there, angered expression on his face and tightening his grip on your arm. You felt your blood pumping with adrenaline from his movements.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he hissed into your face, being way too quiet for your liking.

You didn’t know what to say. Your words were trapped in your throat, being held there by the shock of the gunshots and Niragi’s anger towards you.

“I told you to not let anyone touch you. And how hard is it to stay in one place for five minutes?!” His fist moved from your arm to your jaw, holding it tightly so you would face him. Tears were developing in your eyes. You tried to stop them from rolling down your cheeks in fear of angering Niragi more, but the pain throbbing in your jaw made it nothing but more difficult. This wasn’t the Niragi you knew. He’s never laid a violent hand on you before.

“Niragi, stop,” you whimpered out, holding onto his wrist that was hurting you. “It hurts.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be hurt after not listening to me.” Niragi finally released his grip from your jaw. You dropped to the ground, clutching your face in pain and letting out quiet sobs. The look in his eyes was menacing, making him seem unpredictable. You were terrified, pushing your legs against the carpet to separate yourself from his tall frame.

You watched as he turned away from you and walked towards the young man, who scrambled to his feet to try and run away. But Niragi leaped towards him and grabbed his shoulder before he could do so. He pulled him back harshly onto the ground and placed a boot on his chest, keeping him there. The man struggled until Niragi held the barrel of his gun against his forehead, making the petrified man freeze underneath him.

You watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed harder and harder on his bare chest, making the defenseless man cry out in fear of breaking a rib. “You’ve made a huge mistake my friend,” he growled, sticking his tongue out and showing off his piercing. “You dare touch what’s mine, you suffer the consequences.”

You leant up against the concrete wall, feeling too weak and in shock to stand up. You cried and screamed as you watched Niragi stamp his foot incredibly harshly on the man’s head several times. Blood poured down the side of his face and he put his hands up in defense, which deemed useless against Niragi’s strength. Niragi didn’t stop, moving his aim from the man’s face to his chest, hands, stomach, groin and thighs. His screams of pain and suffering echoed around the room, ringing in your ears and making your heart ache. Yes, he did attempt to force himself onto you, but hearing another human screeching out for help when you could do nothing was one of the most painful things you could ever inflict on an empath such as yourself.

You shook violently and covered your eyes with your hands, not wanting to see anymore. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate into the wind. You wanted to wake up back at home, in your safe warm bed from before the Borderland. You felt sick from the contrasting differences between the world in your head and the one you were physically in. Why couldn’t you just fade away?

You felt a presence in front of your shivering form, and you slowly peeled away your hands to reveal the abuser in front of you, looking into your eyes worryingly. Your stomach dropped from catching a glimpse of the blood splattered lightly across his attractive features. You felt nausea building in your stomach, making you want to throw up.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Niragi lifted a hand and tried to place it on your cheek, but you flinched away violently and screamed as you crawled onto your hands and knees, attempting to quickly escape him. It was deemed almost impossible to do considering the emotional state you were in at that moment. You just watched your lover beat a man until the light left his eyes, you weren’t going to recover from the shock quickly.

You cried as he grabbed your ankle and roughly pulled you back. You struggled against his grip and tried to shake his hands off of your shoulders and waist desperately. You were terrified that he was going to hurt you, beat you until you were dead just like his other victim.

“Baby! Why are you so scared?! Hold still!” Niragi cried, attempting to hold your thrashing body against his to quiet you down. He was feeling desperate and helpless, what was happening to you? You’ve never done this before. He thought maybe you were in shock and thinking that he was the man trying to force himself on you.

“Y/N! It’s me! I’m here, you’re okay!” he cried in a frightened tone. He managed to pull you roughly by your waist into his lap and held the back of your head against his chest area. He began to shake himself, being so worried about your emotional state. He felt you suddenly stop struggling in his arms, hearing your soft sobs of fear against his shirt.

“What’s going on baby? You’re scaring me,” he groaned into your neck. You shivered against him, feeling too weak to even push yourself from his chest. You could do nothing but sit in his lap, terrified of the man who was attempting to comfort you.

“It’s okay. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he cooed, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm your rapid breathing. He let out a shaky breath, being on the verge of tears. He felt his heart rapidly pumping in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. He was at least comforted at the fact that you were back in his arms, away from everyone and everything that wanted to separate you from him.

He leaned his head back and looked at your face tucked into his chest. He saw your tight hands scrunching his black and white button-up into themselves, making him feel soft at how vulnerable and small you looked.

“It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

You tried to level your breathing, listening to Niragi’s heartbeat to focus on something else other than the fact that he had just murdered someone in front of you.

Everything everyone had said was true. Niragi was purely an evil person, filled to the brim with violence and murderous impulses. You repented your doubts so badly, wishing that you had listened. But you chose to give him a chance to be a good person for once in his life, and he threw it out the window. Only now, you couldn’t escape him. You had to now live with being the object of a murderer’s desires.

You felt Niragi snake his arms underneath your knees and shoulders gently, standing up from the ground with you in his arms. You clutched onto him from around his neck, tears still slowly travelling down your face.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm? My little baby must be so tired after all that.”

‘After all that’. He said it like it was nothing more than a bad day. Your boyfriend just killed someone in front of you and then just forced you back into his arms. This wasn’t a bad day, it was a traumatic experience that would stay with you for the rest of your life, remembering every detail and image of the event vividly.

“Niragi,” you mumbled. He glanced down to your weak frame, face going soft from the tired expression across your features. “Shh, don’t speak. Just go to sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t want him to be there when you woke. In fact, you didn’t want to wake up at all. You felt miserable and defenseless in his arms, wishing for nothing more than to wake up and for it to be all some horrific dream.

But you didn’t wake up, because it was your reality. Niragi’s delusional, obsessive and abusive mindset was nothing new anymore, it was normal everyday life for you from then on.

[deviltoys]

— ‘𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆!’

itadori yuuji x top!male reader. (wc; 1.3k)

#a/n: JESUS, AFTER MY DRAFT POSTING AT LEAST FIVE TIMES— IT'S DONE!

warnings. NSFW CONTENT, MINORS DNI, football au, ftm itadori, exhibitionism, choking, spanking, rough sex, dirty sex, barebacking, no prep, dacryphilia, sir k., pet name (puppy), belly bulge, implied oral.

dim lights, the roar of people in the stands, the booming voice of the announcer amongst the crowd, cheerleading sqaud egging on their side in hopes of them outplaying the opposing team, and sweaty guys all lined up for a chance to win it; it was like every other friday night game. all the essentials were there.

your eyes locked with itadori’s light chestnut ones glistening with heart and motivation, he traced the opening in your movements; preparing for the golden opportunity to throw you the match winning pass. with your arms perched out in front of you he played his cards and took the risk, planting the ball right between your palms— calculated and clean you sunk the ball in-between your forearm and chest.

you had caught the toss, nothing less from the team's starting quarterback and receiver. together, you were a gnarly duo, the ultimate combination of talent.

carrying your team to victory was common practice for the two of you, there wasn't a single game that had happened throughout your third year career where you two hadn't been the mvp’s. just another notch onto the school's metaphorical belt, being a powerhouse school you had a reputation to uphold. you all had gone undefeated for years, another win was what you were known for— which also meant another reward for your puppy’s outstanding preformance on the field.

it was routine, a few months prior itadori was overwhelmingly titillated after a long and straining practice. he had outshined his fellow peers and you couldn't help but feel the need to help him relive some stress after a hard day; you'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit pent up yourself. so from then on, every match you two would win and every practice he demolished, you'd drill his brains out as soon as you two found a little privacy.

this time was different though, you were horny, he was horny— he wouldn't stop rubbing up on you as you exited the field and that was your breaking point.

at the rate in which he was clawing to remove your jersey, you were sure he'd rip the fabric right in two; he was so needy. you're dizzyingly hot as you draw an arm around his waist, letting your fingers slide between the waistband and the hem of his boxers.

“yuuji, this is your last chance. you sure you wanna do this now? because i won't be showing you any mercy puppy. practice will be a pain when you can barely walk.” you growl and bite at the nape of his neck, the gravel in your tone twisting with your hot breath only made you even more irresistible. how could he say no?

“mhm, i can handle it sir! i’ll take all the cum you give my greedy pussy!” his confirmation was only useless banter, you already had his pants pressed down to his kneepads. his milky skin was so plush, his puffy ass was messily rubbing right into your palms; just asking to be spanked into oblivion.

itadori whimpered with the sensation your warm hands brought upon his sweaty ass— the moisture from running around made the dewy flesh erupt harshly against your palm. it was far louder than expected, you wouldn't be surprised if the suspicious noise turned a few heads your direction. but you didn't care, they could watch you break your boyfriend all they pleased, you were only there to reward him.

sloppily, you drag your half exposed boyfriend deeper under cover of the bleachers. you two were sheltered by the metal seating— rows of attendees still roaming around the area, just threatening to unveil the naughty act.

you're reaching over and rubbing the front of his cunt, hastily trying to stimulate his swollen clit while itadori attempts to push the length of your cock inside of his desperate heat. your rough, broad hands spread him wide, suddenly aware of how absolutely filthy he looks. the grueling approach of your palms flushing his creamy white complexion a profound sheen of red didn't do his drooling pussy any favours— but the way you bait the head of your leaking cock over his slit makes him shudder and his brain fizzle into mush.

his cheeks were completely battered, the sting of humiliation overthrew any pain he may have been experiencing. if not, the deliciously overwhelming stretch of your cock around his velvet walls surely did the trick. you plunge inside of him and he's lost in euphoria, mind unable to function with the motion of your thrusts.

“i thought you said you could handle it baby, where's all that vigor now?” he throws his head back as you snake a few fingers around his throat, teasing a few more before finally clamping down. his back arches into your chest pads, whining and vibrating with excitement; you couldn't tell if it was how nicely you were treating his pussy or how badly he wanted to be used like a ragdoll. either way, you continued to plant rough spanks on his ass while the hand around his neck steadied your hips right against his sweet spot.

he was losing himself, thoughts disconnecting from reality.

“i..c- can't sir! m’sorry, you're too big!” despite his protests, you continue to grind the head of your cock right up against his cervix. he's physically unable to fit anymore of your thick, pulsing length inside and frowns slighty— wishing he could take you deep enough to paint his tongue white.

“can’t? i don't do, can't, puppy.” sure enough, your balls twitch once, twice, as they delve deeper into his creamy womb— so messy and dumb as he bucks his hips weakily in an last ditch effort to stuff himself full. a groan rumbles throughout your body as his first orgasm of the night shakes your shaft wonderfully, body still insisting he draw out as much pleasure as humanly possible.

his cunt splatters slick down your cock, adding to the mess that was already stirring around his tummy. the more wetness that collected the more inviting his hole was to your shaft— his stomach forming a very prominent, round bulge that showed off your cock very well. a telltale sign that his guts were surely moving to match your jabs.

it's too full— he was too full— but you didn't stop, your seed spilling out of his pussy as the sounds from his underside blended with his beautiful moans to create a lewd symphony. he was so overstimulated and so enthralled, eyes slightly crossing together and hot, salty tears leaking from his eyes as you fucked him through the both of your highs.

his cock bounced so pitifully as your merciless reign of hip-thrusts didn't slow from when you two had started. with one last, wholly thrust your warm, potent cum pumped blissfully into his infertile womb— his cunt overflowing with semen that would soon be selfishly sucked in like the rest.

the changes to his body made you undyingly hungry; wave after wave of your twitching cock just resting inside of him, desperately wanting to breech those sweet walls once more. he was bottomed out, his spent hole gaping around seemingly nothing as your dick popped out with little resistance; the cum from both of your groins pooling into a small puddle in the grass.

the way you rocked in and out of his meek, useless body made his resolve crumble so easily. his knees buckled out from under him and sent him onto the ground below— you were in need of a reward yourself, were you not?

it took him a minute, but soon you had him neatly settled between your legs; eyes wide with lust when the grin sprawled across your lips gave him the go ahead.

his body was still perfectly able to preform simple actions and that meant he wasn't finished. fucking and feeding him from both holes was your goal and let's just say a few janitors observed the two of you leaving, the quarterback snug between your arms— unable to move properly without support.

[mxtantrights]

The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.” 

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you. 

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked. 

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite. 

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.” 

“What are you a fortune cookie?” 

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.” 

2 DAYS LATER 

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine. 

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.” 

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.” 

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.” 

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.” 

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you. 

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two. 

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once. 

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally. 

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19. 

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him.  And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest. 

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.” 

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.” 

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh. 

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.” 

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door.  And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Onyx |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.4k

Lesson 6: when all seems lost, do not falter. Just because it seems hopeless does not mean it is.

Previous: Ruby >> Onyx: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Crown

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

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Juyeon cannot breathe.

Physically, there’s a blade right at his throat. Though killing isn’t allowed in duels, the metal is close enough to his skin that it makes taking a breath a bit difficult.

But that’s not the biggest problem. The issue right now is the recognition that has just sparked in Jaehyun’s expression, surprise and realization creeping over his face the longer he stares Juyeon straight in the eyes.

Castling queens.

Jaehyun’s arm drops, the blade falling to rest at his side. Almost as quickly as the realization came, it disappears under a blank mask as he extends a hand.

Juyeon stares at it for a moment. Tries to think. Jaehyun knows who I am he knows who I am he definitely saw it this is the worst thing possible I thought he wouldn’t recognize me –

Shakily, he takes Jaehyun’s hand and shakes it once, twice. His skin feels clammy and cold even under the afternoon sun. He almost wants to look at Jaehyun and see if that blank look is still on his face, but fear keeps his eyes averted as he retracts his arm.

He needs to get out of here, needs to run, needs to find Kevin and Jacob and get away from this place immediately. That much is clear. Juyeon darts his gaze around, still studiously avoiding Jaehyun even as raucous screams and cheers begin to rise from the crowd.

Then a sweep of ivory skirts flashes in the corner of his vision.

Somin.

Queens, he needs to leave, now.

Jaehyun bows low, seemingly unaware of Juyeon panicking not two feet away from him. “Your Majesty,” he says smoothly.

Belatedly, Juyeon remembers he should be echoing Jaehyun’s manners. Dipping down, he murmurs a quiet greeting, hoping against hope that she won’t be able to recognize him, won’t make the same connections Jaehyun did just moments ago.

Oh, queens.

Jaehyun.

What if he says something?

“Esteemed general.” The sweetly familiar voice makes Juyeon’s skin crawl. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Juyeon misses the next exchange. He’s too busy darting his gaze around the arena, looking for a single exit where he can slip into the crowd or just book it because there’s no way Somin won’t recognize him the second she looks into his eyes, assuming she hasn’t already figured him out already –

Guards line the perimeter of the arena. People crowd every space between the ivory suits.

Somin turns to him just as Juyeon comes to the worst realization possible.

There’s nowhere to run.

“Kim Jiyoon.”

Raised eyebrow. Wide smirk. Evil eyes.

She knows.

Juyeon takes a tiny step back, bowing low once more. “Your Majesty,” he mumbles, praying for a miracle, praying for something, anything, anyone to save him from this, maybe Jaehyun will turn out not to be an Ivory bastard and will say or do something –

Blank eyes meet his frantic expression. Something twists in Juyeon’s heart as Jaehyun purposely averts his gaze.

So much for old friendships.

A hand grasps his chin. Juyeon gasps as Somin jerks his head up, fingers curling around the ivory fabric that covers his nose and mouth.

For one moment, they lock eyes. Somin’s glitter with manic satisfaction.

Then she rips the mask away, leaving his face bare to the world.

It takes Juyeon several seconds to realize the entire arena has fallen quiet. Eyes widen, hands fly to mouths, fingers begin to point as Somin’s smirk grows wider and wider.

Jaehyun didn’t need to say anything, after all.

“Prince Juyeon.” She spits his name like dirt on her lips. “What a surprise. Long time no see, yes?”

“What a blessing,” he replies, hiding his racing heart behind a bland smile. “I always liked the former queen more than you, after all.”

The smirk turns to a sneer as she waves a hand, almost dismissively. Footsteps sound on the hard-packed dirt of the arena and Juyeon barely has a second to ready himself before two pairs of hands grab his arms and pull them tight behind his back.

He thrashes. Snarls. Tries to bite, even, the way Changmin used to when they were kids –

Changmin.

The breath leaves Juyeon’s chest in a gasp. Pawns and kings, this is just how Changmin felt when he was trapped in the shrine, unable to use magic, unable to fight.

Helpless.

“Isn’t that perfect, then?” Somin mocks, oblivious to the bile rising in Juyeon’s throat. “You’ll be seeing my lovely sibling tomorrow when you’re executed at dawn.” Her sneer grows as she leans in to whisper something against his ear. “And if you’re lucky, you might reunite with that gray mage of yours as well.”

Vomit splatters over the front of Somin’s dress. Through the rotten taste in his mouth, Juyeon takes a tiny satisfaction in her screech of disgust, even as the guards tighten their hold uncomfortably on his wrists. “If you’re lucky, that’ll wash out of your dress,” he snipes, spitting leftover bile onto the dusty ground. Some of it spatters onto her shoes.

Somin breathes in once, twice, her face red. Juyeon allows a smirk to grow on his face, even as certainty of his execution looms nearer with every second that passes.

So close to death, he might as well have some fun.

“Take him away,” Somin snarls. “And begin a search for his two little friends. Don’t let them leave the city!”

Kevin. Jacob.

Smirk gone, Juyeon frantically scans the crowds for the faces of his two friends as guards begin to march him away. They can’t come after him, can’t do anything, queens, what if Kevin decides to do something like break him out of prison, that can’t happen –

Terrified eyes meet his, nose and mouth covered in a familiar cloth. A red cloak peeks from behind the man standing next to Kevin.

Juyeon shakes his head subtly. Don’t follow, don’t do anything stupid, don’t come after me, hide, leave –

Strong hands drag him forward once more. Juyeon loses sight of his friends.

And for the first time since the start of the journey, he is alone.

Completely alone.

. . . . .

Kevin nearly falls forward the second he stumbles out of Jacob’s door. He manages to catch himself against the wall right in front of him, where he leans, trying to breathe.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

He never should’ve agreed to this idea, never should have brought it up in the first place. It was always too risky, too dangerous, and no matter what slim, small chance there was at success, Kevin never should have hoped they would be lucky enough to fall into that sliver of luck. Nothing’s been on their side since the coronation, so why start now?

How many people has Kevin let down by now? How many people has Kevin killed by now? First Sunwoo, who wasn’t supposed to be here, who wasn’t supposed to be part of this fight, who Kevin called on because he really had the nerve to believe that they would succeed without pain, without death. A single stroke of idiocy in following the amethyst’s pull resulted in a knife pulled across two necks, one by accident, one in revenge.

Kevin squeezes his eyes shut, breaths sharp and ragged. Two deaths, then. Not just Sunwoo. Mage Han, too.

And now he has a third name to add to that list.

Lee Juyeon. Royalty. Best friend since birth. Almost a brother – if not in blood, then in friendship.

He’s the reason Juyeon is about to be killed.

“Kevin.” Jacob’s voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts, forces him to open his eyes. His ashen face looks about as bad as Kevin feels. “We need to get out of here. I shifted us to the first place that came to mind, but –”

“Yeah.” Kevin takes a shuddering breath. His words sound shakier than he would’ve liked. “Yeah, I know. Let’s go.”

Never mind that neither of them knows where to go in the first place.

Jacob moves his hands in the air, creates another door against the wall. They step through to the space just outside the tiny, abandoned house – more like a shed, really – that they’ve been using as a hideout since they entered the capital. This time, the second Kevin exits the door, he collapses to his knees.

This is his fault, all his fault. If he’d never suggested it, they wouldn’t have any leads, but at least Juyeon would still be here, not sitting in some dungeon awaiting his execution tomorrow morning.

Execution. Kevin almost throws up at the thought.

Jacob stumbles next to him, falling onto dirty grass as well. They sit in silence for a moment, only ragged breaths escaping into the air.

“We need to get him out,” Kevin finally whispers. “He needs to escape, we can’t leave him there…”

It isn’t even just the fact that Juyeon is Kevin’s best friend. The heir to the king’s crown can’t die. It would leave a gaping power vacuum in the Onyx Kingdom – there’s no trained next in line, no one as capable as Juyeon is.

Which is exactly what Somin wants.

“I know.” Jacob swallows. “I know. But…” He gestures vaguely, helplessly. “How?”

How, indeed. Kevin may have been to the capital many times, but he’s never seen any of the several prisons. He couldn’t direct Jacob anywhere without a map, without something to guide himself, and since Jacob has never seen them himself, he can’t shift there either.

Queens, he’s a failure. Juyeon and Sunwoo rescued him from Bom – Sunwoo even died in the process – but Kevin can’t even think of a plan to help Juyeon escape. Not even the most improbable idea springs into his mind, an idea that definitely won’t work but that he would be desperate enough to try anyway.

Silence falls as Kevin tries to rack his brains for something, anything that doesn’t involve another possible brush with death. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing –

Then a twig snaps.

Kevin whirls around, knife already whizzing through the air. There’s a sharp yelp and a thud of metal sinking into something decidedly not flesh.

A young man – more of a boy, really – steps forward. Though his hands are raised in surrender, the calm, sure look in his eyes tells Kevin that the gesture is more for show than anything else.

Unconsciously, his hand grabs Jacob’s wrist. He takes a step back, dragging the mage with him as he slips a second knife from his sleeve. “Who are you?”

“My name is Eric.” He nods at the knife between Kevin’s fingers. “You can put down the knife, I don’t mean any harm. Jaehyun sent me to find you.”

Jacob sucks in a sharp gasp just as Kevin’s blood runs cold. “Jaehyun?”

“He’s breaking Juyeon out tonight.” Eric puts his hands down to point at them. “You two need to come with me –”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Jacob snaps. “How did you find this place? I shifted, there’s no way you could have followed us from the arena.”

“Jaehyun recognized Kevin the first day at the contest registration,” Eric replies. His calmness is starting to get on Kevin’s nerves. “Well, he wasn’t sure, so he asked me to follow you back. Lo and behold, you were traveling with the prince, which meant Jaehyun wasn’t wrong. When Juyeon was arrested, he sent me to find you.”

“You could be lying.” Kevin grits his teeth, fingers clenching around the knife even though something tells him Eric would be able to dodge easily. “You and Jaehyun could be working with the queen to root us out and catch us. We have no reason to trust you.”

Eric’s lip curls. “You don’t,” he snaps, “but you could at least trust Jaehyun. Haven’t you known him much longer than I?”

“People change,” Kevin retorts. “None of us ever thought Somin would kill her family for the throne, did we?”

No one argues, not even Eric. For several moments, they only stand in silence. Then –

“Jaehyun’s breaking the prince out tonight,” Eric says lowly. “That’s why he told me to find you. And I know you don’t know me at all, but I can tell you that not all of us in the army support the queen’s agenda. Jaehyun and I are only two of many more.”

There’s nothing to support his claims, no evidence, no testimony, absolutely nothing to back up his words. With every second that passes, Kevin feels the growing urge to tell Jacob to create a door, to shift them away from this so that they can figure out a plan that doesn’t rely on a certain general who may or may not be on their side.

But something tells him that Eric speaks the truth. Maybe it’s his eyes, which are clear, or it’s the weird feeling Kevin got when he spoke to Jaehyun that one time. Maybe it’s just blind hope. Either way, he feels his grip loosening on Jacob’s wrist, his shoulders relaxing, ready to take Eric’s invitation and leave.

He glances at Jacob. Do we trust him?

Jacob’s lips press into a thin line, but he nods tersely, almost imperceptibly. Yes.

They have to.

Kevin steps forward. Narrows his eyes. “One sign of betrayal and I will not hesitate to put a knife through your back.”

“And Jaehyun said you were the nicer one,” Eric mutters.

“There isn’t a lot of room for nice at the moment, in case you didn’t notice.”

Eric smirks. It reminds Kevin a little too much of Sunwoo. “You’re not wrong,” he says blithely before his smile turns into a frown. “Now hurry. We need to get to the forest by nightfall.”

. . . . .

Blood has begun to stain Juyeon’s hands by the time he finally gives up on somehow trying to wrench apart the bars of the dark cell. Even if he can’t see the redness dripping down his skin, he can certainly feel the stinging pain of cuts reopened and wounds made afresh.

What was he even thinking? Juyeon slides down the back wall to the ground, burying his head in his arms. Not even a mage can cut or bend metal with their bare hands – how could he?

He sighs. It figures, just as soon as they managed to find four of the jewels, they would get screwed over on the fifth. And not even the normal kind of screw up – he got caught by the queen herself and has a nearly one hundred percent chance of dying within the next twenty-four hours.

Nearly. Not completely, because there’s always the tiniest chance that Kevin will come up with something in that crazy brain of his to break him out, which will undoubtedly be messy and dangerous and possibly result in even more death, but there’s the smallest sliver of a hope that it’ll work.

Hope means nothing, though. He had hope that he’d be crowned king. He had hope that they’d find the jewels. He had hope that they’d return home (relatively) unscathed.

And for what? All it got him was this tiny cell with not even a candle for light.

Juyeon brings a hand to his face. Too late, he remembers it’s covered in blood, which is now spattered across his forehead. It’s even around his eyelids, assuming the wet feeling there isn’t from tears.

Maybe it’s both.

He sighs again, closing his eyes again as he wipes a sleeve against his skin. It doesn’t make much of a difference. The cell is so dark that his eyes may as well be shut even when they’re open.

Pawns and kings, Juyeon didn’t even know there was a prison in this part of the capital. Apparently it’s for the most dangerous prisoners, those who need to be kept completely out of sight to rot away in darkness.

Juyeon has exactly one night to rot. Probably won’t be enough to make himself skeletal enough that Somin jumps when he emerges into the light tomorrow.

A tiny smile stretches across his lips as he remembers vomit splattering onto ivory skirts. Gross, but effective.

It disappears as soon as he remembers what awaits him in the morning.

Morning. Juyeon almost snorts. Down here in the darkness, it’s all but impossible to monitor the passage of time. Has it been minutes? Hours? Has the night passed? It could be morning already for all he knows, considering his drooping eyelids, but that’s a common occurrence at this point, with how little sleep he gets on a daily basis. And he definitely isn’t about to sleep now – who knows what nightmares will come, dreams of shades and roses and corpses of dead friends?

So when he hears a slight noise down the prison, a tap-tap-tap of footsteps on hard stone, Juyeon concludes that dawn has broken, that he’ll be marched out to the town square and presented with a sword or a noose from which to choose his preferred method of death. A sword would probably be quicker, but if the executioner isn’t skilled, then hanging might be better –

Wait, tapping?

Juyeon listens more closely. The footsteps sound light, almost weightless – definitely not those of a guard’s heavy boots. Shouldn’t guards be the ones bringing him to his death? He strains his vision, peering into the darkness, but he can’t see anything.

The footsteps grow closer. Someone finally stops in front of Juyeon’s cell. He frowns. Why is there only one person? Not that he particularly cares, but Somin wouldn’t just send one guard to get him. He’s not unskilled, and she’s not dumb – she knows he can overpower one guard easily –

A soft whuff sounds as the figure slips a bundle through the iron bars. “Hurry up and get changed,” a familiar voice hisses. “Your ivory is too noticeable in the dark.”

Juyeon almost stops breathing.

“Jaehyun?”

“More time for that later,” Jaehyun snaps. “We have five minutes, get yourself together.”

Shaky, bloodstained fingers pull off the white shirt and trousers, messily replacing them with the black clothes Jaehyun dropped onto the floor. As he fumbles, a click and the rasp of metal on metal sounds at the front of the cell, and the iron door groans open.

“Don’t talk,” Jaehyun whispers the second Juyeon steps into the dark hallway. “And follow me exactly.”

Juyeon wants to snap, wants to say something about how it can be possible to do that when he can barely see one foot in front of himself, but Jaehyun sets off without another word and Juyeon is forced to use his ears to figure out where the general is going.

They wind around dark staircases and pass empty cells, ducking into tiny passages that Juyeon is sure he never could have found even if he was looking. He itches to speak, itches to ask Jaehyun just what in the name of the Board he’s doing, why is he breaking Juyeon out, what are his loyalties, and where is he taking him, if not to his execution? But every time he opens his mouth, Jaehyun either shoves him into a room or someone passes by a little too close and he has to hold his tongue.

Finally, finally, Jaehyun opens a last door, dragging him into what smells like a stable. They tramp over dirty hay and other things Juyeon doesn’t want to guess from the stench, and then they’re in open air under a cloudy sky, only the palest hint of moonlight shining through.

Juyeon blinks. The white marble of the palace glints faintly in the distance.

“Follow this path,” Jaehyun says, pointing at a trail of dirt through the grass. “It’ll take you to the woods just around the capital. Kevin and Jacob will be waiting for you there –”

“Wait.” Juyeon takes a breath. Breathes in, breathes out, trying to make sense of everything. “How did you know where to find them? How did you know they were here?” Because if Jaehyun managed to find them, others also could have, which means Kevin and Jacob might be in even more danger –

“Juyeon.” Jaehyun’s voice jerks him out of his mind. “The only reason I knew Kevin was here was because I talked to him the day of registration. I wasn’t sure of it at first – he’s gotten better at acting – but I sent Eric to follow and when he told me you were also there, I knew it was him. No one else knows besides us.”

“Who’s Eric?”

“Subordinate.” Jaehyun’s eyes turn steely. “I trust him with my life.”

Pawns and kings, this is too much for Juyeon to take in. Closing his eyes again, he tries to breathe. “Queens,” he mutters. “Okay. Fine. Wow.” He rubs his forehead. “I really thought you were following Somin.”

Jaehyun snorts. “I never liked her, not even when we were kids,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You think I’d like her now?”

“You’re a knight,” Juyeon retorts. “You’re supposed to be loyal to the crown. I couldn’t even fault you for that, it’s what you’re supposed to do –”

“But when said crown is abusing their power, do they deserve my support?” Jaehyun interrupts.

Juyeon falls silent.

“That’s what I thought.” A ghost of a smirk flutters across Jaehyun’s face as he pulls something out of his pocket. “This is the stone I was given when I won. I hope it helps.”

It doesn’t call to him. There’s no pull of magic from the onyx, not even as Juyeon takes it between his fingers. It looks like the real thing – it’s been perfectly copied, down to the slim white bands marring the black stone – but if he can’t feel anything…

It’s fake.

Disappointment drops like a rock in Juyeon’s stomach, but he wraps his fingers around the jewel anyway. Jaehyun’s broken him out of prison. He’s still alive. If the onyx really is a fake, Jacob can at least get the magic traces out of it.

All isn’t lost. Not yet.

“Thank you,” Juyeon replies, slipping the stone into his pocket. “Are you going to run, too? Somin won’t exactly be excited if she figures out you were the one who broke me out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Jaehyun’s smirk becomes more pronounced, though it’s tinged with bitterness. “I’m still playing the part of the perfect general back at home. Haven’t been given the assignments at the front, since I’m still young, which is honestly a good thing. Leaves me room to mess things up.” He snorts. “And none of the guards I knocked out today will remember a thing when they wake.”

“How can you be sure?”

“A different weapon goes a long way. So does a mask.” Jaehyun smiles. “Kevin’s a good sewer. I really almost didn’t recognize him, what with his acting and all.”

Juyeon almost laughs. “I’ll let him know.”

Jaehyun smirks. “You need to go,” he says then, smile gone. “Follow this path, find Kevin and Jacob, then get out of here as fast as you can. It’ll be a bit before they figure out you’re gone, but Somin still has people looking for your friends. They’ll be looking for you, too, soon.” He half-grins. “Good luck.”

It feels like hours have passed by the time Juyeon finally reaches the edge of the woods, though it’s probably only been some minutes with how fast he’s run. He nearly barrels right into Kevin, whose black clothes nearly blend in with the night, but Jacob catches him just before he does and they all fall in together, collapsing on the forest floor with choked cries and hysterical laughs.

“Queens,” Jacob gasps. “Queens, we thought –”

“We thought you might be dead,” Kevin finishes.

Juyeon wipes his eyes. “I’m not,” he replies, smiling shakily at his two friends. “I’m alive.”

No sarcastic remark comes from either of them. Kevin just swallows, looking pale as Jacob brushes a hand across his face. “We’re not doing anything risky like that ever again,” Kevin says. “Never. If you had died…”

“I didn’t, though,” Juyeon protests, but even he understands where Kevin’s coming from. If any of them had died, Juyeon would’ve broken down. He can’t imagine how Kevin or Jacob must’ve felt when he was taken away. Instead of arguing, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the onyx stone. “Jaehyun gave this to me. Pretty sure it’s fake.”

Jacob barely even needs to look at the jewel before he nods. “It’s definitely a fake,” he says, taking it from Juyeon’s hand. “But there’s magic on it. Strong magic.”

Kevin glances over. “Do you know where it leads?”

Wordlessly, Jacob stands. Closes his eyes. For a moment, he stays silent. Then he points out of the forest, back into the capital.

Queens.

“By all the higher orders, we just can’t catch a break,” Kevin mutters, pinching his nose. “Seriously? In the capital?”

Jacob nods, eyes heavy. “It’s there.”

“Well.” Juyeon stands. “Looks like we need to break that rule of not doing anything risky.”

Not funny. Juyeon understands that even before Kevin shoots him a look of absolute judgement, before Jacob bites his lip so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t bleed. He steps back, apologetic, but he knows he’s right. “We need to follow it,” Juyeon says, trying to harden his gaze. “We’re this close. We need any lead we can get, and we need to go now, when no one knows I’ve escaped.”

“Then we stay together,” Kevin says, eyes solemn. “No one goes anywhere alone. No splitting up.”

Juyeon casts his friend a strange glance. He can understand being cautious and worried, but the desperation in Kevin’s tone doesn’t feel normal. Why does he look so high strung, so anxious?

Whatever. Juyeon shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thoughts. No time for that now. “Yes,” he replies, setting his jaw. “We’ll stay together. Jacob, can you shift us somewhere discreet?”

“Yeah, there’s the alley Kevin and I hid in at first. I’ll see if I can track the trace from there.” And within seconds, they have a door, a door of polished white stone that shimmers under the moonlight that manages to pass through the trees.

Juyeon puts his hand on the handle, swallowing hard. This is going to be dangerous. They might be walking into a death trap, what with all the soldiers who must be looking for Kevin and Jacob. It’ll only get worse when they realize he’s escaped.

But they need to do this. For themselves, for their kingdom, for Sunwoo, for everyone who’s died so far for Somin’s delusions of power.

Jaehyun told him to get out of here as fast as he could.

Juyeon twists the handle.

He’ll have to pass that advice for now.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for juyeon to not make a bad decision jfc)

[kythed]

the fallen

futakuchi x reader

synopsis: it’s a fallen world, and futakuchi is a fallen man. apocalypse au.

Strength alone won’t carry you through the end of the world. 

Futakuchi Kenji knows this better than anyone. He’s seen countless men go down, most of them armed with machetes, rifles, and muscles three times the mass of his own. They walk around with the bravado of decorated generals only to get taken out by a single biter lurking in the storage closet of an abandoned gas station, destined to join the putrid ranks of the undead.

No, strength is not enough. You have to be clever, too. Extremely clever. 

That’s the only way Kenji’s stuck around this long, he thinks, shoving cans into his backpack. He’s kneeling in front of a shelf in an empty supermarket, replenishing his rations without even bothering to read the labels. He can’t afford to be picky. Nowadays, “good food” is just whatever doesn’t give you salmonella. 

He happens to catch the words on the last can as he gingerly places it atop the pile. Chicken noodle soup, it reads. Zipping the bag up and hefting it onto his shoulders, he wrinkles his nose-- he hates chicken noodle. 

Clever means something else, too. Before, it meant report cards littered with As, college scholarships, knowing how to find the differential of a function. Now, it means survival. It means being able to keep your body moving even when every single fiber of your being is screaming at you to stop. It means knowing how to find clean water, how to bandage a tourniquet, how to identify biter tracks and have the good sense to bolt the opposite direction.

It means being able to leave people behind. 

Kenji slips out the supermarket entrance, careful to avoid ringing the little bell that still hangs from the doorframe, a mockery of what was once civilization. Swiveling his head in every direction, he scans for even the barest trace of biters before darting out into the middle of the road, careful to keep the cans in his bag from rattling too loudly. 

He’d started out with a small group comprised of several guys from his hometown. In retrospect, Kenji thinks he should’ve split that first week. Then maybe he wouldn’t have had to see Iwaizumi trampled by a herd of rabid biters, reduced to a bloodstain on the sidewalk. He wouldn’t have seen Kamasaki torn limb from limb right before his eyes while he could do nothing but watch in horror, paralyzed by fear. 

Kenji is glad he’s run out of tears to cry. 

“Fuck off!” 

He’s shaken from his reverie by a string of cuss words and a drawn out scream, followed by the solid thwack of metal on flesh and the angry hissing of a biter. 

“Somebody! Anybody, please! Help me!” 

Sounds like a girl, Kenji thinks. He hates coming across girls-- that’s something he never, ever thought he’d say back before everything went to shit. But girls have always been more trouble than they’re worth, and it’s even truer these days. Kenji shrugs his shoulders, shifting the weight of his bag a smidge, and tries to trudge on. 

“Please!” 

Kenji cringes, halting in his tracks. Your voice is so achingly desperate, torn raw by terror. It’s the voice of someone who wants to live. And that, well, that’s something Kenji can relate to. 

Against his better judgement, he heaves a heavy sigh and turns on his heel, grasping the duct taped handle of a baseball bat protruding from his bag’s outer pocket and spinning it in a practiced motion. He sprints towards the sound of your voice, silently hoping he’ll arrive before a biter takes a nasty chunk out of your arm. 

Kenji is clever, and he knows it. He can find clean water, bandage wounds, and track biters. But leaving people behind? That’s something he has to work on. 

-- 

You’re backed into a corner, wedged between the brick wall of a storefront and a recycling bin. Three biters claw at you and you swing at them with a crowbar, but it seems futile-- they’re already dead, and you’re not sure if they can even die again. 

“HEY!” Kenji calls, tossing his bag to the side. The biters turn towards him with clumsy, lurching motions, decaying flesh dripping from their bones and empty sockets where their eyes should be. “Come and get me, shitheads! Bet I taste a whole lot better!” 

One by one, they obey, snarling as they approach him. And one by one, Kenji takes them out with a violent swing to the head. Wide eyed, chest still heaving, you watch as their brains splatter on the sidewalk in foul pink lumps. 

When the last biter falls to the ground, Kenji looks up at you breathlessly. “You good?” 

He’s more than taken aback when you run towards him and throw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. Instinctively, he returns the embrace, pulling you close by the waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he feels your heartbeat thumping wildly against his own rib cage. “Thank you, thank you. I really thought I was dying today.” 

For a fraction of a second, he lets himself melt into your arms. It’s been a long time since he’s touched another human, and even longer since he’s hugged one. Sighing, he gently pries you off by the shoulders. 

“No problem,” he says. You’re still clutching at his sleeve, looking up at him with something like admiration-- or maybe shock. He clears his throat and nods curtly, carefully pulling your wrist away and turning to grab his bag. “Uh, good luck out there, I guess. I gotta go.” 

“Hey, wait,” you say, and he does, despite himself. More than anything, he wants to get out of there and back on track. He can’t risk the burden of company— in the apocalypse, company just means a broken heart waiting to happen. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, no you’re not,” he says, a wry laugh threatening to rip from his lips. “I travel alone.” 

“Not anymore,” you say, and for a moment Kenji is speechless-- a rare occurrence. “Don’t give me that lone wolf shit. It’s a dangerous world out there, and two is better than one.”

Kenji raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re the one who was almost lunch just now. I can handle myself just fine.” 

“Can you?” you say, stepping closer. You stare pointedly at his forearm, and he groans inwardly. He’d forgotten about that. It’s a cut, fairly shallow but long, and it’s begun to turn an oozing orangey-yellow. He’d caught his arm on a chain link fence he’d been trying to vault over— lame. “That doesn’t look good.”

“I know how to bandage a cut,” Kenji insists. It’s not a lie. But the issue is really that—

“It’s infected,” you say. You tilt your head back towards the storefront. “I have Neosporin in there. And half a bottle of painkillers, which you might need, depending on how bad that little scratch gets.” 

“I’m fine,” Kenji insists. The “little scratch” throbs painfully as he lies through his teeth. “It’ll take care of itself.” 

“Like hell it will,” you snort, glancing towards the store again. A faded sign above the doorway reads Miyazawa’s Convenience Corner, accompanied by the image of a grinning cat. “Wait just one second, then we can get going.”

Kenji doesn’t know why, but when you scamper into the store, he stays. He glances at his watch, a silver analog whose glass is split in two by a crack straight down the middle. He’d found it on the wrist of the first biter he’d ever taken down. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you call, emerging once again. You’re bearing a backpack similar to his-- threadbare and distinctly not yours. He wonders who it used to belong to. “You got a camp?” 

“Woah, slow your roll,” he says. He crosses his arms and stares down at you-- you’re pretty, he notices, underneath that layer of sweat and grime. You’re the type of girl he probably would’ve tried to hit on in the past. “First of all, I don’t even want you to come with me.”

You scowl at him, ready to disagree-- he silences your protests with a raised finger. 

“But,” he adds, “if you insist on doing so, we need to set some ground rules.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you say, giving him a mock salute and a bright smile. He rolls his eyes. 

“First,” he says, sternly as he can manage, “I get all the canned oranges we find.”

You raise your eyebrows but nod nonetheless. 

“Second, we don’t interact with other groups. Humans can be just as fatal as biters.” Kenji’s had to learn this the hard way, and from the way you swallow, expression solemn, he thinks you must’ve too. 

“Lastly,” he says, allowing himself a small smile as he bends down near your ear. “Don’t fall in love with me.” 

“Like I’d ever,” you scoff, stepping back. “You’re not my type. You just happen to be the only other person I’ve seen for months.” 

“I’m everyone’s type,” Kenji says, with about as much confidence as he’d say the sky is blue and the grass is green. “Just be careful.” 

“Sure,” you concede, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “So long as you don’t fall in love with me, either.” 

“I’ll try my best,” Kenji says, and he will. He can’t afford to fall in love. Love is a painful, risky business-- and it’s expensive. Love costs a whole heart and about half a brain, two things he’s going to need if he wants to survive. 

Still, you’re pretty. Real pretty. You’re kind of funny, too-- a deadly combination, and he’s no Achilles.

When he starts walking towards the street, you follow, struggling to match his long strides. He shoots a glance over his shoulder, along with a wicked smile. He’s missed this. “But no promises.”

[pinkykitten]

everything stays

chapter 1 - blood on her hands :: gisela klein [ an aot oc story ] 

note: hey guys i know its been a rlly long time since ive posted anything and u may be rlly let down and underwhelmed that ive chosen to write a aot oc instead of fanfic but its what i want to write and i rlly love my oc and wanna give her some love and some praise and let u a little in how i see her. im sorry i havent posted a lot im going to try to write more and who knows i may or may not finish this but its ok imma try lol but life sometimes is a butthole. i hope you love her as much as i do an tysm for taking time out of ur day to read this story. enjoy!

Even though she knew that this day would have to come and that it was near, it still was a surprise for her. She was taken aback. It didn’t make sense and add up to her; she was trained for this since she was little; preparing mentally and physically for phase one of the plan; and the day appeared through the trees; past the wall; the opportunity was present; the fate of the people were waiting in their hands; and yet she felt a sense of evilness within her heart. Was this right? But there was no time. 

The day was written down in history. The stories were spread around like a disease. Heights, jaws, teeth, feet, stench, the screams. If they survived that nightmare they were seen as a tough soldier; as someone that was applauded because they probably had PTSD and had to see everyday as a reason within themselves or God that they were alive. That maybe just maybe they were saved for a reason; for a purpose. That is what Gisela Klein thought. Maybe there was something greater out there for her to do, to accomplish and that was why she saw another day; breathed another breath. 

But one thing was for sure. Forgiveness would never come her way; she would never expect it. To be a warrior she had to endure the horror; the pain; feelings of worthlessness; and friendships lost. 

This is the story of the 10th finding titan; the Slash Titan.

The pounding of her heart rang through her ears. It had taken everything for her to keep going on this journey; to continue on the path to and through Hell. She felt a loss within her and the light in her eyes died out. The loss of her friend made it hard for her to function. To keep her head in the game and in the plan. 

She sighed as she stared at her hands. Broken and bruised like her heart; scars and scratches scattered on her skin. Her bite mark deeply engraved into her flesh. She heaved a huge sigh. Ready to give death a handshake and make a deal with the devil. Panic was rising in her chest from her stomach, almost ready to throw up. 

As she thought about her family back home she realized there was no other way; she had to do this. In order to be with her family, to save them she had to do the one thing she was trained to do. 

Kill.

A lightning strike shot over the wall. The wall that kept the monsters away and at bay. Something was wrong; the air seemed to change. The lightning strike caused a boom, clap and the ground started to shake. 

Bertholdt drew his leg back and with full force swung his leg forward, knocking a hole into the wall that was impenetrable. Many people flew back from the wind of the blow and some were crushed by the debris of the wall. 

Many were going to die; but it’s what needed to be done. 

The titans were called. 

Finally the titans entered the devils homes and started to rip up their lives. “This is right, this is right.” Gisela had to keep reminding herself. “For my family.” And something snapped within her. The image of her mother, tortured, flashed in her mind. And suddenly everything was worth it. “No regrets.”

Gisela eyed Reiner, an agreement, a sign. She exhaled and in a quick motion placed her hand to her mouth and bit into it. In a spark she transformed into her titan form. Her eyes were much like a cats, sharp. She was made into the slash titan, she was chosen for this program. Her titans fingers were like sharp knives, able to cut any object or person. They hung a little past her knees. 

Reiner then transformed and both stomped past the hole. Many citizens glanced up, horrified. Gisela and Reiner were titans never seen before. 

She nodded to Reiner, bent down and started to pick up debris and pieces of houses to throw over the bigger wall. The chunks started to smash against people. Blood splattering everywhere. Gisela almost wanted to close her eyes from the immense amount of dead bodies piled on top of others, graves upon graves. 

She was hauling boulders as high and fast as she could. Her titan held a high amount of power and strength. Being slim, muscular and as tall as the armored titan and female titan. Reiner took a step back and gained his speed to go onward to destroy the bigger wall. 

“Fire!” Their soldiers cried out. Fear evident on their face. They shot their cannons, not even slowing down Reiner. Gisela continued flinging, wanting to create a path for Reiner. She was faster than before and many of her hits flattened the men in the front lines. Their screams and cries loud. 

“Close the gate!” They tried, it was their last hope to save humanity. But it was not enough. Reiner broke the wall and killed those running and they went flying. They reached even higher than Gisela. It astounded her almost, they seemed like helpless birds flying high in the sky; but that thought was quickly wiped clean because the second they flew up in the air they came straight down with much force that many parts of their bodies broke. 

Reiner did what he needed to do, he opened up a way for the titans to get in and they were swarming by the bunches. 

In the distance, the survivors fled in boats across the river to get into the other walls. Gisela put herself in their shoes for a second. They had reason to be scared. Everything they have ever known was gone; their houses, loved ones, food, a place to feel the most comfortable you can feel despite situations; it was all gone. Gisela shook the thought out, not caring about these cruel humans feelings. They had none. No emotions. Gisela had to believe that thought; what she was told, she had to believe it with all her heart, or else what was real?

They waited till they were able to not be seen and Gisela turned human first and then so did Reiner. The four of them hopped on the boat. Talking amongst themselves. The wind howled through the vacant homes. Destruction everywhere. Gisela looked around her setting and saw a little girl had been crushed because a tree fell on her, her doll mere inches away from her grasp. She died with her eyes open; almost looking into Gisela’s soul through the eyes. Gisela’s body trembled and she threw up. 

“Don’t.”

Gisela looked up to see Reiner wiping blood and debris off his clothes. He picked his sleeve and turned Gisela’s head to look away, he wiped her chin and mouth off the puke. He saw the trauma in her eyes and felt guilty. But it’s what needed to be done. He kept telling himself that the more he did this the more he would understand and get used to it. It was still all new to her and he had to be strong for her. He knelt in front of her small frame. “It’s not your fault. They needed to die. We are in this together. You don’t need them. Look at me.”

Gisela looked into his eyes, away from the sadness. His eyes carried the feeling of wanting to be wanted. That was always what Reiner wanted. But they also had fear in his eyes. 

“Stop acting like you’re in control when I know how sick you feel. I know how afraid you are Reiner.”

He paused and took a look at his hands and others surrounding him. “You’re right. But I made a promise to Marcel.”

They joined the other citizens arriving at the food reserves. The master of disguise was needed in this mission. People needed to see four hungry, depressed children that survived the fall of their homes, not mass murderers. 

Annie was only able to fetch two loaves. “Alright, who's the most hungry?”

“You girls should eat, you’re more feeble.” Bertholdt sat on a crate, pointing to Gisela and Annie. 

Annie tsked, moving a bang from her eyes, “who says girls are more feeble? I recall kicking your ass all those times in training.”

“You guys can eat it, I’m not hungry.” Gisela sat on the other crate and saw the chaos of the crowds. A boy caught her interest. He had dark brown hair, tan skin, and light blue green eyes. He was having bread shoved in his mouth and he seemed to have such a strong personality to him. If only Gisela felt so strongly about her motive and her placement in this life. 

“You really should eat, you need your energy after all you did.” Annie broke all the loaves in half and shared it amongst the four of you. “It’s not much but at least it's something.”

Gisela sighed, “you’re right. Thanks.”

After that day there was land given to only a few refugees but there were too many of them. Luckily the four of them had a piece of land that was enough until further inching themselves within society. Through that whole span each day was getting easier and easier living with the lies and day by day Gisela felt more at sure with herself and knowing that she could fulfill this mission. Pills and alcohol helped the pain and ease the thoughts. She taught herself to put a gap between what she came here to do and feelings. She told herself every day that nobody else mattered except her family and Reiner. She trained her brain to not care, to not have strings attached or any love for anything. It was all a play, all a rehearsal for when the curtain would fall. She was readying herself for that fall. Everyday she educated herself more on these scums. What they liked, wanted, needed, craved for, and what they craved more than ever in their life was freedom. 

She trained her body as if it were her last day, barely getting sleep. The face of her mother haunting her every night making her get up at three in the morning to do pushups or sit ups. Not only was her mind getting stronger but also her body. Even Reiner would make jokes noticing the muscles that would appear. The six pack that formed on her stomach. Her thighs growing tight and firm, her arms growing stronger. The sweat growing on her forehead longer. 

With her body growing her relationship with Reiner also changed. They no longer were the tiny children that didn’t understand anatomy or the air between two people. Reiner and Gisela’s relationship was of being flirty, sharing a few kisses here and there, trying to be a couple but then yelling at each other and breaking it up and realizing maybe this isn’t right a million times. Even Bertholdt and Annie were getting tired of their outbursts. But each time they made up to be friends only and then the cycle started where the feelings came in the way and they wanted to be more. They would tease each other, especially Reiner. They were each other's best friends. Gisela was like one of the boys, loud, obnoxious, burping all the time, Reiner would get a look at her and smirk thinking he taught her well. When Reiner looked at her he felt at home and that everything was going to be okay. Her nightmares continued and each time Reiner would come to her room and hold her, let her cry into his arms. She felt he was the only person that knew her pain. 

Gisela understood many things in life and for once she understood her life here, she understood why she was born and chosen. 

It was the following year and in order to get closer to finding the founding titan the four became part of the 104th cadet corps. 

“Are you ready to train more?” Gisela nudged Reiner, eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean train more? This is going to be a new but scary experience honestly.” Reiner spoke as if he was a different person. As if he didn’t have a life outside of the walls. 

“Reiner?” Gisela placed her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked fine on the outside but Gisela knew the issues were inside, his mind. She knew this was becoming disastrous to him, he was starting to have almost two personalities, two lives, two worlds, two people. Gisela tried to tell Annie or Bertholdt, they saw it too but there was nothing they could do. 

All that Gisela could do was smile as they made their way to the first day of training. 

note: again ty y’all sm!!!! If u liked it lmk and this is kinda new for me cuz I usually don’t post my ocs stories here or much at all but I’m rlly excited for y’all to see her and for y’all to know this oc of mine and hopefully accept her ❤️

Taglist: @witchofinterest @chlobenet @eddysocs @fpxloomis @whctsherncme-archive @ocfairygodmother @fandomchick80 @ocappreciationtag

[sleepychai-fics]

Overhaul x Male!Reader N*FW- Dirty Thoughts for a Clean Man

Request: @weird-fandom-loser ; Ayy man. back again. could you maybe do an nsfw one shot (or headcanons) for a bottom overhaul with male s/o? 👉👈😗

Late again with posting but wheres the surprise in that? I would love to get back into the swing of nsfw one shots. Thank you for giving me this request! Im not exactly confident with how it turned out so feedback is GREATLY appreciated

Pronouns: Male

Words: 1975

Buy me a Ko-fi? ←(link in bio)

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Kai’s golden eyes glaze over the sight of you as steam rolls out of the bathroom and lingers around you.

A hand ruffles through your still damp hair, a few strands falling over your face. Your other hand holds the towel that hands around your waist, keeping the lower half of your body hidden whilst the top half is shown off bare.

Kai can’t help but stare at you. The way the muscles move beneath the skin of your arm as you mess with your hair, the gradient shadows that decorate your skin, the way the droplets of water run down your body, sinking past the towel that hangs at your hips.

The towel is a tease, Kai thinks. It hides the most valuable part of you.

He knows that valuable piece of you like the back of his hand. Well, more accurately the palm of his hand. He knows the texture of it, knows how it tastes, how it feels when it’s buried deep inside him.

He feels completely drunk from the sight of you, not that he would ever admit that aloud to someone.

He wants to feel you all over him. Wants your freshly cleansed hands roaming across his chest, teasing his nipples before sinking below his waist to take hold of him. Want to feel the pleasure that ignites within him as you pump him.

“You know,” Golden eyes snap up to meet your own pair of sparkly (e/c). “For a clean man such as yourself, you are quick to think dirty.”

For a second, Kai stands there confused. It isn’t until he feels the tightness building underneath his pants does he understand your comment.

Feigning annoyance, Kai scoffs. “I have no idea what nonsense you’re going on about.” With that, he turns away and takes the few strides to the bed.

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Kai begins to unlatch his mask, setting it gently on the bedside table. Just as he slides his jacket off his shoulders, you step in front of him.

He gasps as your arms come to cage him against the bed, your face mere inches from him. Instinctively, Kai leans back, afraid to be too close to you.

“Come on Kai, you and I both know you’re aching for me to ram you into this mattress.” Your voice is low and vibrates the back of your throat.

What you said was in fact true but there was no way Kai would admit it out loud. It was then that he made the mistake of looking further down your hovering body, only to discover that the towel around your waist had disappeared, revealing your hardening cock. He has to bite his lip to stop the moan that wants to escape past his lips.

He leans away from your as you lean in for a kiss. “Y-You’re filthy.” Oh how badly he wants to slap the stutter out of him.

You merely chuckle at his excuse, lips nibbling at his ear. “I just had a shower, there’s no need to worry about that.”

He can’t deny that, he can smell the custom made shampoo from you.

“You’re going to get me filthy.” For some reason, his own words turn him on more, causing even more strain against his pants.

Hooded eyes glaze with lust as you smirk at him. “Then I guess I’ll have to clean you up afterwards.”

And just like that, the ruthless, violent, and merciless leader of the feared Shie Hassaikai falls into submission.

With a growl of defeat, Kai leans up to complete the kiss. You smile into the kiss as you slowly push him to lay on the bed. He gasps as his back hits the bed. However, the need to be clean is easily overwhelmed by the need for you to be in him.

He welcomes your tongue inside his mouth, letting you explore all the crevices behind his teeth. The kiss only lasts a few more seconds before you pull back.

In utter frustration, Kai snarls. “What are you doing?”

You laugh at his annoyance. “Stripping you down of course.” Fingers glide down his dress shirt, buttons coming undone as they make their way down. Your lips ghost by his ear. “I’m sure you’d like to be fucked butt naked.”

Eagerness washes over Kai, pushing him to sit up, shoving the shirt off. He then hurries to undo his zip but your hands stop him from pulling them down making him choke out a groan.

“Little impatient are we?” You chuckle as you help him remove his pants, freeing his hard cock from it’s tight confines.

Kai throws his head back, mouth wide open in a silent moan as you begin to palm him through his boxers. He lifts a hand up to his chest and begins to pinch and roll his nipple between his fingers.

You groan as you watch him intently. “That’s it handsome, touch yourself for me.”

“You’re taking too long to-” Kai begins to retaliate but a squeeze to his cock stops him and rips a loud moan from him.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite understand you.” You sneer as you lean down to engulf Kai’s other nipple in his mouth.

You press the flat of your tongue against his nipple, teeth barely touching skin. All while you drag his pants and boxers down with one hand and pump his cock with the other.

Kai is in bliss. It’s overwhelming but he loves it.

After a few minutes, you lift off of him, standing above him, eyes hazy over the sight of Kai breathless and sweaty.

It only takes a few seconds for him to be annoyed at the loss of contact. “Why did you stop?”

You shrug. “Just admiring the view.” You smirk at the faint blush that paints his cheeks. Turning to the bedside table, you open the drawer. “Besides, I think it’s time we get you prepped.” You pull out the bottle of lube, lifting it up for him to see.

Kai grunts at the spark of pleasure that shoots through to his dick. “I don’t need to be prepped. I can take you raw.”

Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “No you can’t.” You open the cap and coat a generous amount onto your fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ll prep you nice and good. Stretch you out for my cock.”

Kai fucking whines. He doesn’t mean to but it’s out before he can stop it.

You chuckle, leaning over him with your lubed up fingers tracing the rim of his asshole. “I’ll take that as a ‘Please do it’.”

As you press in one finger, Kai moans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Look at that. Your ass is sucking up my finger. You’re so needy aren’t you?” You say as you pump your finger in and out, curling it to scrape against his walls.

“Then why don’t you add another finger if I’m that needy.” Kai grunts.

“So bossy. You’re lucky I want to bury my dick inside you so much.” You reply, slipping in a second finger.

You continue your treatment, setting a comfortable rhythm. Soon enough you begin to scissor him, stretching out his hole. Kai bucks into your fingers, desperate for more of you.

By the time you add the third finger, he is painfully hard, beads of pre-cum dripping down his vein-popped cock.

“Look at you. Such a mess.” You say as you peer over his spread out body. He wriggles underneath your stare. “I think you’re ready for me now.” You pull your fingers out, leaving his ass clenching around nothing.

Kai wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you down to his level, and presses an open mouthed kiss to your lips. He licks along your lips, diving between them as you open with a smirk.

Kai pulls away after a few lingering seconds. “Just fuck me already.”

“What if I want to stop? Leave you here without fucking you. Leave you squirming in the bitter cold.”

His eyes widen with fear. “Please don’t.”

You burst into laughter at his expression and quick reply. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

Without another breath wasted, you line yourself up with him and thrust into him, burying yourself to the hilt in his ass.

Kai chokes out a loud moan, back arching into you as he clenches around your cock. You dive down to kiss his exposed neck, hips taking off with a steady pace.

Hands come to grip on your biceps, nails digging into your muscles. Kai clenches his jaw, moans coming out as seething breaths.

“You love it when I fuck you hard, don’t you?” You whisper to him, increasing his pace.

Kai can’t think of anything to say back. He can’t think to begin with. The only sounds that come from him are the breathless groans and the occasional open mouthed moans as you hit the sweet spot inside him.

“Look at how dirty you are.”

Kai can feel how dirty he is. He feels sticky with his precum drooling to his stomach. His cock is wet and sticky and he can feel bits of it drying up. Despite all these gross sensations, he loves the feeling of you. The way you continuously pound into him with such ruthless force it feels likes he’s being torn apart. The sensations clash against each other and makes him feel conflicted.

“Why don’t you take a firm hold of your cock baby? Pump it for me.”

For a hot minute, Kai forgot about his cock. He was so busy with the feeling of you that he forgot himself. He barely hesitated to reach down between the two of you and grab his cock tightly. He grimaced at the sticky feeling of his cum before he fought through it and began stroking his cock in time with your thrusts.

“That’s it Kai. Just like that.” You praise him whilst increasing your already ferocious pace.

Kai groans at the building pleasure, his hand increasing its grip on his dick, sending more electrifying pleasure to his brain. Desperate to go over the edge, he begins to move his in time with your thrusts.

An animalistic growl leaves you as you lean down, teeth latching onto his clavicle.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping and breathless moans as you continue to piston your hips into Kai, driving the both of you closer to orgasm.

Kai is the first to cum, hips lifting off the bed, the grip on his cock loosening as thick ropes of cums shoots out, splattering all over your stomach and dribbling onto his own. His muscles twitch in the aftermath, body relaxing as you desperately chase your own end.

You groan into his neck as your hips still, filling him up with your cum. Your hips spasm for seconds after your release before you slowly slip yourself out of him, falling to lay beside Kai.

For a minute, neither of you move, besides your chests as they rise and fall with each breath.

Kai turns to you, hair slick with sweat and sticking to his forehead. He grimaces. “You’re filthy.” He eyes the drying cum on your stomach.

A stream of laughter bubbles out of you. “This is your cum.”

Kai snarls in response. With a deep breath, he sits up. “We need to clean up.”

“Are you sure you can stand?”

Kai glares at you with a vicious glare. He ignores you and stands up from the bed. Regret immediately washes over him as his knees shake beneath him.

You leap up beside him, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Fucked ya’ real good didn’t I?”

Kai groans but leans against you.

“Come on big boy, I’ll help wash you up.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

feedback?

[artsyxloner]

Not just a Monster

Warning: Blood, Violence, death

24: Secrets out

Read 3rd P.O.V

Soo-Nico laid on top of the other dead body's some of her group and others of the invaders. Flies were landing on them as blood seemed in more through their clothes creating large puddles of different types of blood.

The monster inside of Soo-Nico was beginning to fester. Taking over every inch of her body, telling the dying girl to wake up. That it wasn't her time or ever will be inevitable. She was going to evolve into something much more stronger and powerful.

In no time she'll be a ticking time bomb, as her wound was healing already. It would be like nothing had happened. The color was coming back to her ghostly green pale skin going back to its original color Gradually.

" come on!" Her inside monster would yell. " get up." Even though the monster wasn't supposed to care or worry about its host it somehow felt bad. I remembered when I said I'll be real soon the desire to resist us too tempting.

Maybe it was time for it. She couldn't stay full human forever. For humans to survive, they would have to change it was the only way as Soo-Nico had no choice but to Evolve.

Her body gave into the deep void of death that wanted to swallow her whole. Her fingers and toes started to twitch one by one her chest began to rise up and down again.

Then all in one moment her lids flashed open revealing nothing but fully black eyes. Tears dripped from down them As her head inhumanely twisted from side to side giving off sinister smile.

" They think they can kill me?" She laughed crazily, " oh, they can try but they can't kill the desires that are inside!" Soo-Nico sat up. Staring at the dead bodies she sat on top of.

" They can't kill my friends!" Those were the last words that slip out of her bloodied-up dried lips. Thinking about her friends. Those invaders were all going to die.

Soo-Nico P.O.V

When I woke up I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know why I was crying? However, I began to smile, for some reason looking from side to side I felt different.

It was like I had awoken in someone else's body. Soon a couple of memories came flooding back to the surface of my brain. Little fragments here and there. I had stayed with a group inside this apartment building.

But I can't remember anyone else or anything before I came here? I wondered why I was In a darkish closet that smelled weird. And files were everywhere.

I then realized what happened invaders had come in. Attacking my people killing some and trying to kill me in the process little did they know?  My smile widened. " they think they can kill me?" I began to laugh and not the type where I find something funny.

" oh, they can try but they can't kill these desire inside!" I desired to get back at the ones who harmed me did me wrong they were foolish just to kill anyone. I sat up seeing the dead bodies my some of my people, and the invaders.

" They can't kill my friends!" those were the last words that left my lips that tasted strange and felt dry. I thought about my friends and how the others were going to die for what they did.

Standing up I walked towards the door grasping the nob opening it slowly. The light was bright that I had to Squint my eyes and look away for a moment. The air was filled with dust and smoke giving off a haze.

I stayed there for a few seconds until continuing. Soon a dead body came into view it was on fire. It was Sun-Young. Guess she turned too.

Passing the Elevators and the large column that was right around the corner a large man was standing in front of a group I knew who they were.

Their faces showed sorrow, " she's going to die isn't she?" The man with the glasses said. But the guy with the gun wasn't so thrilled and told him to shut up.

Threatening him with his gun, no one noticed me yet as I was standing in someone's blood. Soon others came in I recognized one, with the crazy hair and the sickening urges for girls.

I felt my fingers' nails sharp as I clenched my fist. I wanted to kill him. " Where the hell have you been?!" The man that was guarding asked.  " Shut your trap your breath stinks—" he glanced over at me.

Eyes going wide, I grinned a little. " what the fuck is wrong with that chick?" He pointed and soon everyone was taken back in surprise. By Fear mixed in with relief and confusion. The girl in the red jumper stood up.

" Soo-Nico?!" The girl called, I remembered her name to be Eun-Yoo, she knew about me being infected. Tears were in her eyes. " sit down!!" the man screamed at her. Her brother Eun-Hyuk pulled her down.

" so the bitch is a monster all along," The crazy hair boy walked over to me. " I can't wait to kill you!" He spits raising his weapon but I didn't give him time to by grabbing the inside of his mouth gripping at his jaw.

My black eyes stare into his brown ones he made some gurgling sounds and in one swift move, I jerked his mouth right off of his dirty mouth he won't be able to use.

He fell to the floor with a thud as his blood-covered my hand. My eyes hardened as I saw one of the other men. They pointed their guns at me and began to shoot at me.

I felt the bullets go throw but it didn't hurt. I kept going like it didn't bother me which it didn't. The men began to shake back up, as my bloodied hand shot out into the man's chest.

He Screamed, yanking on to my arm trying to pull away. I felt around then grabbing what I wanted clutching it feeling wet as it beat. I ripped it out staring at the guy's heart I ripped out his eyes rolled in the back of his head as he tried to gasp for air.

I pushed him to the ground, he was already dead before hitting the concrete. Dropping the squishy heart, screams were let out. I turned to them, they wall-scooted away terrified at what they just witnessed. I began to walk towards them but I some began to feel tired my knees went weak. I felt my sticky Palms of my hands hit against the cool concrete. I breathed in and out slowly my eyes went back to normal.

Someone got up and run over to me. It was Eun-Yoo, " are you alright!" she crouched down beside pulling me into her embrace. " I– I'm fine." a huge lump formed into my throat I tried to swallow but it was nearly impossible.

Tears formed in my eyes it all came back to what I just did. " she's– she's one of them a Monster!!" Jae-Hwan called out. I knew it, I looked up they were all staring at him. " well you saw what she did she could do that to us if we don't—" he was interrupted.

" So what Jay-Hwan she saved us?!" Eun-Yoo barked back at him defending me. I stared in awe, she didn't have to do that. " I knew about her being infected for a while now but didn't say anything knowing how you'll react."

Her brother didn't look surprised when I stared at him. " you what she could of—" jay-Hwan tried to speak but Eun-Shook her head. " but she didn't!" The conversation was soon stopped by someone jumping down from the ceiling.

" Eun-Yoo right, she risked her life for us the least we can do is thank her I would have kept it a secret too." Hi-kyeong walked towards us. " thank her?!" Jay-Hwan stood up about to fuss again but expectedly, Eun-Hyuk got up to them and faced him.

" it doesn't matter now, her monster or not she with us." He walked over towards me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, " I'm sorry Soo-Nico, for putting you through all that trouble." He stuck out his hand.

They didn't hate me, I smiled. With my other none bloodied one I took a hold of his and he and his sister helped me up. " I should have said something but I was nervous that you guys would kick me out."

I stared at the group but then noticed Hyun-Su wasn't there. " where's Hyun-Su?" They were quiet, " Jeung-Seob and a couple of others took him to the roof." Eun-Hyuk clarified. Was he okay? Were they going to kill or hurt him?

By the Expression on my face, he could tell what I was thinking. " he was wounded but he'll be okay for now we need to Focus on a plan on what we are going to do." Yi-Kyeong nodded.

" We need to go," she motioned for us to come along Eun-Hyuk helped me walk. But a man came out in front stopping us. " I knew this would happen!" he slapped Ms. Cha and grabbing her from behind pointing his weapon.

" Drop your gun!" Yi-Kyeong threatened to point hers. " we should make a bet on who can kill more people!" He then shot Duk-Silk in the shoulder my eyes widened. Hearing people scream backing up.

" you're going to lose, so drop your fucking gun!" He yelled but Yi-Kyeong held her ground. This pissed him off more than she already was. " I said  drop your fucking gun, you bitch!"

He wasn't playing around, she knew it lowering the weapon. Dropping it on the floor, He soon pushed Ms. Cha harshly and ran to Yi-Kyeong slapping her. She fell to the floor, " This is just the beginning, you bitch!" He cursed kicking her.

I couldn't let this happen as he continued to kick and hit her with the end of his gun. I looked around and found a crowbar grabbing it I got out of Eun-Yoo's hold and ran over towards him bashing it against his head. I backed up as Eun-Hyuk and Byeong-II pushed him up against the tank but the guy's gun went up and began shooting the ceiling. We ducked for cover as Bullets it the glass chandelier shattering into tiny pieces flying everywhere.

The guy with the gun soon flew back hitting the column as his blood splattered all over it. He was dead Turing my head it was Yi-Kyeong the one that shot him. her chest huffed up and down like she was tired.

We all waited a couple more minutes before doing anything making sure there was no one else. I sat down on the ground staring at the mess and the Stench of blood and a burnt body.

Everyone was scared and shaken up as the guys dragged the men That were killed by Me and Yi-Kyeong. I hoped Hyun-Su was okay, if he were to come to do here and see me I wondered what he will think? It was hard to say watching the girl he liked died in his arm, then getting taken by the leader not on when he'll come back if he does then finding out the girl that was supposed to be dead is alive and he'll think the only reason is that she's infected.

What was I going to say? I lied to him all this time making him think I was human. I couldn't remember anything about my family still. Did I even have a mother a father or a brother, sister? Something tells me I didn't have much of one.

Even school I don't remember anything at all it's all a blur in my mind. Hanging my head low tears dripped from my eyes. I made a big mistake of coming here. Maybe I would have been better off I thought until there was the sound of an elevator door opening.

Thinking it was Hyun-Su I quickly got up running over towards it but it was him it was another guy. The others came pointing their weapons at him. Faces Contoured in anger.

He held up his hands in Surrender, " stop it! Stop this we don't have time for it!" The guy cried, " what do you mean?" Byeong-II questioned, " if they come down we're all dead!" I raised an eyebrow who?

Was he talking about Hyun-Su? " what are you talking about?" People pressed their weapons more towards him I was standing right beside Eun-Yoo. " All right I'll put my weapon down, okay!" He laid it on the ground.

Then pulled something out of his Pocket it was a red piece of paper. " here, read this!!" He handed it over to Yi-Kyeong she looked at him suspiciously then took it. Hye-In read it out loud to us.

" special infectee Report guide." She began, my heartbeat started to pick up. " We guarantee the safety of anyone Who reports a special infection. You will be transferred to a safe camp."

She finished my heart dropped in the pit of my stomach. They wouldn't report me, right? My fist clenched, " what does that mean?" I rolled my eyes did that person not listen? " they want to report people like me!" I said out loud looking down.

Of course, something like this would happen. I Sensed they were all staring at me, after hearing that I wasn't sure if I and Hyun-Su were safe here anymore. Anyone will do anything if that means they are assured safety.

It was quiet until a dig went off, slowly my head Rose to see the numbers on the elevator we're going down. " there coming, there coming!" Byeong-II said all Panicked everyone pointed their weapons. I didn't have one and if it was Hyun-Su I wouldn't use it.

Everyone was still as the numbers hot in the Single digits. I counted down from five if they were going to shoot him I would protect him.

THREE, TWO, ONE!

I said in my head as the elevator doors opened.

@xetherealbeautyx @yeolsbubbles

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 13: Where’s the Truth

Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky has to undergo a surgery. Meanwhile, Steve and Sam try to find out the truth. But who should they trust?

Warnings: angst, so much angst!, hospital, surgery, blood, more angst, swearing

Word Count: 2419

A/N: I seriously can’t help myself with all this angst. Actually made myself cry so... Anyway, what did you think of this? Some more assholes in this chapter! Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

You had your eyes closed, hoping that when you open them, everything would go back to normal. The car ride to the hospital was quick and bumpy. You tried to remain positive, but after everything that happened tonight, you didn’t see the silver lining.

Steve and Sam rushed Bucky to the surgery, still letting Brock stay with you. The only good thing was that after a few minutes, Peter joined you as well, saying that both him and Drax were alright. Only a guy called Martin was shot, but despite it being human life that was lost, you couldn’t feel too sorry at the moment. Selfish, you knew, but your current situation was too pressing for your mind to care about anything else.

When Peter sat down, he instinctively grabbed your hand and squeezed, and this little gesture brought tears to your eyes. It felt like ages since somebody showed you anything but hatred or indifference.

Brock saw Peter’s hand and immediately went off.

“You fucking insane kid? This bitch orchestrated the whole thing, and you’re holding her hand as if she wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. She killed Bob for fuck’s sake! And if I hadn’t come in time, I bet she would’ve finished boss as well,” Brock barked so loud you flinched.

Peter frowned so hard deep ridges appeared on his forehead, and he looked between you and Brock. You could see the wheels in his mind turning, and you just hoped he would be smart enough to know that you would never endanger Bucky. You didn’t even know how you could endanger him, for god’s sake.

Peter didn’t let go of your hand even when he finally seemed to have reached a decision.

“I know Y/N, and I know she would never do anything like that. I think we don’t have enough information to make a decision here, but I believe Y/N is innocent. Aren’t you, Y/N?” Peter asked meekly, giving you a tight smile.

You chuckled sarcastically and looked at your hands. At that moment, it hit you. You just killed a man. Brock didn’t lie about that. You didn’t think about it at that moment, because you were protecting the man you loved, but the memory suddenly flooded your brain, and it felt like an out of body experience.

Seeing yourself pulling the trigger and the bullet hitting Bob’s forehead as if it was nothing, and the blood splattering everywhere, Bob falling down on the ground.

Nausea welled up in your stomach, and you almost had an issue reaching a litter box before you threw up. You emptied the contents of your stomach, but it didn’t help you, at all. You looked down at your hands, and you could see that dried up blood was covering them wholly. You knew that it must be Bucky’s because you tried stopping his bleeding, and your heart clenched in your chest.

You needed him to stay alive. Even if it meant that he woke up without memory and they would accuse you of trying to kill him, you needed to see him, at least one more time. See him alive, and kicking and your mind would be at peace. You just hoped you’d be allowed as much.

“Are you alright, Y/N? Want me to bring you anything?” Peter asked, worry laced in his voice.

“A glass of water would be nice,” you smiled at Peter who just nodded and rushed to the nearest wending machine to get you a bottle of water.

You could feel Brock’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the energy to have a stare-off with him. You were praying to all the gods that were listening to you to save Bucky. He didn’t deserve to die, and definitely not because he was protecting you.

You stood up and walked towards the closest sink to wash the blood off of your hands, and to give you at least a feeling of cleanliness.

“Y/N!” Steve barked at you from where him, Sam, Brock and Peter were standing. The tone of his voice was everything but friendly and your stomach clenched again, and you were glad you didn’t have anything else to throw up.

You quickly came to where they were, and stood next to Steve, waiting for him to question you.

“Tell us everything that happened. Don’t leave a single thing out, we won’t make a decision just yet, not until Bucky’s up, if he wakes up, of course,” Steve growled the last bit of sentence, and you gasped, closing your eyes for a brief moment to collect yourself. You didn’t want to start crying in front of all those people, none of whom were looking at you with an ounce of familiarity anymore, except for Peter.

“We were almost out of the building when suddenly somebody started firing at us, and Bucky pushed me inside the room you found us in, and when he closed the door, I thought we were both alright, but when I looked at him, his face was contorted in pain, and I could see he was bleeding. I tried to stop the bleeding and tried to keep him up until you guys arrived. I called you, Steve, right away to get us, but you were taking so long.

And then I heard steps and thought it was you, but just to be sure I took Bucky’s gun. I aimed it at the person and then saw it was Bob. I wanted to lower it, but then he started talking, telling us that he came there to finish Bucky, but not before he would make Bucky watch him having his way with me. And when he made a move, I shot him. I didn’t know how to aim, I swear, I just pulled the trigger, and somehow I hit his head. And then you guys came,” you breathed out, your whole body shaking both from the memories and from the shock finally wearing off.

Peter noticed this and swiftly shrugged off his jacket and pulled it over your shoulders before he saw the look on Steve’s face and took a step backwards.

“Do you have any proof of that? Because from where I’m standing it seems like you tried to kill boss, Bob came in and saw what you were doing so you shot him as well, and before you could have done more, we appeared,” Brock hissed, and you just looked at him with disbelief.

“And why the fuck would I do that? Huh? I love Bucky, why in the hell would I want him dead? It doesn’t make any sense, Brock. I don’t know what your problem is, but I didn’t do it. I killed Bob, yes. And I’ll forever have to live with the knowledge that I killed another human being, just like that. But Bucky was in danger, and I just tried to save him. And I’m not gonna apologise for that,” you said, standing your ground.

So what that they didn’t believe you? You knew you did the right thing, and if you were in that situation again, you wouldn’t change a thing.

“It’s just that you’ve had Bucky around your finger from pretty much the start, and although we want Bucky happy, maybe this was your plan all around. Are you working for Pierce?” Steve growled and pushed you against the nearest wall.

You hit your head with a thud, not having the time to react to the pain shooting through your body, as Steve gripped you by your throat.

But you stood motionless. You didn’t even have the energy to fight his grip, knowing it would be useless anyway. It was Sam who pulled Steve off of you.

“Are you insane, bro? Like you said, we don’t know what happened, and we won’t know until Bucky wakes up, but if she’s innocent, Bucky will rip your head off for handling her this way. And if she proves guilty, I think Bucky will think of a way to make her suffer much more than the two of us ever can,” Sam said, trying to reason with Steve, whose judgement was obviously clouded.

When Steve finally let you go, your hands shoot up to your neck, massaging the sore skin. You were thankful to Sam, but you knew he did it mostly because he was afraid of Bucky’s reaction, and not because he would like you, or something like that. But, in a way, you understood them. It was your word against Brock’s, and they didn’t really know you that much, whereas they didn’t have a reason not to trust Brock.

“Could I call somebody? I just, I just don’t want to be alone right now,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You felt like a prisoner in the most unfriendly environment, and you just needed to feel like there were people who still believed in you.

“Who? Wanna call your buddy Pierce?” Brock yelled, and the tears started falling, despite your effort of keeping them in.

“No,” you croaked out, “my best friend. I’ll call her and let it on the speaker so that you know I’m not plotting anything, I just… please,” you sniffled, and you didn’t know if they were actually sorry, or what was going on, but both Steve and Sam nodded sharply.

You took out your phone, seeing that it was 5 AM, and even though you didn’t want to wake Nat up, you didn’t see any other way.

After a few beeps, you could hear her croaky voice through the speaker.

“Nat? It’s me, I’m so sorry for waking you up, but something happened tonight, and I’m in the hospital, could you come, please?” You said, trying to sound as ok as you could, but you knew that there wasn’t any way to lie to Natasha.

Her tone changed from sleepy to business, and after you told her where you were, she told you she’d be there with a bunch of your clothes in a few minutes. 

True to her words, Nat came in about 20 minutes, with a bag full of your clothes on her shoulder. The men looked her up and down, and Sam obviously gulped when Nat walked around him, but you were too tired to ask her about it. You would have to remember to ask her once this shit was over. If it would ever be over, you thought.

“God, Y/N! You looked like shit. Sweetheart, are you hurt somewhere?” Natasha asked motherly, and you could only nod, but still, you pulled her into a tight hug. You sobbed loudly into her hair, and she stroked your head and shoulders, trying to calm you down.

When you finally let her pull away, she raised an eyebrow as if to ask where were you hurt, and you shamelessly lifted your dress to show her your hip, which was not bleeding anymore per se, but there was still some blood and pus oozing out of the wound.

Nat winced, and before she took care of you, she turned around to face the men.

“You couldn’t let the doctors stitch her up? You have a woman bleeding here, and all of you are standing around like a bunch of dickheads, looking at her as if she took your favourite toy!” Nat growled at them, and when she saw Sam starting to say anything, she just raised her hand to silence him.

“You don’t get to fucking say anything. Actually, none of you does. I don’t know what you think Y/N did or didn’t do, and honestly? I don’t give a shit. She needs medical care, and you should have been attentive enough to notice that. But that would mean you sticking your heads out of your asses, and that just wouldn’t do for you, huh? Fucking mobsters,” Nat said under her breath as she helped you up and took you to the nearest nurse to show her your injury.

“Peter, go with them, just to be sure,” Sam mumbled as he watched Nat leave with you and a nurse disappearing in some door. Peter just nodded and ran after you.

“Rumlow, take a break, will you?” Steve said through clenched teeth, signalling to Brock that he was no longer needed there. That conversion would unfold in which he wasn’t welcomed.

When he walked away, Steve finally sat down, and Sam followed suit.

“So, what do you think? I just can’t wrap my head around it, and I want Buck to wake up and tell us what really happened,” Steve mumbled, massaging his temples. He was tired as hell, but he knew he needed to stay alert. Anything could still happen.

“I don’t know, man. Both stories seem to make sense, and either way, somebody betrayed Bucky, and that’s bad, man! I don’t even know who I wish it was, to be honest. I think it would forever damage Bucky if it was Y/N, so there’s a part of me that’s kind of hoping that it was fucking Bob who is the asshole in this story. But I don’t know, I really don’t,” Sam said, just as tired as Steve.

“I know, man, I know,” Steve breathed out, and they stared at the wall in front of them in silence. Even when you, Natasha, and Peter came back, nobody talked. All of you were exhausted, but the worry wouldn’t let you sleep.

It was some 10 hours after that that a doctor approached your little friendly group. The same doctor came to tell you that Bucky was after the surgery at around 8 AM, but that he was asleep, and you would have to wait till he woke up to see him.

“Mr Barnes is awake now, and he is asking for Ms Y/L/N. If you could follow me, miss?” The doctor said, and you got up quickly, following him without a doubt. You could tell that somebody was behind you, and even the doctor noticed it, as he raised his eyebrow at the person.

“I just need to make sure he is alright, sir,” Steve said stiffly, and because the doctor was well aware who he was dealing with, he just nodded and led the two of you to Bucky’s room. It was now or never, you thought as you walked inside the room, and you immediately caught the eyes of the man you loved. You just didn’t know if his expression was happy or not. But when he spoke up, you immediately knew.

/ Next Chapter >

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our reflections 

wayhaven chronicles | nb!detective x mason | 3.1k words | hurt/comfort | cw: blood & violence | mostly under the cut!

read on ao3

--

Feet stumbling over each other, Pollux’s shoulder slams into the door and he curses loudly. Pain radiates down his arm and into his ribs, scattering across his shoulder blades and ending at the headache welling across his scalp. Breath catching, pain making his diaphragm stutter but he knows this well. Pause, close his eyes, lean against the door, and take a few deep breaths to ease the tightness.

He licks his lips, freshly wet with new blood sliding from his nostrils and he winces; he hopes it isn’t broken, goddamn it. He doesn’t fancy a trip to Doctor Turner this late and end up scolded like he’s fifteen again and got into yet another fight after school. Or worse, getting carted off to the Agency so he can get scolded like he’s just a child who can’t take care of himself. Not to mention everyone would hover and Rebecca would throw a fit over what happened and he’s not at all in the right mind to deal with her right now.

He yanks his keys out of the door lock despite the pain spiking through his hands and wrists and he dumps them on his little console table. He flexes his hands, clenching them into fists and relaxing them. His usual joints pop and crackle, but none of his fingers feel broken or dislocated. The scabs across his knuckles flex and crack, new blood seeping through along with fresh pain to batter against his senses.

He gently kicks the door shut and leans against the table, closing his eyes once more. The pain is still fresh in his shoulders and down across his ribs and he reaches under his cardigan and he feels across his torso. Pressing against the bones and there’s no sharpness, just the familiar ache of bruises. Not cracked thankfully. Still, it hurts like hell and he sucks in a sharp breath that burns his nose. He wipes away the hot fresh blood on his sleeve, looking down at the dark streak staining the fabric.

There’s blood that isn’t his own splattered across his shirt, staining under his nails, in the cracks of his callouses. Thought it would be worse, all things considered. 

Sure, he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him, but he’s been through worse and still come back swinging. There’ll be new dents in his car come the morning and maybe some blood to wash off when he clambers out of bed, but that’s for tomorrow Pollux to worry about. Today Pollux would be more than happy to sleep for the next week and a half and ignore everything else outside of his apartment. 

Maybe he will.

He wrangles himself out of his cardigan, shaking his arm from the offending sleeve and it lands on the floor in a heap that he kicks to the side. Works his shoes off too, abandoning them, shuffling past the tiny entryway and into his living room. Groping blindly through the dark for his bedroom door, he wishes he’d left a lamp on.

“Pollux?”

A voice in the dark and he turns sharply, panic seizing his chest, eyes searching through the dark. His hands clench into tight fists that break the fresh scabs, heart racing in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s just me...”

Soothing—familiarity in that deep voice, recognition in his scrambled brain. A sharp sudden light from a lamp clicking on and Pollux winces, holding up his hand to block it.

“Fucking hell,” he peers out from behind the bright light and Mason is standing there, the butt of a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Should’ve said something sooner, you asshole...” He huffs, voice hoarse and he clears his throat. There’s the taste of blood on the back of his tongue and he swallows.

“Don’t blame me. I just got down from the roof when you hobbled in.”

Mason snips and Pollux snorts despite the pain. In the dim yellow light he spots the balcony door still open, curtains fluttering in the dull breeze. Of course he used the fire escape instead of the normal people stairs up to the roof.

“Wait, you were hiding around my apartment building?” Pollux asks, rattling his brain for whomever is supposed to be on watch with him tonight and he could’ve sworn they were past this shit. At least Pollux thought since he’d been extraordinarily clear with Ava how he felt on the matter. Quite loud about it too if his memory served right.

Pleas on deaf ears he supposes.

“Better question,” Mason counters, making his way through his living room and closer to him. “You look like utter shit.”

If Pollux didn’t know better, he’d say there’s a biting edge of concern to his tone, grey eyes flickering in the dull light reflected off the wall.

“Thanks asshole. Flattery will get you everywhere.” Pollux bites back, lips curling back.

“Why?”

First instinct catches Pollux, lying before he can think not to.

“It’s nothing—“ he quickly shuts his mouth, biting his tongue.

That doesn’t work anymore—not with Mason, not with any of them. They all read him like a book, know his littlest tells for his lies and Pollux hates it--that hate sitting in his stomach, frustration in his curled fists. He’s invested what little dignity the years haven’t stripped from him in his lies and even still, unit bravo spare him no expense.

“I handled it, it’s not as bad as it looks. I’m fine...” Pollux looks away, finding a nice dark corner to stare into. Saying it’s fine is just another way to lie, but he’s past semantics.

“What happened, Pollux?” Mason presses and Pollux shrugs through the pain, crossing his arms over his chest, burying his bruised and bloodied hands in his armpits.

“There’s nothing to say! Nothing happened, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, what happened, Pollux?”

Pollux licks the backside of his teeth, frustration building like nervous energy in his legs and hands, the little voice in the back of his mind growing louder. Mason steps closer and Pollux pulls back against the wall, pulling his arms in tighter.

(Take one more step, just one more)

“Trappers, okay?” Pollux admits. “They jumped me in the parking lot of the station near my car. Three of four of them--didn’t get a good look.”

The dark corner is his friend, keeping his eyes off of Mason but he still hears the sharp intake of his breath, feels his eyes on him.

(Stop looking at me like that)

“Pollux, you--” Mason cuts himself off, growling low in the back of his throat. “You didn’t think to call us? To call me?”

“No, sorry I was more concerned about getting out of there than sticking around for a stupid phone call.” Pollux spits back, meeting Mason’s glare with one of his own.

“Were you going to call when you got back here? What were you gonna go do?”

“What did it look like I was doing, asshole? I was gonna go to my bathroom and make sure my nose isn’t fucking broken!”

Mason pinches the bridge of his nose and Pollux holds his meager ground, hands stuffed in his armpits clenching down hard.

“And after that?”

“Jesus christ, I was gonna go to sleep! Or I dunno, eat a bowl of cereal and smoke a fucking cigarette!” Pollux spits, grinding his teeth. “I don’t need to tell you all every bit of my life! I can take care of this myself! I don’t need help all the time, I’m not just some stupid human who needs his hand held and told ‘oh boohoo are you okay honey’ whenever things go wrong!”

Pollux mocks, more words bubbling up in his throat but they get clogged on his tongue, too many to say. Maybe they’re excuses, or lies and he wants to say them—wants to take the worst of them and smash them together into the worst he can think of and then shove it in Mason’s face. Make him take a step back, or maybe leave because he can never just ask. He’s asked too many times, begged people over the phone and no one ever listens--like screaming through a glass window.

Talk is cheap and hands say more than their fair share.

“....fucking hopeless.” Mason grumbles to himself and Pollux bunches his fingers tightly in his shirt.

“If you’re gonna talk then shit say it to my face, Mason.” Pollux spits his name and he knows he’s playing chicken with a speeding car—sooner or later he’s going to get hit. 

Mason turns on him, anger drawing his lips into a snarl and frustration tensing his shoulders,

(take one more step, I swear to god) 

“I said...” He starts slow, meeting his grey eyes and there’s a vicious storm in that grey, “you’re fuckin’ hopeless, Pollux.”

“Good.”

Pollux grinds out, voice low. There’s a hundred meanings in that four letter word, all of them stuffed in the five feet between them and Pollux is daring Mason to ask, eyes measuring. Like stepping out into traffic and watching for the inevitable crash in slow motion, breath stalled in aching lungs and his pounding head. 

Expectations falling flat when Mason just breathes hard, fixing him with a stare that says too much.

Speaking has a nasty habit of making things feel too real and Pollux already feels too real right now. His shirt is scratchy against his arms, sweat dried on the back of his neck and he wants to scratch, to rip and pull at his cuticles. Needs to grab his hair and yank, yank, yank—

Tackled from behind, slammed into his car.  Pinned to the door, arms yanked behind his back. Handful of his hair, slamming his head against the bonnet of the car. Once, twice—

kick back hard against the knee, only way out. Bones breaking under his foot, feeling the knee bow back and further back still.

Good.

Trapper screamed, an ear splitting scream. A punch hitting his cheek, head reeling and he hits the hood. World spinning, vomit rising in his mouth, grabbing the Trapper’s shirt. Slam his head into the hood of the car. Once, twice, three times quick with all his strength, metal buckling and crumbling, blood splattering. Trapper falls limp to the ground in a way that can’t be faked.

Blows and blocks stuttering in his head, the fighting caught between too slow and too fast, frames stuttering by.

Turn just in time to avoid the flash of something in another hand, something shining in the orange street light.

Can’t get stabbed, just need to grab the knife. Blinking, blinking, blinking and blinking again.

(grab the knife)

Overhead light swinging wildly, shadows and light making the bars of the cage dance against the walls. Tackled to the ground, foul smelling water soaking in his clothes, wetting his shaved head. Snarling, nails drawing bloodied lines across the face, fingers scrambling for the eyes. Get the eyes, the softest part. Grab and yank, dig his fingers into the supple and squishy—get the eyes, get the eyes--

(Grab the knife, grab the knife, grab the knife, grab)

“Pollux?”

He nearly jumps out of skin, quickly looking up at Mason and he blinks once, and once more.  Mason’s looking at him over his shoulder, phone is pressed to his ear. He wears worry convincingly enough.

“We need to get you back to the agency to take care of this...”

Pollux frantically shakes his head, staring down at the ground as it spins.

“I told you I’m not going. I can take care of it.” He argues, his tongue like a heavy dead fish between his lips, flopping in the sun.

He’s too raw for this right now, the living room too dark, the singular light tearing into his head like a migraine. And the memories too close. He smells the dried blood already caked to the inside of his nose, legs jittery and he needs to go. The living room is both too tight and too much space.

“It’s not asking, it’s Ava ordering.“

“No. Tell Ava to go shove her orders up her fucking ass, I’m not going whether she likes it or not.” He’s trembling, heart racing in his ears.“Whether you like it or not.” 

Pollux looks up at him and Mason’s eyes narrow. Phone still in his hand, call still going and Pollux barely hears Ava demanding to know what’s going on. 

Tough shit, she’ll have to wait.

Mason looks away first and Pollux takes the chance, ducking inside his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Mason’s voice muffled through the door and he picks his way to the bathroom. Slams that door shut too, hoping that it makes even Ava wince through the phone. 

He flips the bathroom light on, wincing as his headache spikes, the dull off white light coloring his tiles a soothing beige. There’s no shadows here, but still he yanks open the shower curtain to make sure before he digs for the first aid kit under the sink.

He doesn’t know if Mason sticks around as he gets to work, stripping off his clothes. They’re splattered and soaked with blood, the fabric stiff and smelling sharp of iron and he heaps them in the bathtub to deal with later.

The standing mirror is both a blessing and a curse, his nakedness painted clearly in the harsh light. His ribs are already turning sickly pale and tinged with purple, the first signs of the rioting of bruising come the morning. There’s other spots littered across his body, a nice purple tinge from the base of his skull to his shoulder blades.

He sinks to the bathroom rug, the tile still leeching the heat of his narrow body away. He takes in the worst of the damage painting his face, examining the curves and plains decorated with bloodied contusions and more sickly grey skin.

There’s a brief flash to countless other bathrooms, some with off green buzzing lights and dirty concrete floors smelling of gasoline and urine. Others with a kaleidoscope of colors and bass thumping so loud it shook the mirrors; all only a distant thrumming, too busy caught up feeling like he was in nothing but a warm bathtub.

He blinks and it’s gone. Sighing out of the corner of his mouth, he fishes his crumpled cigarette carton from out of his pants, shaking one out.

--

It’s a long while before he opens the bathroom door, busted lip stitched up, contusions covered with bandages and butterfly closures clinging to his cheekbone. The pain is dull, water still clinging to the glass and pain medication discarded on the tile counter.

It’s not dark with the blinds open, the moon nearly full and casting long lines that tinge the bedroom with navy blue.

Miraculously, Mason’s there.

Sitting in his laundry chair, hands clasped between his legs, grey eyes traveling up to find his eyes. Ava must’ve told him to stay, or Pollux vainly thinks he wanted to stay.

He takes careful steps through his bedroom until he’s standing in front of him, Mason’s gaze following him the full way--examining. 

There’s a storm raging in his eyes, lips pulled to a thin line and hands clasped tight. It’s not easy to pin point the lines and looks of distress in Mason’s face, but Pollux has poked enough buttons time and time again to know where his face creases.

“Mason?” Pollux murmurs, his name almost a jumble of letters and he creeps closer. Close enough that Mason tentatively reaches out--hesitating for a breath--before he relents and gently pulls him in. Arms wrapping around Pollux’s waist, face pressing against his bare stomach.

Pollux curls his fingers into Mason’s hair, running his fingers across his scalp in long steady soothing motions. He’s quiet as he clings, fingers smoothing down the vertebra of his spine, fingertips skipping over each bone. Pollux leans against him, resting his head in his hair, taking in the heady scent of freshly smoked cigarettes and warm incense. 

(What home smells like, Pollux can’t help but think.)

“I’m sorry...” Pollux mumbles and the silence carries on, Mason unsurprisingly quiet.

He’s got every right to be angry at him, to be frustrated because Pollux knows he does this every time. Like how a cowering dog backed into a corner only knows how to bite the hand that reaches out.

He only knows the push, not the pull--the biting. Tending his broken skin alone and his broken mind in garish bathroom lights or with doctors staring him down from across coffee tables littered with magazines.

He should know better by now, but it always easier said than done. Hands held out in help curl to fists or flatten to slaps far too easily. The words are the worst, spitting and angry and it’s easier to say the worst of others first. Poke at their pain so they don’t uncover his.

Pollux is just catching the shoe before it drops.

“Just...don’t. Not again sweetheart, please.” Mason speaks, pulling his face away and he stares up at Pollux. Face drawn tight and Pollux brushes a stray hair from off of Mason’s cheek, fingers gliding down to his jawline and Mason’s fingers find his, cupping his hand. Turning his palm to press a kiss there. More following, finding his wrist, looping scars reminding him of zip ties and metal chairs and he smothers those thoughts, finding Mason’s grey eyes to get lost in instead.

“I’ll try.” Pollux whispers and that’s all he has to offer, but Mason takes it with a soft nod. 

He takes all he has to offer, all he’s willing to give and never asking for more. Taking the steps along with him, waiting for him to find his words, a piecemeal affection assembled in the broken paths along the way--a puzzle with all the edges sanded off, but still trying to put it all back together.

“Are you going to stay?” Pollux asks, voice no louder than a murmur, cupping Mason’s face in both of his hands, thumb stroking the corner of his lip, the stubble he finds there.

“Yeah...I’m staying.” He whispers back. 

It all goes unsaid, arms gingerly wrapping around Pollux, picking him up as he stands. Still unsaid as they both climb into bed, Pollux’s fingers finding the hem of Mason’s shirt and he coaxes it off, lips meeting for just a moment. A taste of words unspoken in the millimeters between them, in the negative spaces as Mason wraps his arms around him, skin against skin.

Pollux’s hand finds his, spreading his fingers out in a fan, moonlight setting Mason’s freckles to glow and Pollux’s scars to narrow lines like shooting stars painted across knuckles. The birth of the universe written from palm to palm and Mason closes his fingers around his, drawing him back in. Pulling him back to earth, back to his apartment, back to his bed. Back to words unspoken and grey eyes meet, still thick with apologies and Mason closes his opened lips with a kiss.

[notquitecanon]

hello! i hope you’re doing well and staying safe!! i was wondering if you could do a imagine/fic where y/n is also in the bau and gets hurt on the job, and spencer is super worried, protective and sweet when they finally find her? thank you so much!! i adore your work and honestly can’t wait to read loads more!! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

This is way longer than I anticipated. Sorry I got a little carried away.

TW: uh, blood, guns, basically if you can’t watch criminal minds, don’t read this??

_____

Everything hurt as you started to come to, confused and out of it. Slowly, you remembered what happened, raising a shaky hand to find warm, sticky blood on your temple where you had been hit. It was hard to keep your eyes open, even the dim lighting of the basement was too much for your throbbing head. Nevertheless, you pried them open and looked around for anything you could use against your attacker- who, at this point, was undoubtedly the unsub. 

“I knew filling in for JJ while she was on maternity leave might be a little more dangerous than teaching at the FBI academy, but I didn’t expect to get hit in the head just for showing my badge-  I know I retired from the field early, but I used to get a lot farther before someone tried to hit me.”  You thought, wincing as you tried to sit up- everything from the neck down was hurting, “What did he push me down the stairs too?” 

Finally, you were able to push your self so you sat against the wall- which you tried to ignore the dark red smeared and splattered stains on- as you heard the unsub stomping around upstairs. If you strained you could barely hear him talking to himself, definitely delusional, those are the most dangerous types. Delusional or not, he knew you were FBI (and judging by the sun flitting in through the one, tiny window you’d only been out a couple hours) so it wouldn’t be long before people came looking for you. 

Peeling off the blazer you had worn that day, you took a deep breath. You just had to stay alive until they found you.

_______

Meanwhile at the local police station:

Spencer tiredly popped his neck before taking a sip of his coffee (the station hadn’t had Tea and he needed the caffeine), relishing the short mental break before he went back to the board. Morgan was with Lewis going over the latest autopsy results while Rossi interviewed a couple of parents in one of the station’s waiting areas- so the conference room they had taken over was unusually quiet. Not that the genius minded. Those meticulous eyes raked over the map where he’d originally designed the geographic profile, but they’d exhausted every possibility in the area. He glanced over his shoulder at the fresh map where he had been trying to come up with another one, but something didn’t feel right. He knew the original geographic profile was right, they just had to be missing something. 

In his peripheral, he saw Hotch slip into the room with a folder in his hand- like Reid, his mind was stuck on something too- a missing person's case. The only person in the whole town who fit their profile went missing five years ago at fifteen. They’d already interviewed the man’s parents, who just explained that he was a troubled individual and slipped away in the night. That didn’t sit well with Hotch, so he sent you back to their house to ask some follow-up questions since they hadn’t been answering their phone- he just forgot to tell Spencer. 

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment of his arrival, and Hotch gave him a nod, not even looking up. The doctor tapped a finger on the map of the suburban town they were in, sighing “I feel like we’re missing the one piece of information we need to solve this case.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes, though?” Rossi teased lightly as he sauntered in, the three agents could hear the latest victim’s mother sobbing as she left the precinct. They all grimaced but carried on. 

“Yes, but I agree. We’re definitely missing something.” Hotch agreed as Morgan and Lewis rushed into the conference room. 

“You’ll never guess what we just found.” Lewis announced as she pulled two evidance bags out of her coat pocket, tossing one to Hotch who shared with Rossi and one to Spencer. The clear bags both contained a stained scrap of paper, but the writing was clear. 

“I’m Still Here.” Reid read aloud, throwing Morgan a questioning look. 

“These were hidden in the last two victims throats, the ME is reexamining the other victims as we speak.” Morgan clarified, “We only found this because a different ME examined the lastest body.”

Hotch frowned, remember the lackluster medical examiner they first encountered. As the team threw around ideas about this new find, Spencer looked around the room realizing a voice was missing. 

“Hey, has anyone seen (Y/N)? I haven’t seen her since she left to revisit the dumpsites.” He asked, not paying attention to Morgan’s teasing. (You and Spencer had been dating for months before you got asked to temporarily join the team, and the team had only found out about it recently. Hotch agreed to let you stay, since your work with them was only temporary and JJ would be back in two weeks anyway.)  

Hotch glanced at him, furrowing his eyebrows, “After she did that, I asked her to follow up with the Greys since she was already on that side of town.”

Spencer turned his head to gaze out of the large window at the setting sun, Hotch seemed to follow his line of thought, “That was hours ago, has anyone heard from her?” 

The air in the room turned tense as everyone drew up blank, everyone in the room could see the lines of worry and stress tension rapidly appearing in the youngest team member as he left the room. Minutes later, he came back looking even worse, “Guys, her phone is going straight to ‘caller unavailable’”

Hotch pressed a button on the conference rooms phone, near immediately Spencer’s claims were confirmed with a monotonous, “I’m sorry the number you're attempting to reach is unavailable please try again at a later date.” 

Morgan was quick to do something similar, switching to speaker as the line connected this time to a bright, cheery voice as Spencer began nervously picking at his fingernails, foot-tapping as she greeted them, “Hello, crime fighters, what can I do for you!” 

“Baby girl, we need a location on (Y/N)’s cell phone.” Morgan was quick to cut to the chase, negating their usual banter. Even over the phone, Spencer could feel the hacker’s mood change only confirmed by the immediate clicking of keys followed by muttering. 

“Oh, ok, oh no, that’s never good.” She whispered as she worked, “Oh! oh...”

“What is it?” Spencer pressed immediately, almost tripping over a chair leg as if getting closer to the phone would give him answers faster. Rossi tried to comfort him with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Reid didn’t even notice it. 

“That last transmitted location was 5 hours ago.” She informed them,  “Address is on your phones.” 

Spencer did the mental math in a fraction of a second, five hours ago was around noon. You’d been missing since noon and he’d just found out? A flash of frustration went through the doctor before melting into an even greater sense of worry- a lot could happen in five hours. 

His genius brain was working so fast in a downward spiral of all the terrible possibilities that could happen that he almost didn’t hear Hotch announce, “That’s Mason Grey’s parent’s house, she was there to ask some follow-up questions.”

“The kid that went missing?” Rossi asked as the missing piece clicked in Spencer’s brain. 

“I’m still here! What if Mason Grey didn’t go missing, but his parents just hid him. He was showing early symptoms of mental problems, and we’ve seen it before.” Spencer almost shouted. Garcia was still on the line, and announced, “And, the house is in the middle of the kill zone” 

“Neither one of the Grey’s showed up to their jobs today or yesterday. That’s not a good sign is it.” 

“That kind of isolation could drive someone crazy, especially if they were already mentally ill,” Lewis added. Spencer had already made up his mind, and every minute that they weren’t on their way to you was slowly driving him crazy.

Hotch only thought about it for another minute, “Vests on, we’re leaving in five minutes.”

Spencer was in the car in two.

__________

You could barely see the sun setting through the tiny basement window, but it didn’t bode well as it was your only source of light. Your attempts to explore hadn’t been very fruitful, as once you finally managed to stand up you were made painfully aware that your knee was dislocated. Nevertheless, with a huff you resigned yourself to limp around. 

Fruitful or not, you made some discoveries. First, you found the remained peices of your destroyed phone- considering it was in four large pieces you didn’t even attempt to turn it on. Next, you discovered the tiny window was sealed shut so you couldn’t even attempt an escape. Lastly, you found a locked room in corner of the room with an all too familiar rotting smell seeping from under the door. That must be the Grey’s you decided solemnly. The door itself was old and rickety-splintering in some places, even with bad leg you figured you could probably get it open. I could probably use my shoulder and ram it down, bodies or not, there might be a window in there that isn’t sealed. 

“Get away from there!” 

A shout startled you, and instinctively you ripped your hand off the doorknob you were jiggling. You didn’t have to turn around to know he had a gun, you heard the safety click off. Holding your hands up, you were quiet. With these types of unsubs, it was best to let him call the shots. 

“T-turn around.” He demanded so you did, slowly. Greeted with the face you’d only briefly seen earlier before he’d hit you over the head with a bottle. The same face from the missing posters Hotch had shown you. This had to be Mason Grey, the missing teenager from five years ago- he’d be something like 20 years old now. He was using both hands to point a gun-your gun- at you, hands shaking as he glared at you. 

Softly speaking, you rose your eyebrows, “Are you Mason?”

He didn’t answer, using the gun to motion you to kneel down. You were already at a disadvantage, and you didn’t like the added weakness of being on the ground. 

“You’re FBI.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. 

“Yes, I am, and my team knows I’m here. If they get here and you’re pointing a gun at me, I promise you, it won’t end well for you.” You informed him, voice stern but not malicious. It was a fact, not a threat. 

“What if you’re dead when you get here?” That wasn’t a threat either, a genuine question. Somehow, that was scarier.

“Well, since your parents are behind that door and they’ll connect you to at least five victims? It still won’t end well for you.” You calmly informed him as he moved one of his hands to nibble on his dirty fingernails. His forehead was sweating, eyes darting around, and hair greasy. He was scared.

“You were never missing were you?” You asked quietly, voice soft and sympathetic. His head shook.

“Did your parents make you stay down here?” 

This time he nodded, lip wobbling as he took a sharp, deep breath, “I was different and they didn’t want people to know, so they made me stay down here. If I tried to leave, they’d lock me in there. Once they figured out I was leaving at night to go see my girlfriend, they tried to lock me up again. So I locked them in there, to see how bad it was.”

His girlfriend? Mason Grey’s real girlfriend died shortly after he went missing, maybe he saw all his victims as her? But you couldn’t worry about that, towards the end of his explanation his voice turned angry, erratic. 

“If the FBI comes here. They’ll lock me up too. You’re gonna lock me up! I DON’T WANT TO BE LOCKED UP AGAIN.” He was yelling, inching closer to you and jabbing the gun towards you. He was distracted, so he didn’t hear the sirens approaching. But you did. 

I just have to hold on a little longer. 

“Mason, I don’t want to lock you up. If you put the gun down, I can help you. I’ll tell my friends what happened to you and that you cooperated and didn’t hurt me-” You tried promising him, but you were cut off by the sound of squealing breaks in front of the house. Your eyes flicked to the tiny window, it was dusk which allowed you to see red and blue flashing lights. 

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” He bellowed, for a moment he clawed both hands into his short greasy hair. Nervously, you strained to hear stomping feet above you. Then you heard the basement door open, and at the top of the stairs, you could see those unmistakeable converse paired with Morgan shouting behind him. 

“Mason Grey, FBI.”

Spencer was here. You thought, sighing in relief, but it didn’t last long. You could see their feet, but not them so they definitely couldn’t see you- couldn’t see the gun. A moment too late, you saw Mason erratically wave the gun towards them, towards Spence. 

“NO!” You shrieked, jumping up and grabbing his arm as you tackled him. The noise and pain came at the exact moment you hit the ground with him, almost immediately rolling off of him and grasping at the warm, wet, extremely painful wound on your stomach as your eyes screwed shut. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard distantly as you tried to bring yourself back to reality, “We need an ambulance!”

You cracked your eyes open to Spencer crouched over you, eyes filled with worry as you brushed the hair off your forehead, behind him Morgan was shoving Mason up the basement stairs, probably rougher than he had to. 

Breathing heavily, one of your hands pawed at the source of pain but Spencer instead took it in his, “You’re gonna be ok, you’re going to be just fine.”

You barely nodded, trying to slow your breathing as the genius grabbed the blazer you had discarded earlier. Balling it up, he pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding. You cried out in pain at the sudden pressure reflexively squeezing his hand, Spencer winced, “I know, I know, I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” 

Everything was hazy after that, you honestly didn’t remember much, just flashes of his face, the EMT’s, him kissing your forehead begging you to stay awake, until finally you were allowed to slip off into a dreamless sleep.

_________

Spencer was sitting in the waiting room, hands still bloody as they clasped tightly. To the untrained eye, it would look like he was praying, but really he was mentally recounting everything he could have done different. I could of asked where she was earlier, I could have snuck behind him instead of letting Morgan announce us, I could of gone with her to the dumpsites so I would have been with her when Hotch asked her to go to the Grey’s home. I could of asked her not to take the job with the BAU. Derek was sitting across from him, watching him carefully and sympathetically. He was the one who had to physically hold him back from following the doctors into the surgery area, besides a whispered apology the younger agent hadn’t said anything to him since the doors closed. 

Spencer had ridden in the ambulance with you, while Derek and Hotch took an SUV behind. Rossi and Tara stuck around the Grey house to finish up the case and were still there. 

Derek watched as Spencer’s knee bounced faster than he thought was possible, the kid’s fingernails were nubs from being bitten, and Spencer had bitten his lip so much that it had started to bleed. The older agent wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how. “Kid-”

He started, but was quickly cut off by Hotch striding back into the waiting room- he had left earlier to demand information, “She’s out of surgery. The doctor said that even though it hit an artery, the bullet missed all her organs. She’s going to be fine.” 

Derek had never seen Spencer look so relieved, he practically melted back into his chair before bowing his head. Hotch continued, “They’re getting her settled into a room, but I asked them to come get you when she’s allowed, visitors.”

Spencer just nodded allowing his eyes to close as Hotch turned to Morgan, “I’ll call Lewis and Rossi if you’ll tell Garcia.”

Morgan chuckled before agreeing, but all Spencer could think about was that you were going to be ok. 

______

Two hours later, Spencer was sitting beside your bed while you dozed- he’d been informed that you would wake up soon and decided that he wouldn’t move until you did. After the team had all come and checked on you (Spencer might be in love with you, but they were all worried as well), Derek had driven Lewis to your hotel to gather your belongings. Rossi and Hotch periodically checked on him but gave him some privacy by waiting in a lounge down the hall. 

Absentmindedly thumbing through a well-loved copy of War and Peace (the Russian Translation mind you), in two hours he could have read the book four times over if was actually focussed on it, but he was still struggling through the first half of the book. Every time you so much as sniffed in your sleep, the book was discarded not to mention that he was so caught in thought he wasn’t reading anywhere near his usual 20,000 words per minute. Sighing, he moved his eyes back to the top of the page, forcing his eyes to read the lines he’d long since memorized and mentally translate them to English. 

“You look like shit, honey.”

War and Peace clattered to the floor as his head snapped up to meet your eyes.  You hadn’t moved much, but he was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Still a little fuzzy from the anesthesia, you just watched him read trying to ignore how tired and anxious he looked. 

Without thinking you trying to sit up, but both the pain and the man next to were quick to convince you to lay back again. Spencer’s touch was gentle (it always was, but more so than usual), like you’d break if he used to much force. That was going to get annoying quickly, but you’d enjoy the doting for the moment. 

“H-How long have you been awake?” He asked as he sat back down, scooting the chair so close to the bed that his long legs had his knees pressed to the underside of the bed. You smiled softly.

“Not long, I just opened my eyes and you were muttering Russian under your breath. You only read aloud like that when you're worried.” You answered, smile turning sassy as you played with his fingers- something that always calmed him down. He managed the slightest chuckle. 

“Well, when my girlfriend has a GSW, a concussion, and bruised ribs, I get a little anxious.” He nodded, watching your hand in his. 

“Don’t forget the dislocated knee,” Hotch announced from the door, getting yours and his attention. Hotch, Tara, Rossi, and Derek (who was holding Garcia up on facetime) were waiting in the hall. You nodded in stride. 

“Oh, can’t forget about that. Is that all? Nothing much to worry about then.” You halfway shrugged, but threw a glance to Spencer and squeezed his hand as if to silently promise him, I’m ok. 

He just smiled, raising your hand to his lips to press a sweet kiss to your knuckle. Your cheeks reddened, Spencer had never been one for PDA especially in front of the team, so he must have been really worried.  

“Derek Morgan, if you don’t hand me to (Y/N) right now, I’m going to scream!” Garcia demanded, bringing your attention back to the team waiting in the door. You sent Spencer another smile before receiving the phone and tuckering in for a long, classic, Garcia ‘i was so worried’ speech. 

_______

After an hour of visiting with the team, Hotch decided it was time to let you get your rest. Derek ruffled your hair and teased you on his way out, while Tara only told you to feel better soon (you weren’t offended, Tara seemed lovely, you just weren’t near as close to her yet). As they filed out, Hotch poked his head back in the room. 

“We’re needed back at Quantico, but you won’t be cleared for air travel for some time. I contacted JJ, and she’s ready to come in. Once you’re discharged from the hospital, you’ll have to drive back. Reid, if you want it, you’ve already been approved some days off if you’d like to stay here as well.” He paused to smile, “Thanks again for everything you’ve done for the BAU. It’s been a pleasure working with you, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” 

This time, Spencer’s cheeks turned red as he nodded, only blushing more when Rossi winked as he left, throwing a last remark over his shoulder, “Feel free to take the scenic route, lovebirds.”

With the rest of the team gone, it was quiet, but you didn’t mind. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a bit until Spencer spoke back up, “As much as I loved having you at the BAU, it’ll be nice to not be so worried about you all the time.”

“Yeah, there’s only room for one person getting shot at in this relationship, besides I miss my students.” You giggled, leaning back against the criminally uncomfortable pillows, “Just keep in mind that I feel that worried about you all the time.”

You hummed as he pressed another sweet kiss to your forehead before spouting off a long winded mathematical statistic about getting shot. You half-listened, but the complex math was going over your head, so instead, you just thought about having to go back to your old job. You’d miss the BAU, but you had plenty of stories to tell your students. 

Scooting over as far as you could, you patted the newly empty space beside you. Spencer looked skeptical, afraid to hurt you, so you used a tiny bit of guilt-tripping with puppy dog eyes and a quiet, “I’ve been shot and I just want to be near you.”

Reluctantly, he climbed into the tiny bed beside you after slipping out of his shoes. You giggled at the sight of his mismatched socks as he gingerly settled in beside you. He tensed as you moved to lay in the crook of his shoulder but having you so close, he couldn’t help just relax. His long arms reached over and picked his book back up, and as he started to read again he absentmindedly played with the ends of your hair. 

“So, what do you think, wanna take the scenic route with me? We just might get lost.” You smiled up at him after his arm finally, tentatively wrapped around you.  First, he glanced at your hand, which had reached up to mess with his fingers and then to meet your eyes. 

“Is that a promise?”  He asked, taking your hand in his, “Because I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Spencer, I’ll always get lost with you.” You promised, deciding against your better judgment to stretch up to kiss him. You didn’t make it all the way to his lips, so you settled on his jaw before he fussed over you to lay back down. 

“Well, now that that’s settled.” You whispered voice strained at the light pain in your abdomen after you settled back into a comfortable position beside him and closing your eyes. “Read to me?” 

“Always.”

[derivativealigner]

I rewatched the second season of South Park and took so many notes that I had to split them into two parts. Like seriously, I took so. many. notes. And pictures this time. I started rewatching just in case I’d find some cool little facts to sprinkle into my fanfic but I went way too far and now there’s a million facts under this cut (including gay stan, a domestic violence psa, and craig fucking dying)

Stan doesn’t like hospitals, he finds them gross and he gets sick 🤮. Also the hospital in South Park is called Hell’s Pass hospital. Early seasons have the name as Hells Pass but it gets fixed later

Cartman has to sing all of Come Sailing Away by Styx if he hears a part of it. After he says this, Kyle sings the first part and Cartman has to sing the rest. Kyle does it again later, which is kinda mean

Cartman’s mom tries to abort Cartman, who is an eight-year-old child and thus cannot be legally aborted. Later, after she slept with Bill Clinton to change the law and make 40th trimester abortions legal, it turns out she meant adoption

Kenny sacrifices himself to turn on the generator to the hospital and save Dr. Mephesto’s life along with others. He says “I’ll fucking do it” then does it and dies, absolute legend

Cartman gets way too into his deputy role. He goes undercover, pretends to be a prostitute, says “Respect my authoritah!” a lot and beats people up with his police stick

Kenny’s brother first appears when Cartman responds to a call about a disturbance at Kenny’s house. Apparently there are like 10 adult family members in the house at that time. Kenny’s dad has a black eye because Kenny’s mom punched him. She says he can’t hold a job

Token sits in the classroom in season 2

Cartman starts hating hippies in this season, like a lot

Chef tells the boys that the right time to do drugs is in college

Ike’s name is Ike Moisha Broflovski and he was born in 1996, making him 2 years old in 1998 when this season aired

This is probably obvious but yeah Kyle and Ike are circumcised

Kyle says family isn’t just blood, it’s who you care about, and he says “That’s why you guys are more than just friends, you’re my family. Except for Cartman.”

Craig’s finally sitting in the classroom in S02E04

None of the boys like dodgeball

Clyde gets a dodgeball to the face and he cries :( and he’s the only one who cries by the way

Pip throws a dodgeball in Kyle’s face and breaks Kyle’s nose

When Kyle’s mom tells the boys about conjoined twin myslexia (which isn’t a real term) and says anyone might’ve absorbed their dead twin in the womb, Stan and Cartman run away screaming but Kenny and Kyle stay to listen. Kenny even leans in to look at the book “Freaks A-Z!” that Mrs. Broflovski is reading from, and when she leaves, Kyle grimaces and Kenny laughs

Stan’s mom (Sharon) calls Kyle’s mom (Sheila) when Stan is all freaked out and trying to put an icepick through his brain, and Sharon tells Sheila to get run over by a truck. Sharon is pretty mean in these early episodes

Mr. Broflovski doesn’t really listen to what Mrs. Broflovski is saying, bad husband >:(

South Park’s team is always called South Park Cows no matter the sport

The school nurse, Nurse Gollum, went to Colorado State University

I just realized Butters exists. I think he appeared before S02E05 but I didn’t notice but yeah he’s there with the dodgeball team, injured

Here’s a picture to make up for my disgusting anti-Butters bias

Kenny’s dodgeball uniform number is 69 obviously. Kyle is 7, Stan is 4, Cartman is 325

Sheila smacks Gerald in the face so hard he falls off his chair, lots of violence perpetrated by women in this show. Remember, don’t do domestic violence no matter your gender, it’s not cool

I realized after this whole Butters thing that I should’ve made more notes about Pip, so I’ll make a note about his anger issues now. When people call him French, he gets angry and throws dodgeballs at them

The boys launch a jelly roll at Ms. Crabtree and make her crash the bus. They do it just for fun

The kids somehow go to China in the school bus

Cartman references Moby Dick, but he probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about

Kevin Stoley gets named in S02E05 and has his first speaking role when he says he has Chinese parents and after Cartman hears it he immediately says something racist. smh cartman, what a problematic fave

Cartman says “I love you guys 😊” but Stan and Kyle just stare at him and he goes 😐 “Eh, screw you guys 😠”

If Jimbo and Ned really fought in Vietnam, they youngest they could’ve been in 1998 is early forties, which means in the latest seasons they would be early sixties. Btw they met in Vietman

Jesus and Pals is a recurring TV show in seasons 1 and 2. Jesus just kind of lives in South Park

I just remembered that Terrance and Phillip are really old in canon, it’s so weird, like how can South Park canon still be changing, it’s been 20 years

Also the early seasons are casually racist who knew

Kenny flashes his ass on a tape the boys send to Jimbo and Ned’s TV show, which airs and at least 12 people see Kenny’s bare naked ass

Cartman really doesn’t like hippies in these early seasons. He throws a chair at Ned and yells, “Take that, hippie!” (Ned is in a catatonic state and did nothing to provoke this)

Jimbo and Ned live together I guess. Jimbo’s gonna take Ned home and show him some hardcore porn to snap him out of his catatonic state, good husband unlike Gerald Broflovski

Saddam Hussein is in hell and has a Canadian accent and is Satan’s lover in S02E06, I guess he died in Canada in the first episode this season but I wasn’t paying much attention since that’s the Terrance and Phillip episode that pissed a bunch of people off in 1998 because the audience wanted to know who Cartman’s dad is instead. It was kind of a boring episode so I understand why everyone was pissed, but it is funny that Matt and Trey did that so I’m not mad about it

Aww look at them!!! We’ve got background Style, the vaguest inkling of Crenny, and Cartman/Cake

I’d take more screenshots but it’s a pain since I’m watching legally and stupid legal websites block screenshots so I have to find youtube videos instead ughhhh piracy is the answer kids

Apparently there’s a huge waterfall and canyon somewhere close to South Park, maybe? At least in Stan’s dream

Mary Kay Bergman was an incredible voice actor. How the hell did she voice all the moms, Wendy, Shelly, principle Victoria, the mayor, Nurse Gollum, and fucking Ms. Crabtree??? Holy shit what a queen

Kenny has some feelings about death. He reimagines the episode where death boops him to death and in his version, he beats death the fuck up, then has ice cream and is happy 😊 But again, this is in Stan’s dream

S02E07 kind of establishes that nobody remembers Kenny dying because when Cartman tells a story where Kenny dies, Kyle questions how Kenny could’ve died then when he also died just a few hours ago when a giant monster took him

rip craig, he falls out the bus and into a canyon

But it’s okay because it was all Stan’s dream so everything in the episode is questionable. Everything after this is no longer a dream

Pip’s parents are dead and he has to go to summer school while everyone else is having a nice summer break

Officer Barbrady and the mayor are having sexual relations, I’m sure this is the most interesting note I’ve made so far. Idk I’m just writing everything down, this is how I enjoy things, I have no off switch

Ew summer bus stop, cursed

Kyle casually sings little tunes every once in a while, how cute

This is pretty obvious but Kenny likes dirty jokes, he laughs when Cartman innocently says he loves Chef’s salty chocolate balls (which are chocolate candy). Nobody else laughs

Cartman says “Screw you guys, I’m going home” or variations of it a lot in this season

So Stan throws up when he likes someone, right? Well, he’s watching an indie movie about two gay cowboys who start making out and he throws up, which is either a terrible homophobic joke or confirmation that Stan’s a little gay. I know which one I prefer

Kyle says Mr. Hankey is his best friend after Stan. Like I know it’s definitely canon that Stan and Kyle are best friends but it’s still nice to see confirmation, it’s very precious. Also Kyle is best friends with literal shit, so cute 😊

Kenny deaths:

S02E02 Kenny sacrifices himself by connecting a generator wire, which electrocutes him but brings power back to a hospital

S02E03 A tree falls on Kenny and crushes him

S02E04 Kenny falls in a grave and the gravestone falls on him

S02E05 The Chinese dodgeball team throws a ball at Kenny and he gets splattered against a wall

S02E06 Two guys pull on Kenny and tear him in half, as in one has the head and one has the legs

S02E07 A big scary monster plucks Kenny out of the school bus and carries him away. Also in Cartman’s fake memory of Fonzi jumping over cars, the motorcycle hits Kenny and crushes him against a brick wall. Kenny gets smashed against walls a lot, doesn’t he?

S02E08 Flashback: Baby Kenny has a firecracker and it explodes, sprinkling little baby Kenny parts everywhere. Later in the episode, current day Kenny dies when a giant firework snake bumps him off a stage and under a fence, which then crushes him.

S02E09 Kenny is playing with a yoyo outside a movie theatre when a bunch of people come outside and trample him to death. They say “Oh my God, I found a penny!” and “You bastard!”

I’ll post part 2 of season 2 in a couple days. I’m having way more fun writing these stupid notes than I thought I would (also gnomes is coming up soon and i am fucking ready for tweek)

[avengingnomad]

Day 25- Bonfire

Darkness had fallen on the city. Natasha climbed the stairs to her quarters. On her way up, she passed Steve’s floor. She glanced in his room as she went. He was sitting on his bed, back arched, head in his hands.

He looked broken. Defeated. She pressed her back against the wall to hide, wrestling with herself if she should let him be, or go in. She waited a minute, chancing another glance at him. When she looked back, he was looking forward now, his eyes unblinking. He looked like a ghost. Natasha had never seen Steve look so, to put it plainly, sad.

She had never seen him like this. He was always in Captain America mode, serious, mission-ready. When he wasn’t in uniform, he had a calmness about him. His features were usually relaxed, content. But this...this was something she had never encountered. Her indecisiveness continued. Should she go talk to him, or let him be? She wasn’t sure what he would do if she went into the room. He hadn’t moved an inch. She had to do something.

Tentatively, she knocked twice against the doorframe, pushing the door slightly more open. He looked up at her with a hint of surprise, and then his Captain America mask came on. He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, Natasha. What can I do for you?” He gestured her to sit, laying his hand out toward a desk chair. Instead, Natasha sat next to him on the bed.

Natasha wasn’t sure where to begin. So she just did, and asked, “How are you?” Natasha tried to keep her face neutral.

As she expected, Steve put on a facade. A smile plastered on his face. “I’m fine. How are you?”

Natasha shook her head. “You’re lying, Steve.” Steve stared blankly at her, and then accepted defeat.

“Yeah. I’m lying. I’m sorry.” Steve’s eyes fell to his feet.

A beat of silence passed between them. “Steve, look at me.” He looked up at her through his eyelashes, a look of guilt plain on his face.

“Steve, please. What is it?” She reached her hand out and covered his hand with hers. He started to move his other hand toward hers, but stopped himself. He started to move it back towards himself, but Natasha latched onto them with both of her hands. His hands balled up into fists. Natasha massaged them open, laying one of her hands in his, palm to palm. She laced her fingers through his slowly, as if asking for permission. Steve didn’t protest, allowing her fingers to curl around. He squeezed her hand lightly. Natasha continued the small gesture of comfort until Steve spoke again.

“I just feel,” he started quietly. “I feel weighed down. Like—like at any moment, I could collapse from the weight of everything.” He spoke to the floor, hurt and anger flickering back and forth on his face. Natasha didn’t say anything, waiting him to continue. He looked at her, a small tremble in his lip. “The-the guilt,” he practically spit the word out, “and the feeling of not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. I’m not a soldier anymore, I’m not a spy, I’m not—” he gulped, “I don’t feel like a person anymore. I feel like I have to be Captain America all the time. I’m not allowed to be me, because I have to be him.” He gestured to the red, white, and blue shield laying by the door. He stood up abruptly and started pacing. “I’m not allowed to be angry or upset, or anything but stoic, battle-ready. Captain America is strong, and always up to defend those who need defending. He doesn’t take vacations. But—” he stopped.

“You are allowed to have feelings, Steve.” Natasha stood up from the bed, facing him. “You’re a man who has fought for the lives of others. You’ve saved more people than you probably know. No one is going to think less of you if you take a day for yourself.”

“But what if I can’t?” Steve swallowed hard. “What happens if I’m not there? I can’t go and tell the team, ‘Sorry, can’t go today. Need some time to wallow in my self-pity and remember all of the people I've lost. Good luck, though.” He mock-saluted, exasperated.

Natasha’s jaw fell open. She wracked her brain for an idea, any idea. Her eyes fell on a candle, the flame whipped and flickered. The smoke swirled up toward the ceiling. She got it. She walked to Steve’s shelves where he had his books. She grabbed a spiral notebook and a pen from a jar. She rummaged around until she had found what she was looking for: a lighter. She handed them to Steve and said, “Come with me.” Steve opened his mouth as if to ask a question, and then thought better of it and accepted the items. Natasha walked out the door. Steve fell in step behind her, not saying a word. They reached the garage, Natasha grabbed a stack of logs and tossed them in her car. She went back and grabbed a stack of old newspapers. Steve got in the passenger seat silently and buckled his seatbelt. And they were off...

Neither said a word. Natasha just drove, and drove, until finally stopping at a darkened beach. She killed the engine, and stepped out of the car. Steve mimicked her movements. Steve filled his arms up with the supplies, and followed Natasha onto the beach. She stopped in front of a cemented circle full of ashes. She dropped the supplies and started placing pieces of wood in an orderly fashion. Steve joined her. Once the wood was placed, Natasha stuffed newspapers in the center. Steve added some dried leaves from the ground and stuck them in with the newspapers. Natasha offered Steve the lighter. He took it and brought the flame over to the kindling. The papers caught fire. Natasha stoked the flames, and a few minutes later, the flame was a few feet tall.

Natasha sat by the fire, and handed Steve something. It was the notebook. On it, she lay a pen for him to take. He did. “What am I doing with this?” Steve asked her.

“You’re gonna write them down.” Natasha said simply.

“Write what?”

“Your doubts, your fears, any feelings you can’t say out loud. Get them out from inside you.”

“And throw them in the fire?” Steve asked.

Natasha shrugged. “It’s up to you what you do with them.” Natasha reached for the notebook and ripped out a piece of paper. She sat a few feet away from Steve and started writing.

Steve stared at the blank paper. His pen hovered above, until ultimately making contact with the paper below, and he started writing, and writing, and writing. The pen flew across the paper. Drops of clear fell onto the page, smudging the ink. He wiped his face furiously, clearing his vision the best he could. His guilt flooded the pages. Guilt over Bucky, the Commandos, his fellow Avengers, himself. It all came out on the page. His feelings of weakness, rage, and sadness spilled out all over. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote, until—

SNAP.

The ink splattered onto the page and onto his hands. He looked down at his hands, and they were shaking. He blinked away more tears. Natasha came over and kneeled next to him. She took his hands in hers. She stopped them from shaking. Steve felt a coolness weave through him, starting at his hands, and reaching his shoulders, his back, his legs. He fell forward onto his knees, melting into the sand. He let out a sob, and collapsed against Natasha. She held him in her arms, stroking his hair back. She didn’t say anything, just let him get it out.

Once his breathing returned to normal, he sat up and turned towards her. “I’m—” she put a finger to his mouth.

“Don’t.” Natasha shook her head. “Don’t you apologize, Steven Rogers. Do you hear me?” Her voice was quiet but stern. “Don’t apologize to me for not being okay. You’re allowed to not be okay.” Steve nodded. His eyes stayed on her as she reached beside her and grabbed her piece of paper, and ripped it up. She balled up the pieces and threw them into the flame. Steve copied her. He ripped a corner off and tossed it to the orange-ish glow. His eyes followed it as it crumpled and burned. As he watched it, he felt a small weight lift off of his back. He did it again. He felt the weights being lifted, one by one. Ashes piled up in the flame with every burden he set aflame. He stood up, tossing one paper ball after another, until the last piece of paper was burned.

When he ran out, he was standing taller, he lifted his chin to the sky, and he breathed in the cool night air. The tightness in his chest was lessened, his feet less heavy. Natasha had joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Her hand grazed his. He touched a finger to the back of her hand. She slid her hand next to his, and they intertwined their fingers. They stood watching the flames for a few minutes until Steve turned to Natasha and enveloped her with his arms. He lay his forehead on top of her shoulder and brought her body closer to his until they were chest-to-chest. Natasha snaked her arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him closer.

“Thank you, Natasha.” Steve whispered into her neck. Natasha pulled back slightly, placing her hand on his cheek.

“I’m here for you, Steve. Always. I promise”, Natasha vowed.

Steve grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his lips. “And I’m here for you.”